the hyde bar, knightsbridge - review

‘Where should I go to eat game in London?’ is a question I’ve been asked more than once, the answers to which can be determined quite simply. 

Any good, seasonal restaurant with a kitchen that knows what it’s doing will likely spend most of the year looking very forward to 12th August, the start of the shooting season. Expect the menus at these sorts of places to be trussed up with some level of pheasant, partridge, wild duck et al. over autumn and winter, and for them to do a decent job with them. 

For example, I’ve had very good pigeon at Petrus, particularly exceptional grouse liver with sweetcorn and hazelnuts at Lyle’s, and a good amount of well-cooked venison in a lot of other places. 

Like looking for your favourite pair of socks and finding them in the microwave, another place to find decent game in town is one you would never think to look - a whisky bar in a Knightsbridge hotel. 

Admittedly, The Park Tower Hotel is as unsightly as you would expect a giant cement-pineapple monstrosity to be, paling in comparison to the opulent and beautiful Mandarin Oriental on the opposite side of the road. 

It looks like a towering 1960’s communist government office block, or a massive battleship-grey hand grenade. Either way, it’s far from attractive from the outside (a lot nicer in, let me assure you), which undoubtedly makes it difficult for people to consider there could be anything worth eating within its walls.

But if you find out a little about the executive head chef commandeering the kitchen at The Hyde Bar (and also at acclaimed seafood restaurant One-O-One - both of which are in this hotel), it becomes a little more believable. 

The family of Brittany-born Pascal Proyart have been in the restaurant business for three generations. He himself spent a decade working in hotels and restaurants across Europe after training at "Les Sorbets" Hotel School in Noirmoutier, and he gained two Michelin stars at the Sea Grill in Brussels, and another two at Le Divellec in Paris.

He counts the likes of chef Eric Chavot (from one-star Brasserie Chavot in Mayfair and two-star The Capital Restaurant in Knightsbridge) amongst his good friends, whom he often fishes with. Chavot taught Proyart a lot about food from the South West and Proyart in turn taught Eric a lot about fish. 

He is also a chef’s chef, esteemed by his peers. Aussignac (from one-star Club Gascon) believes he “deserves fame and recognition” and even Alan Yau is a fan, describing Proyart as “amazing.”

With the kitchen credentials out of the way, let’s look at The Hyde Bar as a venue itself. 

It is unmistakably a bar, there’s no doubt about that. Rather than a restaurant with a lot of spirits, for example. It’s a bar that just happens to have a decent kitchen and a load of game waiting in the wings. 

Whilst I’d say it’s one tailored towards men seeking the feel of a private members club - with its wood panelling, 100 international whiskies, one of the finest cigar lists in London (so we’re told) and an outdoor cigar terrace - there are still good wines and cocktails available for those who prefer their drinks a little softer. 

As you’d expect from a bar, it doesn’t start to get lively until after 9.30pm, when a jazz singer will begin to croon at a grand piano in the corner. As you’d also expect from a bar, the people in it were mostly drinking, with snacks or small plates as food accompaniment, rather than full on game dinners which, I suspect, they had little idea was even available.

But game there was, and out of the nine dishes available that evening, six we did try. 

To partner the seasonal menu and make the most of what this place is particularly good at, three Dalmore whiskies have been selected by Bar Manager Victor Durbaca. The idea is for their rich flavours, hints of autumnal fruits, and aromatic winter spices to compliment the hearty meat-laden dishes. The chosen trio: The Dalmore 12 year old, The Dalmore Cigar Malt Reserve and the King Alexander III.

There was a chunky and rustic wedge of game paté with pickled mushrooms, a fruity blueberry compote and a slice of very smoky sourdough that felt fried but wasn’t at all greasy (£14). A plate of pheasant paillard with a flaking crispy confit leg came with a sprightly Caesar salad, bacon, croutons and sharp hits of cranberry (£19). 

There was the breast from a red-legged partridge, with porky bits, an autumnal salad with tart slithers of apple and grape halves, and a Muscat jus - very good (£17). Roasted duck breast was fantastically dense and full of iron, making best friends with the chewy edges of caramelised parsnips, and a green peppercorn and lime sauce (£20). 

Then there was a hearty and cheesy parmentier - much like a Shepherd’s pie - with venison mince and loaded with Gruyere (£19). And whilst the venison meatballs cooked in red wine and a tomato sauce were a little sweet for me, the hand cut chips they came with were textbook - crisp shells, fluffy middles (£21).

Robust red meats with a whisky flight set in a bar with a cigar terrace must be the blueprint for an ideal evening for many a father, mine included. My dad declared in rapturous voice to Victor, that before that evening, he had only ever enjoyed whisky as an aperitif prior to food. Thanks to this meal, however, he was now wiser to the compliments carefully selected whiskies can give to a meal, much in the same way as wine pairings. And I second that.

Good, seasonal game, from an esteemed and well-decorated chef passionate about hunting, in the whisky bar of a Knightsbridge hotel that looks like a concrete version of those trigger-point foam rollers you find in the gym. 

London, you are full of surprises.

Liked lots: both Victor and his replacement at the end of his shift, Santo, provided exceptional service

Liked less: One of the dishes arrived quite cold. After informing Santo, the remaining were piping hotel and delivered with much apology. Minor gripes like this are inconsequential when taken on board and corrected with the right attitude, as here. It's a shame the outside of the building can't get a face transplant though.

Good for: Being an anti-vegetarian; a good range of game to choose from; taking someone who appreciates whisky; staying for a few drinks after.

3.5/5

Find the menu on Zomato.

Afiyet olsun.

Note: I was invited as a guest to this restaurant.

duck & waffle, liverpool street - review

Perhaps the air is a little thinner 40 floors above London. Perhaps it’s the threat of vertigo when peering over the precipice. It could even be the vitalising qualities of a room flooded with natural light from the wrap around floor-to-ceiling windows. Whatever the reasons, dining at Duck & Waffle made me feel a bit giddy, in a good way.

There are a couple of uncommon attributes occasionally found within the London dining scene that come together here: it is the highest restaurant in the UK (with the spectacular views to go with that accolade) and it welcomes and serves people at any hour of every day. Combine these two crowd-pleasers with very agreeable things coming from the kitchen and striking interiors, and you’ve got something that feels quite special.

Whilst there are a handful of menus on the website reminding us of the times at which most eat during a day, the vast array of offerings these imply is mostly an illusion - bar a couple of exceptions and the compulsory presence of eggs at breakfast and brunch, they are almost identical.

Dishes at 11am on a Sunday contain a few expected dependables - English breakfasts, pastrami on sourdough, fried eggs and mushrooms. For the adventurous, a good proportion are more reflective of the kitchen's creativity with an ‘I want to return for that’ intrigue almost certainly securing a subsequent visit - spicy ox cheek doughnuts with apricot jam, foie gras crème brûlée with butter roasted Scottish lobster, raw yellowfin tuna with chilli watermelon.

Firmly at home in the latter are the BBQ spiced crispy pigs ears - Jay Rayner describes them as tasting like Frazzles and he is spot on. Thin strips, most deep fried to a crunch (some with a less preferable chew) and covered in sweet paprika, I think. Brown paper bagged with the faux-wax duck-on-a-waffle seal spotted around the venue and spots of grease permeating the paper, they were very good.

The dish of smoked mozzarella bears an adjective I was unable to identify, but it was soft and milky and worked wonders with the bite and bitterness from seeds and nuts, all sliced through with some Amalfi citrus.

The namesake dish (unavoidable on a maiden visit) is, I suspect, a novel combination on these shores. But on a recent trip to New York I discovered sweet waffles with savoury meat is typical of southern soul food as seen at Amy Ruth’s in Harlem (where I had the type of fried chicken for which defibrillators were specifically made). 

A suitably spruced up version of that, the Duck & Waffle offering is duck egg, crispy confit leg, waffle, and a glorious mustard maple syrup to bring it together. Described as ‘for the table’, it’s not the easiest to share. And it should come with a whole waffle, not half (it’s only batter after all). Still, the meat was great and I would hope so for £17. Ensue the obligatory bone gnawing following any cooked meat still attached to the bone.

That waffle-half was a tease, the desire for more manifesting in dessert. Belgian waffles with caramelised banana (the surface of which cracked like a crème brûlée); fabulous homemade Nutella dark and viscous and heavy with hazelnut; ice cream; and some crunchy peanut stuff - it was a corker. But again, half a waffle. The torment.

Tables were not all occupied during our visit despite being highly sought after for weekend brunches - I suspect reservations allow two hours but some take less time for their first meal of the day. The atmosphere was light and relaxed with a lot of lively chat. It’s worth noting not all tables are next to the windows and so for many, the unrivalled views over the expanse of the city are obstructed. Had this been the case for my visit I would have been disappointed, as I’m sure others must get. But we were next to glass and the experience was elevated for it.

If the food at Duck & Waffle was served without a view of the horizon, I suspect it would be a little tougher competing with the unending list of both existing and new quality eateries in town, many at more wallet-friendly prices. But with the unique selling points it does have, the dining experience as a whole has successfully differentiated itself from the rest of the market and I think it deserves all the applause for it.

I really liked the place and I’ll return. The romance of an intoxicated just-before-dawn visit to watch the sun rise over our great city with an oyster in hand is what I intend to aim for. Magical, I have little doubt.

Liked lots: design, location, the views, open kitchen, 24/7, creative dishes, those crispy pigs ears..
Liked less: a little pricey but you are of course paying for the privilege of eating from such great heights; not all tables have unobstructed views; waffle dishes should come with a whole waffle and not half
Good for: taking London visitors, impressing, a meal with a view, romantic dates, eating at any time of the day 

My rating: 3.5

casse-croûte, bermondsey - review

If it was possible to pluck a fictional eaterie out of the Parisian back streets of the film Amelie and plant it on Bermondsey Street in London, it would look exactly like Casse-Croûte. This small bistro with around 20 seats and a few spaces to prop up the digestif laden bar is about as French as Gérard Depardieu sporting a beret and belting out the full run of La Marseillaise. But more bijou (thankfully).

It has everything to match the French bistro of your mind, the sort you would hope to stumble into on the left bank after a walk from Montparnasse late one evening to continue a conversation about the works of Yann Tiersen over pastis and cassoulet.. Complete with red gingham tablecloths, café curtains, a black and white checked floor, heavily accented staff and French paraphernalia adorning the walls, it is the perfect place to entertain an intimate evening of animated conversation, saucisson and some very good vin rouge.

The restaurant opened in July this year, the brainchild of Hervé Durochat (co-partner of José across the road) and set up by Durochat and Alexandre Bonnefoy (ex-assistant head sommelier at Arts Club). The brief and daily changing menu is scrawled in French on a chalkboard at the back of the room - three options for each of the three courses with a welcome translation from the waiters should you need it.

A glance at these photographed and shared on the Casse-Croûte twitter account each morning reveals a kitchen cooking up staples such as black pudding, tartares, confit de canard, bouillabaisse, veal stew, coq au vin and regular entries from lesser used cuts of meat such as beef tongue, brains, veal kidneys and on the evening of our visit, pig trotter meat (curiously shaped into cuboids and surrounded by a delicate pastry).

Sampling a forkful, it was heavy with the same gelatinous collagen that forms when boiling chicken feet (so I was informed by my companion - Taiwanese - obviously). Not to my palate, but she lapped it up. ‘Great for the skin!’. If you say so. My herby chestnut soup was far more appetising; earthy, comforting and poured over a pile of coriander, dill and parsley at the table.

The rabbit was good, disintegrating into a boiled egg yolk like paste on the tongue (an acquired texture I suspect), the meat beefed up with creamy dauphinoise, garlic mushrooms, and the whole plate well seasoned with salt crystals. The girls had a duck pie topped with potato concealing rich, dark, slow-cooked meat within, and I had a side of food envy. We three each opted for a dainty portion of tarte au citron topped with soft meringue for dessert. Perfectly pleasing, but since the juice from lemons may as well run through my veins (the Turkish side speaking), more citrus would have pleased me further.
When, at the end of an evening, what I ordered matches what I wish I had ordered, the venture can be deemed a success. On this occasion, the fromage and charcuterie managed to escape my clutches despite the busy saucisson slicer in full view; there was every intention to order it, but we were defeated. In addition, the three of us were cramped around what should have been a table for just two, next to the toilet door which at times had clientèle outside waiting to use. My friend had her chair repeatedly kicked by a very apologetic but albeit completely mal-coordinated waiter due to her being sat where there should not have been a seat. These perils in exchange for the intimacy created by the snug space - I would specifically request a different table on my return.
And return I am certain I will do. With such a frequently changing menu there’s a lot that needs working through. Not to mention the draw of a gloriously stinking French cheese platter. Liked lots: atmosphere, French-ness, daily changing menu, neighbourhood restaurant Liked less: our specific table that was too cramped Good for: romantically lit date, small groups, an authentic taste of France without the Eurostar

My rating: 3.5/5

Afiyet olsun.

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