quattro passi, mayfair - review

Should you, dear reader, happen to be a Russian oligarch, Middle Eastern oil baron or a member of an acutely irritating, internationally worshiped teenage boy band, then allow me to assist with your New Year’s Eve plans.

Quattro Passi on Dover Street in Mayfair launched in September this year. At the helm, two Michelin-starred executive chef Antonio Mellino, heralding from the original restaurant on the Amalfi Coast which boasts the glittering accolade. 

On the menu, Amalfi delicacies, from the region of Campania in Southern Italy, with ingredients flown in three times a week. And in the L-shaped dining room, hand-carved leather wall panels, French silk wallpaper, and diners who aren’t shy of a few bob.

They are offering a New Year’s Eve menu of seven courses with a glass of champagne on arrival for £222 (before service, I presume). There is the promise of a DJ below deck in the private lounge area, with the chance to dance the night away as you bid farewell to 2014 and what could have been the deposit on a new car, should you succumb to its bar loaded with fine cognacs, brandies and whiskies.

Unashamedly, this restaurant is tailored to the well-lined pockets of the affluent and uninhibited business accounts. Outside the New Year’s Eve offering and on a normal day, antipasta dishes are between £18 - £40, intermediate courses £16 - £42, mains around £28 - £50 and desserts £18 - £22. You won’t find a bottle of wine for less than £50, and a lot of them are over £100. 

As the old adage goes, “something is only worth what someone is willing to pay for it”, and it seems there are quite a lot of people willing to pay these prices.

It’s also a place for celebrities. It’s polished and dimly lit, and has a chandelier made from a thousand silk petals (celebs - they love that sort of thing). In the short time it’s been open, clients have included Lindsay Lohan having lunch, Valentino hosting his book launch dinner there with Kylie, Hugh Grant and Anne Hathaway, not to mention a host of royalty from far off lands.

I am that person that gets excited when the slip of paper that comes out of the Sainsbury’s till tells me I’ve got £0.72 off my next shop. Therefore, I can safely assume I don’t fall into Quattro Passi’s target market. But I was invited to a trial run of this New Year’s dinner, and I will write about the menu objectively, with my money-is-no-object hat on, my favourite of the imaginary hats.

Marinated carpaccio of Sicilian red prawns in a blueberry sauce

Probably best I couldn’t detect the blueberry in this. Otherwise, very well seasoned raw prawn, somehow fashioned into a square sheet on the plate, with a couple of quenelles of what I think were soured cream. Perhaps a little too prawn-y for some (as my companions mentioned), but it was good for me.

Potato veloute, poached quails egg, white truffle from Alba

A shallow bowl of an interestingly textured velouté, a little gelatinous, but with good flavour and a generous shaving of punchy funghi.

Signature risotto with Sorrento lemon zest

I very much liked the look of this - a piatto bianco - white risotto on a white plate, with strands of zest within the mass that would have been easier to spot had the lighting been brighter. It looked like it had great texture, the plate given a good shake to spread the rice. And the grains were beautifully cooked - fantastic bite. 

But the flavours did not work for me. It seemed too sweet, more like a rice pudding, with medicinal tasting lemon. It was as if it had been grated from a waxed fruit, which I’m pretty certain was not the case.

Interestingly, it was the favourite dish of some of my fellow diners. Which just goes to show how subjective food and eating it is.

Oven-baked daily catch fish fillet with potatoes mille feuille

The catch that day being sea bream, and a very nice plate it was. A well seasoned, well cooked bit of fish - although it could have had a crispier skin - with good potatoes and crisp pak choi nicely dressed with lemon. Nothing too spectacular, just solid.

Fassone beef Fillet with Barbaresco wine Jus de Viande with broccoli flan and porcini mushrooms

The meat here was spot on - succulent and pink. The flan was an interesting take on the vegetable - never before have I had my broccoli wobble. Porcini mushrooms were a good call, the jus tying it all together nicely.

Tagliolini pasta with artichoke hearts and lobster

This pasta shape was a new one to me. It’s a variety of tagliatelle - the classic noodle from the Emilia-Romagna region of Italy - and is long, paper-thin, and cylindrical in shape.

This was a very good dish, wonderfully savoury, with delicate slithers of artichoke hearts and the occasional presence of crustacean. My only gripe being there wasn’t more of it.

Soft sponge roll with chantilly, raspberry coulis and pistachios crumble

A sponge roll, how retro. Like something from the birthday parties of my childhood, it evoked the associated memories. Which are all good. Sharp coulis filled the roll, as well as there being a blobbed crescent of it, along with a small quenelle of tart sorbet. A tangy plate to end on.

Accessories

Bread was very good and made on site, stacked on a small set of portable shelves, a range of rolls, flatbreads and grissini. A little olive oil for glugging would have been good with it. Expect a wooden box of assorted petit fours to wrap up.

We were very generously treated to a wine flight to accompany the meal, each tasting swirled in burgundy glasses big enough to house a goldfish or two (even for the non-burgundy wines).

With alcohol, service and a drink or two at the bar, expect to pay around £350 pp for this New Year’s evening. But the burning question is of course, is it worth it? 

For me - who falls squarely into the ‘mere mortal’ category - no meal is worth £350, whether New Year’s Eve in Mayfair or not. But for many, these sorts of figures are lost down the back of Karelian birch, gilded brass, Kremlin-inspired sofas all the time, without being missed. 

And for those people, this would likely be a very pleasant evening indeed.

Liked lots: service was wonderful, particularly from the exuberant restaurant manager (I forget his name, sorry)

Liked less: the dining table was too high for wee me, sat against the wall on the banquettes. So much so that for the first time in my dining life, I had to sit on a cushion to eat. I'm not even that short (5'3.5 - that half makes all the difference)

Good for: laughing in the face of financial restraint

My rating: 3.5/5

Find the menu on Zomato.

Afiyet olsun.

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

picture restaurant, fitzrovia - review

I am not a fan of Oxford Street. I’m not sure anyone who lives in London is really a fan of Oxford Street. It’s a strip of commonplace retailers and awful eateries. It’s full of slack-jawed teenagers, disorientated tourists, and families of four, five, six who feel the need to walk side by side, sweeping the breadth of the pavement with their impenetrable linear formation. How do you propose I get past you? Oh ok, I’ll just step into oncoming traffic. 

Oxford Street harbours the highest readings of pedestrian rage in London (according to the Leyla Kazim School of Science), and along with the evil sibling that is Leicester Square, it is a place for tourists, out-of-towners and where patience goes to die.

So praise be and let us raise our hands in joyous celebration, for the really good eating establishments dotted around this arterial route of misery, that provide respite and shelter from the aimlessly wandering hordes, along with some pretty great eating to go with it. 

Next time you find yourself in Oxford Circus with a grumbling stomach and a waning will to live, face north, walk 5 minutes until you get to Picture Restaurant on Great Portland Street, and feel the stresses and strains of West End shopping slide off your shoulders as you’re greeted by some of the most spot-on service I’ve received in some time, from co-owner and chief of front of house, Tom Slegg.

There are a number of good things going for this place. I’ve already mentioned the handy location and Tom. Then there’s the bargain deal of £35 for a six course tasting menu, with the opportunity to BYO on Monday’s (I’m making my reservation for this as we speak). And if you have a vegetarian in your group that always seems to miss out when the table goes for tasting (there’s always one), fear not. They also have a vegetarian tasting menu, the type even a meat-eater would be happy with.

There’s also an a la carte of plates small enough to permit you ordering four without sounding like a pig (and in fact, it’s what they recommend: from vegetable, fish, meat and desserts), but large enough for one or two to more than suffice for a light lunch should that be the requirement. 

They’re not sharing plates - unless you’re that way inclined - and they don’t come out in whichever freewheeling order the kitchen damn well fancies, but the logical order in which they appear on the menu. These range from £7 to £9 and desserts hover around £4 / £5.

The other good thing about Picture, is what’s going on in the kitchen. Because the food coming from it is more than pleasing.

Grilled and crunchy tenderstem broccoli with cooling goat’s curd, chopped plum tomatoes and the briney piquancy of capers was expertly seasoned (£7). White beans cooked in an almond porridge, with wedges of soft, sweet and slightly tart greengage, slithers of radish, and dollops of herbaceous parsley made for a great combination (£7).

Then there was cod with girolle mushrooms, slightly charred leeks, the firm and sweet crunch from sweetcorn, dressed with a cobnut crust (£9). Sea bream came pan-fried, best friends with firm puy lentils, little cubes of fennel and white turnip, and lifted by dill (£9).

You know a kitchen knows a thing or two when it can present wild boar sausage in a light and summery format. Here, with toasted bulgar wheat, beetroot, endive, and with a lick of very complimentary sweet plum chutney in every forkful (£8). 

And then there was the lamb, good grief. Cooked for hours - who knows how many. An exquisite texture, breaking away in flakes from little more than a hard stare. With merguez sausage, white coco beans and a stuffed tomato. One of those dishes the heart gets a little heavy over when all that remains is the empty plate (£9).

And to dessert. We thought we couldn’t handle one each after three previous plates. But quelle surprise, we managed. A chocolate mousse with blackberries and a scoop of splendid peanut butter ice cream and brittle (£4). And a vanilla panna cotta with an almost ethereal silken texture, with strawberries and gingerbread shards (£4). Neither heavy nor too sweet, both wonderful. 

I like Picture, a lot. It has a whiff of The Dairy about it, with it’s light and bright dishes, seasonality, presentation and execution. And my fan-girl crush on that place is no secret. 

With price points like this, consistent and high dish-quality thanks to chefs Alan Christie and Colin Kelly, a central location and laudable service, there is little, if nothing, to argue with.

Liked lots: service, price points; BYO on Monday’s; all wines available by the glass, carafe or bottle; bread is not made on sight but bought in from Boulangerie de Paris, which is very good
Liked less: if you’re not a fan of perching on bar seating, request a table at the back. Although we were at the bar and it was comfortable
Good for: taking vegetarians, taking your own wine, taking pleasure in a very good meal indeed

My rating: 4/5

Find the menu on Zomato.

Afiyet olsun.

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

belmond le manoir aux quat'saisons, oxford - review

There are some restaurants that need little introduction. In the UK, in my mind, these are The Fat Duck and Le Manoir. Part of the reason for these two is because I’ve had a glimpse into both of these kitchens through TV shows; a Masterchef episode where contestants got to cook in Bray, and Raymond Blanc’s: How to Cook Well respectively, the latter of which I tuned into religiously. There’s nothing quite like seeing a restaurant’s behind-the-scenes engine room at work to make you want to eat there.

Since long before then, Le Manoir has been high on my restaurant list. I bumped into Blanc himself at London Cocktail Club a while back (he mentored the two barmen who launched it), and experienced first hand his energy and zeal as we chatted about food and cooking over a couple of pisco sours. Granted, the French accent got thicker and more indecipherable as the drinks flowed, but I more than got the jist of what was being said.

There are two other reasons Le Manoir always stood out for me. One is it’s highly commendable longevity; Les Quat’Saisons opened in 1977 and has maintained two Michelin stars for a staggering 29 years - only a handful of other restaurants can boast a similar achievement. The second, which more than appeals to me as a big advocate of growing-your-own, are the vast kitchen gardens. Seventy traditional and exotic herbs call it home, there's a two-acre plot producing over 90 types of vegetables, an orchard with pears, apples and quinces, even whole greenhouses dedicated to micro herbs. It’s top-shelf allotment pornography of the highest caliber. 

Le Manoir is as grand and stately as you expect it to be. A handsome and stylish manor that despite its size, manages to feel comfortable and familiar. What’s particularly pleasing about the whole experience - the building, food, service and atmosphere - is that it’s not at all stuffy. Despite its formidable reputation, and the level of dining you experience (with the prices to match), the haughty air you might expect with that is not present at all, which is great. 

Everyone is relaxed and at ease, with the babble of convivial chatter and laughter coming from all the tables. You’ll even find (well behaved) children amongst the guests, who are welcomed with their own menu rather than shunned. Diners are well turned out but not to the point of jackets and pearls. The room we were seated in - I believe a newer extension in the expansion a while back - was like a very smartly furnished conservatory with walls and ceilings of glass letting in lots of light and creating space. 

Service is impeccable, nay, faultless. Just the right amount of attention whilst remaining mostly invisible. There is a copy of the days menu on your table in order to negate the need for those lengthy descriptions of every course on delivery, if you don’t want it. I quite like that though, so allowed them to indulge me. 

There’s a lot of ‘madame et monsieur’ which is all fine, lay it on as thick as you like. And you don’t order at the table, you decide what you want to eat in the foyer as you peruse over the menu with your hors d'oeuvres and a glass of champagne if you’re feeling extravagant. So once you’re seated, service is a series of flowing movements by the staff with little to no questioning or interruption.

I quietly sneezed at one point. Before I could reach into my handbag for a tissue, an outstretched arm with a box of them at the end of it appeared from the side of me. Exactly what I needed the moment I needed it - I was duly impressed.

The food was very good and in terms of value, the only real option is the seven course tasting menu. There was a little salad of Devonshire crab with grapefruit, mango and celery, then a confit of cod cooked to the exact point it just turns opaque, with limpid globules of pale green olive oil jelly sliding intact across the plate, the very youngest of basil leaves, firm white cocoa beans, smoky potatoes and tiny cubes of salty chorizo.

A take on green eggs had a spinach and watercress puree, the crunch of hazelnuts and crisped-up posh Spanish ham - that was very good. Then a picture perfect plate of different parts of a piglet - shoulder, succulent slices of leg, sensational black pudding, a Catherine Wheel spiral of crisp bacon (but without the sparks), and a neat cube of scored and browned belly. With it, cabbage, spinach, green beans, apple and onion pureé - a plate full of oink and joy.

Then there was a Comté served at three stages of maturation, 12, 24 and 36 months. A gradual increase in tang and crystallised saltiness, served with a complimentary glass of Vin Jaune 2006 (for those of you who can’t recall your GCSE French, that’s ‘yellow wine’), like a dry Fino sherry. The whole course was entirely typical of Blanc’s native region in the east of France, I loved it. 

Dessert began as an espresso cup housing a mousse with tart soft raspberries and cubes of what was a sort of spongy coconut meringue, the latter of which had little flavour or point. But it was topped with a kimono silk thin disk of chocolate with a speck of gold leaf which was fun to break through with the spoon. It ended with a sensational and intensely tart blackberry sorbet with disintegrating meringue, and a violet mousseux. Oh, and a birthday candle. A triumphant plate.

My partner swapped the final course in exchange for the cheese platter (for a charge of £15), and so we revelled in the theatre of one of the most handsome cheese trolleys I’ve seen wheeled out to us, the glorious honk of all that sweating dairy assaulting our noses before it made it round the corner. The cheese man (pardon me for not knowing the correct term for this member of staff - I’m sure there is one), was great and full of love for this magnificent spread. 

What you need to know is that the portion is huge - he will put a lot of cheese onto your plate. There’s even a tub of Stilton from which quenelles of the stuff are scraped up and shaped for your pleasure. I asked him to write down the ones we had, so as to identify them and purchase next time I’m at a posh cheese counter. For your knowledge too, they were: Blue - Colston Basset Stilton and Fourme d'Ambert; goat - Charolais and Sharpham Cremet; soft and ripened - Coulommiers; washed rind - Moelleux du Revard; hard - tommette de Savoie. We couldn’t finish it between the two of us, but what we did manage was nothing short of sublime.

It was at this point we walked about the estate before retiring to the lounge for coffee. We were at Le Manoir for a total of five hours and it was a glorious, languorous, lavish lunch.

My one point, and there really is only one, is that it is expensive. It’s in fact one of the most expensive restaurants in the UK, particularly when dining from the a la carte, with starters coming in at a hefty £40. The seven course tasting menu was £125. Add to that wine and coffee, and the bill soon mounts up. 

The focus of Le Manoir is on seasonality, expertly executed dishes, impeccable service and glorious surroundings. There are restaurants in London that can tick at least three of those four criteria with some confidence, and do so at a more agreeable price point. Whilst the food was all very good, it didn’t feel overly innovative or ‘current’ for use of a better term, something you might associate with such price tags. What it does do are classic dishes that aren’t too complicated, very well. And there’s certainly nothing wrong with that.

What’s particularly unusual, is they do not add service to the bill; Blanc’s note on the menu states they don’t want diners to feel as though they need to leave anything, but they can if they wish. I’m almost certain most do, and I do wonder if prices are a little inflated to compensate for this. 

Yes, you will pay handsomely for this dream ticket for out-of-town extravagance, as it remains the blueprint for the perfect luxury restaurant. I’m pleased I’ve ticked it off my bucket list, and I enjoyed the whole day immensely, but the price point will probably prevent me from passing through those grand gates again.

Liked lots: it's all rather faultless really; they give those active with them on Twitter a gift of a cookery book which is a nice touch
Likes less: it is pricey
Good for: very special occasions; experiencing cooking from a kitchen that has remained consistently excellent for years; a good reason to get out of London for the day

My rating: 4.5/5

Afiyet olsun.

the dairy, clapham common - review

Clapham has played a big part in my adult life - I've worked there for seven years. I've danced on the sofas at Venn St. Records - and set my hair alight in the process. I've snuck into the office after nights out to ascend to the roof and gaze over our spectacular city. I've lived not too far away in recent times, making the transition from north of the river to south about four years ago - Clapham North, now Colliers Wood. And I (thankfully) managed to never make it to Infernos during that time.

But when it comes to Clapham's restaurant scene, there's not a huge amount to get excited about. There is Trinity - recognised as a high-end neighbourhood establishment doing great things with seasonal produce - it’s on my list. Mama Lan does a cracking spicy ribbon tofu ban mein with pickles, and The Rapscallion has served me a very good duck confit with puy lentils and pomegranate before. Down the high street - for couples with a carton of Waitrose wine for the common wearing matching Havaianas, in March (please don't) - a place with Dualit toasters on each table where you pay for the privilege of browning your own bread. And there’s a Byron Burgers opening soon.
Not a great deal of note then, until that was, the opening of The Dairy in March 2013.

Along with a number of other high-end restaurants in London and beyond, Chef Robin Gill and his wife Sarah (commandeering front-of-house) previously worked at Le Manoir aux Quat’ Saisons. They’re from Dublin, now living locally in Brixton, and with their team have created a destination dining experience. It’s put Clapham firmly on the culinary map with one of those flag-pins you stick in a cork-board print of the world to proudly display that you’ve visited somewhere. It's had a similar effect. Until two weeks ago, I worked a five minute walk from The Dairy. I’ve enjoyed brief and exceedingly pleasant weekday lunches there, but they were never the tasting menus and they were never with wine. It’s taken the removal of my daily existence in SW4 and me no longer walking past it each morning to finally secure a visit. The environment is that of conviviality and rustic charm - seating straight out of a 60’s school room, daffodils and rosemary sprigs in simple glass vases, the day’s menu printed on rough brown paper. The crockery is a shabby-chic mix of pretty porcelain, vintage metal, slate and heavy stoneware, with some plates requiring weight behind to shift - the waiters must have some impressive guns. The front half is occupied by bars and stools for off-the-cuff visits (if there’s space) and free-wheeling ordering - expect to fidget as the seats are not the most ergonomic. At the rear you’ll find reservations for more intimate and private groups at the seemingly salvaged tables. We began with a swathe of green - hisby cabbage, crisped cavolo nero, ripe Nocellara olives. House lardo with spring white truffle, wild garlic and crunchy puffed rice stole my nose before my stomach - I stuck it right in and took a long and heady sniff. Several shades of earthy carrot slithers grown in the roof garden came with aerated buttermilk, sweet carrot purée, a small but intense crumbling of pristine goat’s cheese and toasted honeyed nuggets of nutty granola - each mouthful was a thrill.

Bread was broken over the table with the assistance of a knife - a mound of hot-from-the-oven sourdough - the breached crust bellowing puffs of steam. On this bread we alternated between the slathering of house butter whipped up with smoked bone marrow, and the satiny chicken liver parfait. Leave me alone with this scene for the remainder of the evening and I would have left just as happy. The unrivalled savoury pleasure unique to crisped fat was found in the hunks of fried chicken skin with a still soft layer beneath, baby courgettes that had felt the briefest heat treatment, and slippery wild mushrooms. Then there was a compact package of well-cooked seabass, swiss chard and bonito butter, followed by a Pollock-esque arrangement of smoked cod with glossy mashed potato, sparkly orange roe, fresh nori leaves and some sorrel that, for some reason, was overpoweringly fishy and unwanted. 

The 32-day aged Irish onglet with firm cubes of squash and black cabbage had flirted with heat so momentarily that beyond the outermost half millimetre, the flesh was red raw. Not a problem, if the cutlery was adequate enough to tackle this. With nothing sharper in the vicinity than a curved butter knife with no hint of serration (I did ask), I used the tools I was given to tear the meat apart into manageable chunks. It was a challenge to masticate in this form - it needed half a minute longer in the pan. We still cleared it.

An extra £4.50 for a finger of truffled Brie on toast was a pungent, creamy and oozing delight. A clementine segment sporting char from a lick of flames along with a wonderful neutral brown butter ice cream and puffed up rice (like less sweet Sugar Puffs) was really very good. But the salted caramel, cacao and malted barley parfait was better - a dark and rich consortium of all things chocolate should be on a plate; crunchy bits, viscous melty bits, smooth truffly bits, sweet and salty bits. Totally stellar.

To bid us farewell, a vintage tin housing still-warm doughnut balls dredged with hibiscus-spiked sugar, fragile shards of buttery shortbread, and glittering little cubes of sour apple jelly.

The seven course tasting menu for £45 will in fact get you ten separate and perfectly portioned plates of food (including petit fours and other throw-ins received with much enthusiasm). I am yet to find elsewhere in London with this sort of price-point in exchange for the same finesse of kitchen skill, number of courses and quality of ingredients experienced. If you haven’t yet eaten at The Dairy, a visit should be high on your priority list. If you have, I suspect your next is already on the cards. Liked lots: excellent value tasting menu; quality of ingredients; creativity of courses; number of dishes; location - a great restaurant only four tube stops from my house - rejoice; staff; atmosphere and interiors; the bi-fold windows open fully and face the green of the common - perfect for languorous lunches on a warm day. Likes less: - We felt a little rushed towards the end of our meal but were handled very well - we were moved to the bar to make our table free for the next sitting and had to scoff the doughnuts whilst putting on our coats. It probably takes a little longer than 2 hours to work through so many dishes (particularly if the extra cheese course is ordered) and that needs to be taken into consideration. I do think we were there for 2.5 hours though - the perils of booking an early evening reservation.
- They need cutlery with which meat can be cut. - The building always seems to have a lot of condensation - I can imagine it getting a bit sticky towards the back on sultry summer evenings. Good for: romance; affordable tasting menus with no compromise on quality; a reason to venture to this part of town.

My rating: 4/5

Find the menu on Zomato.

Afiyet olsun.

l'autre pied, marylebone - review

I recently treated my parents to dinner at The Ritz for an anniversary gift, and as the day approached my mother divulged, ‘we’re going to have to get your dad a new suit’. I had almost forgotten the strict code of attire at The Ritz - men must wear a jacket with tie and jeans are strictly prohibited. The opulence of the setting complete with a fully tuxedo’d front of house is certainly fitting for such robe requests, and everyone doing their bit when it comes to making an effort lends itself to an even more heightened dining experience of exclusivity and luxury. 

Whilst I’m sure dining at The Ritz is a very unique venture, it’s not really for me. I want to consume very good food without having to adhere to a dress dictatorship in order to do so. I recall my dining partner almost being refused entry to Hakkasan once due to his sport shoes, albeit very smart and pristine white ones with the addition of a blazer to boot - scandalous! My ideal location for a birthday treat (of which this meal was), would be an informal and relaxed restaurant with no pretenses serving Michelin quality food. And L’autre Pied in Marylebone achieves that in spades.

The kitchen is commandeered by head chef Andy McFadden and his seven course tasting menu was the agenda for the evening. On arrival we were seated by a very charming maitr’d who recommended a rather spectacular glass of Italian red, the name of which I failed to note. An amuse bouche began proceedings consisting of silk thin poppy seed pastry topped with cool, smooth and meaty chicken liver parfait and sprinkled with chopped olives.

Culinary artistry and refined presentation stole the limelight at each course. The first involved compressed cucumber with frozen gazpacho, akin to incredibly flavoursome crushed ice alongside an intense flavour of cucumber and topped with black onion seeds. The dish sang the familiar notes of a typically Turkish sandwich comprising of sesame seed topped bread, cucumber, and salt from halloumi (in this case from the well seasoned gazpacho) - light and refreshing and quite the picture.

A salad of radishes with black quinoa, crème fraîche, fennel and dill followed. I was more than happy to let the mispronunciation from the waitress of quinoa as ‘kwin-owa’ (actually pronounced ‘keen-wah’) slide, as the plate itself was striking enough in its appearance to distract me, with the flavours and textures to match. Delicate, crisp and clean and with hard raw beads of the grain to provide interest between the teeth.

The third course continued with the theme of vegetables as the star attraction and with one of my favourites taking centre stage - beetroot. A generous wedge of it was served baked alongside a balsamic gel, a gratifyingly wobbly horseradish panna cotta, small and perfectly piped meringues dyed pink from beetroot juice with a sublimely satisfying texture when penetrated with the fork, and crunchy beetroot and balsamic crisps intense with the flavour from both; I particularly enjoyed the inclusion of techniques usually reserved for desserts in this dish. Course devoured and plate left like a scene from a Tarantino set, typical of the ruby red vegetable presence.

Fish was next to decorate our table in the form of poached pollock with gem lettuce, broad beans, peas and mint. This was my least favourite dish and I would go so far as saying it was disappointing. The fish was underseasoned and added little, if anything, to the plate. It was served alongside a foam of some sort which was also entirely lacking in any discernable flavour. The vegetables were the redeemers and topped with pea shoots - an arresting vibrant green, perfectly al dente and exceedingly fresh.

Red meat soon followed - slow cooked shoulder of roe deer with the flesh sporting slightly caramelised and toughened edges deep with flavour. Tea smoked prunes and baby carrots provided sweetness and the plate was dressed with a rich jus, carrot oil and a peanut crumble, although I was only able to detect little presence of the latter.  Soft and flaking meat characteristic of an eight hour low heat treatment.

Onto the second stomach for desserts spanning two courses. To begin, an apple custard with honeycomb, sharp palate cleansing raspberry sorbet, speckled with pieces of rose water meringue (very similar in both flavour and texture to the nuggets of sin found in the tooth-achingly sweet Lucky Charms cereal), and topped with a sprinkling of toasted pistachio, the flavour of which I adore about as much as toasted sesame - almost certainly due to my part-Turkish heritage. A quite wonderful and well thought out dessert.

French Gariguette strawberries served at room temperature (a cold fridge sucks out the flavour from a strawberry) along with an exceedingly coconutty ice cream, yoghurt and passion fruit drew the very pleasing proceedings to a close.

Service throughout was warm and attentive without being overbearing. Interiors are muted and casual, allowing the expertise and precise presentation demonstrated through the food to take centre stage. The lack of a trous normand before dessert or petit fours after was a little unexpected when compared to other Michelin tasting menus I've sampled, particularly the sister restaurant Pied a Terre, where both were received. But L’autre Pied, whilst still maintaining highly commendable standards, is the slightly more accessible of the two with good value set menus for the quality received, and a wine list with prices that don’t cause a pained wince on perusal. 

On the note of value, it’s certainly worth mentioning that this particular meal was part of a deal sold on Groupon - 50% off a seven course tasting menu for two. Or two for the price of one, in other words. I thought it highly uncharacteristic of a Michelin venue to lend itself to Groupon, whilst also offering such significant discounts within the deal. But as far as I could tell, the menu was identical to full paying customers and we received the same service and experience as the diners around us. I in fact commend L’autre Pied for shunning the judgements of others and actively making their food accessible to more people - bravo.

With the full priced seven course tasting menu coming in at a very reasonable £62 per person, a visit is certainly more than worthwhile for a special occasion or a well deserved treat.

Liked lots: relaxed and informal fine dining atmosphere, asking for any dietary requirements prior to taking our order; pillowy warm bread basket straight from the oven, service, reasonably priced wine, the Groupon deal, wonderful presentation throughout, location
Liked less: fish dish, lack of petit fours
Good for: introduction to fine dining, romantic meal, special occasions

My rating: 4/5

Afiyet olsun.

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