Four Seasons, Gerrard Street, Chinatown

Mr Oil and Mr Vinegar, intrigued as ever by the Orient, have been to Chinatown in Soho to investigate claims that the Four Seasons (a Chinese restaurant rather than a giant international hotel group) serves the best roast duck in the world...

MrV: I hate Gerrard Street as a general rule.
MrO: What is it you hate most – the charming decorations or the general sense of fun?
MrV: I hate ghettos. You feel as if everyone’s sharing a big secret except you and a few other mugs.
MrO: Yes, I daresay that by speaking their own language amongst themselves they must be conspiring against you.
MrV: Your puerile attempts at sarcastic humour leave me cold. Anyway, what about the Four Seasons? What did you think of the look of the place?
MrO: I must admit, the look of it is not particularly impressive – at least no more nor less so than anywhere else in Gerrard Street.
MrV: Agreed – a lot of dead ducks hanging in the window and special offers everywhere. Inside was no better.
MrO: It’s not famous for the decor, that much is certain. But it was plain and unpretentious. The chairs were reasonably comfortable and the tables weren’t packed too closely together.
MrV: The service was quite casual.
MrO: I saw that as an advantage, as I feel a little uncomfortable with all the bowing and scraping that goes on in some Chinese restaurants...
MrV: Not in Soho. My brother once was at a dim sum restaurant round the corner when a bit of food popped out from between the chopsticks and fell on the floor. In a trice a Chinese waiter was standing next to him, screaming in his face: ‘Put food in mouth, not on floor!’
MrO: Not an entirely unreasonable suggestion. I was impressed at how smooth and fast the service was at the Four Seasons.
MrV: Except for the wine. It was a full 15 minutes after I’d finished my beer before he brought the wine, and that was only because I reminded him.
MrO: He was very apologetic and friendly. And it was quite exceptionally decent Pinot Grigio at £20 a bottle. I think you are being unreasonably critical, particularly as you raved about those spicy prawn dumplings.
MrV: They were good. Very good, in fact. Probably the best I’ve had.
MrO: Good heavens. Undiluted praise for once. What about the fried noodles?
MrV: They were a surprise.
MrO: I know. How they got so much flavour into fried noodles and a few beansprouts is beyond me. They must have cooked them in very strong stock or something. And what about the special barbecue roast duck? It was so rich and moist and tender that, I must say, I’m inclined to agree with all those critics who say it is the best roast duck in all the world.
MrV: Then you must be as stupid as them. You haven’t been to all the world, for a start, and you haven’t tasted roast duck everywhere you’ve been. So you have no idea. In the part of China these chaps come from, duck like this might be as common as fish and chips are over here.
MrO: Except that this one has a secret recipe, handed down through generations.
MrV: Maybe it has. Maybe it’s all an inscrutably clever public relations ruse.
MrO: Are you saying you’ve had better roast duck elsewhere?
MrV: Well, no.
MrO: Are you saying you know exactly how it is made, and could replicate the process?
MrV: Of course not you fool.
MrO: So it was the best you’ve had. Can you think of any legitimate criticisms?
MrV: There was too much. I had to leave half of it and you know how I hate waste. They should have warned us.
MrO: You ordered a whole duck because you said it only cost £20 so where was the harm if you couldn’t finish it.
MrV: Shut up.

Mr Oil and Mr Vinegar shared one portion of spicy prawn dumplings, one portion of fried noodles and one whole roast duck (off the bone recommended), as well as a glass of beer each and a bottle of Pinot Grigio. The total cost was about £60.

Four Seasons

2 Gerrard Street
Soho
London
W1D 5PR
+44 (0) 207 494 0870