Mr Oil and Mr Vinegar have been to a favourite old haunt, Le Suquet in South Kensington.
MrO: I can’t shake the memory of this place in the 80s? It was full all the time, one of the most popular haunts in this part of London. That was when Jean-Yves Darcel of Le Beaujolais [see past reviews] was chef here.
MrV: Yes, it’s a pity they haven’t maintained that popularity. In those days the restaurant was ahead of its time but now, with the exception of the food, everything else seems a bit dated. It’s a pity because South Kensington has never been richer, stuffed to the gills with wealthy Russians and Americans who eat out at restaurants all the time. Perhaps they need to change the decor.
MrO: But I like the blue and white seaside restaurant theme, even if it is a bit tired.
MrV: Maybe it not the decor. Maybe it’s the service.
MrO: I thought they did well considering how few staff there are.
MrV: Possibly, but their staffing problems are hardly the concern of customers, are they? Anyway, it’s more than that. This place needs someone with confidence to give it a kick up the backside. Confidence is what brings the customers in.
MrO: You might have a point but then again look at Gordon Ramsay, Jean-Cristophe Novelli and Marco Pierre White...
MrV: ...Ha! The chicken stock promoter...
MrO: ...who all have more confidence than one can tolerate but have all had to shut restaurants – presumably not because they had too many customers.
MrV: Well, there’s something missing at Le Suquet, and no doubt about it.
MrO: It should certainly have had more than a dozen customers on a sunny Thursday lunchtime. But the food is so wonderful - and on the face of it very good value.
MrV: Yes, but the price creeps up with all the add-ons, doesn’t it. Perhaps that what keeps people away.
MrO: There weren’t any add-ons! None at all! You insisted on ordering six substantial starters between two of us.
MrV: The Belons oysters were irresistible – quite my favourite – but we had to have the frogs’ legs and the snails, too, for the full experience.
MrO: You scarcely touched the frogs’ legs.
MrV: The richness of it all was starting to get to me by then.
MrO: Which is why you also left the moules farcies. You over-ruled me why I suggested moules mariniere and then didn’t touch the dish you ordered.
MrV: I’d had a little too much garlic and butter by then.
MrO: There was no need for that when there is so much simply cooked seafood on the menu. It was the same with the palourde clams and the langoustine grilled in butter and herbs.
MrV: The clams were sensational. And I didn’t notice you holding back on any of it.
MrO: That’s because I can’t bear to see great food go to waste – unlike you.
MrV: Anyway, the Bailli de Suffren blanc was very fine – exceptional, in fact, at £30 a bottle. I like Provencal wine more and more. It fully deserved our repeated attention. I don’t know why I don’t use this place more often.
MrO: We must resolve to revisit Le Suquet soon.
Mr Oil and Mr Vinegar consumed six substantial starters but no main courses, two puddings, two bottles and a small carafe of wine, two Poire Williams and coffee at a total cost of £250.
Le Suquet
104 Draycott Avenue
London SW3 3AE
Tel: +44 207 581 1785
(Internet bookings not taken)
http://www.lesuquet.co.uk
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
Tinello, Pimlico Road
Mr Oil and Mr Vinegar have been to the bit of Pimlico where the residents claim they are in Belgravia, to sample Tinello, the latest restaurant backed by Giorgio Locatelli.
MrO: I have always liked Locatelli restaurants. Zafferano was excellent and when he fell out with the financial backers and had to leave it was rather a tragedy.
MrV: Tragedy is probably too strong a word for a cook moving from one kitchen to another. Anyway, from what I hear it did him a huge favour, as Zafferano had been so stressful he’d sacked dozens of staff.
MrO: The next one, Locanda Locatelli, has been a great success. I don’t know how he manages to achieve such a pleasant and peaceful atmosphere in the restaurant with all that aggression going on behind the kitchen door.
MrV: Probably something to with the location – a dreary no-man’s-land north of Marble Arch.
MrO: It’s true that you don’t see as many PR types hanging out there as often as you might expect.
MrV: I think they’re all scared because of the killing.
MrO: What killing?
MrV: Late 80s, the European boss of that American PR firm, Burson Marsteller, was stabbed to death in a room at the Churchill, which is the hotel where Locanda Locatelli is. I think most PR people are scared that any one of their clients might do the same to them at the drop of a hat, so they steer clear.
MrO: Hmmn, a slightly fanciful theory, I think, but congratulations on your long memory. Anyway, what did you think of Tinello?
MrV: I quite liked its predecessor, L’Incontro, but that was very expensive. This is an improvement in both price and quality of food, I believe.
MrO: Good Heavens. You’ve said something positive.
MrV: I have waited for ages for other than Spanish and Oriental restaurants to offer a starter consisting of several dishes – tapas, in effect – and Tinello has done it, so well done.
MrO: Yes, I like the idea of “Small Eats”, as they call it, instead of a one-dish starter – although they did those as well - and they were very good. I particularly liked the deep fried Sicilian prawns but the prosciutto, the crostini, the zucchini fritte – all very tasty and nicely executed.
MrV: Don’t say executed – makes me think of the Churchill again. My gurnard linguine was absolutely delicious – a very rich fishy flavour, which was surprising because gurnard can be a bit bland.
MrO: My paccheri pasta tubes were very good with nduja...
MrV: Hinduja? The Indian billionaire? Was he there?
MrO: ...no, nduja. Soft sausagey stuff. Very tasty. I told you this at the time. What’s happened to that great memory of yours?
MrV: I recall that the sorbet was pretty decent, but that the bottle of Barbera was a little unimpressive at £45. Still, apart from that it all seemed very reasonably priced and I will go again.
Mr Oil and Mr Vinegar ate six “Small Eats” as a starter followed by a pasta dish each and then sorbet. They drank a half bottle of Gavi, a bottle of Barbera, two glasses of limoncello, a glass of pudding wine and coffee, at a total cost of about £150.
Tinello
87 Pimlico Road
London
SW1W 8PH
Tel: +44 207 730 3663
info@tinello.co.uk
http://www.tinello.co.uk
MrO: I have always liked Locatelli restaurants. Zafferano was excellent and when he fell out with the financial backers and had to leave it was rather a tragedy.
MrV: Tragedy is probably too strong a word for a cook moving from one kitchen to another. Anyway, from what I hear it did him a huge favour, as Zafferano had been so stressful he’d sacked dozens of staff.
MrO: The next one, Locanda Locatelli, has been a great success. I don’t know how he manages to achieve such a pleasant and peaceful atmosphere in the restaurant with all that aggression going on behind the kitchen door.
MrV: Probably something to with the location – a dreary no-man’s-land north of Marble Arch.
MrO: It’s true that you don’t see as many PR types hanging out there as often as you might expect.
MrV: I think they’re all scared because of the killing.
MrO: What killing?
MrV: Late 80s, the European boss of that American PR firm, Burson Marsteller, was stabbed to death in a room at the Churchill, which is the hotel where Locanda Locatelli is. I think most PR people are scared that any one of their clients might do the same to them at the drop of a hat, so they steer clear.
MrO: Hmmn, a slightly fanciful theory, I think, but congratulations on your long memory. Anyway, what did you think of Tinello?
MrV: I quite liked its predecessor, L’Incontro, but that was very expensive. This is an improvement in both price and quality of food, I believe.
MrO: Good Heavens. You’ve said something positive.
MrV: I have waited for ages for other than Spanish and Oriental restaurants to offer a starter consisting of several dishes – tapas, in effect – and Tinello has done it, so well done.
MrO: Yes, I like the idea of “Small Eats”, as they call it, instead of a one-dish starter – although they did those as well - and they were very good. I particularly liked the deep fried Sicilian prawns but the prosciutto, the crostini, the zucchini fritte – all very tasty and nicely executed.
MrV: Don’t say executed – makes me think of the Churchill again. My gurnard linguine was absolutely delicious – a very rich fishy flavour, which was surprising because gurnard can be a bit bland.
MrO: My paccheri pasta tubes were very good with nduja...
MrV: Hinduja? The Indian billionaire? Was he there?
MrO: ...no, nduja. Soft sausagey stuff. Very tasty. I told you this at the time. What’s happened to that great memory of yours?
MrV: I recall that the sorbet was pretty decent, but that the bottle of Barbera was a little unimpressive at £45. Still, apart from that it all seemed very reasonably priced and I will go again.
Mr Oil and Mr Vinegar ate six “Small Eats” as a starter followed by a pasta dish each and then sorbet. They drank a half bottle of Gavi, a bottle of Barbera, two glasses of limoncello, a glass of pudding wine and coffee, at a total cost of about £150.
Tinello
87 Pimlico Road
London
SW1W 8PH
Tel: +44 207 730 3663
info@tinello.co.uk
http://www.tinello.co.uk
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
Brasserie St Jacques, St James's
Mr Oil and Mr Vinegar, after lengthy summer sojourns out of London, celebrate their reappearance with a review of St Jacques Brasserie, a remarkable little piece of France in the middle of St James’s.
MrO: It’s good to be back in London.
MrV: Not really, although it does signal some pleasantly cool weather on the way. Can’t bear sunshine. Hate hot weather.
MrO: Yes, it must be uncomfortable for you.
MrV: Is that some sort of comment about my weight? It’s got nothing to do with that. It’s because in London one has to wear a suit wherever one goes and it’s damnably uncomfortable when the sun is shining – or when the humidity level rises, come to that.
MrO: I didn’t mean to offend – unlike you, most of the time.
MrV: Well let’s get on with reviewing this place. It is far from perfect. The service, for one thing, is very patchy. Occasionally they forget to be polite and are either brusque or even impertinent.
MrO: There is some truth in what you say, but I think it is all done with a basic warmth and enjoyment. The people who work there seem to like it, and that has to be a good sign.
MrV: Perhaps. There is a jolly atmosphere, to be sure, but there’s also a lack of attention to detail. There were quite a few crumbs on the floor under the table next to us and nobody swept them up after the occupants left.
MrO: But that was at 2.30 in the afternoon. They were presumably waiting for the restaurant to empty before clearing up properly. Anyway, it’s a brasserie very much on the Parisian model and a few crumbs on the floor of such a place in Paris would hardly excite attention. Much more importantly, I think the food is very good.
MrV: I did enjoy mine. Three bits of bone with the marrow roasted in them – quite delicious. My wife won’t touch bone marrow – nor will most people in this country, but they forget that bone marrow was the brain food which propelled humans to the top of the evolutionary tree. That’s why vegetarians are so thick...
MrO: The snails were excellent, plenty of garlicky butter and good crusty bread to soak it up. What about your main course?
MrV: Hand-cut steak tartare is what this place is quite famous for, and rightly so, although I’ve also had the trio of pork – pig’s cheeks, blood sausage and pork belly – and can recommend that, too.
MrO: My onglet de boeuf was as good as I’ve had anywhere and the crepe suzette to follow was beautifully done at the table.
MrV: Very impressive, no doubt. I had no complaints about my raspberry compote. And I couldn’t really complain about the prices, either. Our starters were less than a tenner each and the main courses less £20, which is a rare thing in St James’s.
MrO: The red Coudoulet didn’t seem unreasonable at £55 a bottle. I’d go again.
MrV: I certainly shall. Perhaps next time I’ll bring them a dustpan and brush in lieu of a tip.
Mr Oil and Mr Vinegar consumed three courses each plus one glass of Chablis, one vodka and tonic, one bottle of Rhone, four glasses of a house red from the Languedoc and two cups of coffee, ayt a total cost of £199.80.
Brasserie St Jacques
33 St James’s Street
London SW1 1HD
Tel: +44 207 839 1007
brasseriestjacques@btconnect.com
http://www.brasseriestjacques.co.uk
MrO: It’s good to be back in London.
MrV: Not really, although it does signal some pleasantly cool weather on the way. Can’t bear sunshine. Hate hot weather.
MrO: Yes, it must be uncomfortable for you.
MrV: Is that some sort of comment about my weight? It’s got nothing to do with that. It’s because in London one has to wear a suit wherever one goes and it’s damnably uncomfortable when the sun is shining – or when the humidity level rises, come to that.
MrO: I didn’t mean to offend – unlike you, most of the time.
MrV: Well let’s get on with reviewing this place. It is far from perfect. The service, for one thing, is very patchy. Occasionally they forget to be polite and are either brusque or even impertinent.
MrO: There is some truth in what you say, but I think it is all done with a basic warmth and enjoyment. The people who work there seem to like it, and that has to be a good sign.
MrV: Perhaps. There is a jolly atmosphere, to be sure, but there’s also a lack of attention to detail. There were quite a few crumbs on the floor under the table next to us and nobody swept them up after the occupants left.
MrO: But that was at 2.30 in the afternoon. They were presumably waiting for the restaurant to empty before clearing up properly. Anyway, it’s a brasserie very much on the Parisian model and a few crumbs on the floor of such a place in Paris would hardly excite attention. Much more importantly, I think the food is very good.
MrV: I did enjoy mine. Three bits of bone with the marrow roasted in them – quite delicious. My wife won’t touch bone marrow – nor will most people in this country, but they forget that bone marrow was the brain food which propelled humans to the top of the evolutionary tree. That’s why vegetarians are so thick...
MrO: The snails were excellent, plenty of garlicky butter and good crusty bread to soak it up. What about your main course?
MrV: Hand-cut steak tartare is what this place is quite famous for, and rightly so, although I’ve also had the trio of pork – pig’s cheeks, blood sausage and pork belly – and can recommend that, too.
MrO: My onglet de boeuf was as good as I’ve had anywhere and the crepe suzette to follow was beautifully done at the table.
MrV: Very impressive, no doubt. I had no complaints about my raspberry compote. And I couldn’t really complain about the prices, either. Our starters were less than a tenner each and the main courses less £20, which is a rare thing in St James’s.
MrO: The red Coudoulet didn’t seem unreasonable at £55 a bottle. I’d go again.
MrV: I certainly shall. Perhaps next time I’ll bring them a dustpan and brush in lieu of a tip.
Mr Oil and Mr Vinegar consumed three courses each plus one glass of Chablis, one vodka and tonic, one bottle of Rhone, four glasses of a house red from the Languedoc and two cups of coffee, ayt a total cost of £199.80.
Brasserie St Jacques
33 St James’s Street
London SW1 1HD
Tel: +44 207 839 1007
brasseriestjacques@btconnect.com
http://www.brasseriestjacques.co.uk
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
Bar Boulud, Knightsbridge
Mr Oil and Mr Vinegar have been to Knightsbridge - to Bar Boulud, the second and lesser-known restaurant at the Mandarin Oriental hotel, tucked under Heston Blumenthal’s London flagship.
MrV: It looked a bit empty on the way in. People probably couldn’t get here because of all the police causing a jam on Park Lane.
MrO: There was a big Chinese delegation upstairs - perhaps at Heston’s place.
MrV: Why is it that no foreign dignitaries can do anything in London without involving hundreds if not thousands of police? I am convinced that it is a PR stunt by Scotland Yard to counteract the obvious worthlessness of modern policing.
MrO: Er, that is rather a large statement, which has little to do with restaurants.
MrV: Maybe so, but we all pay for this rubbish policing and it’s reflected in the cost of our restaurant bills, our taxis and everything else. The Home Office deliberately obfuscates the cost but it is somewhere north of £20 billion a year, despite the Tories’ half-hearted cost-cutting. It’d be cheaper and more effective to reintroduce the hue and cry, which served us well for thousands of years.
MrO: Anyway, what did we think of Bar Boulud.
MrV: Inevitably, it suffers from having an internationally-stretched celebrity chef at its helm. Daniel Boulud has restaurants all over the United States and if he spent all his time in Knightsbridge I guess his partners elsewhere would want to know why.
MrO: Didn’t you like the food?
MrV: It was mixed. Very little was excellent. The Coward Burger...
MrO: It was called the Frenchie burger...
MrV: ...whatever – was bland, inexcusably under-seasoned. And the grilled prawns had an excellent flavour but had been left too long on the chargrill and were caramelised to the point of leatheriness on one side.
MrO: You raved about the starter.
MrV: I did, and rightly so. The pigs’ ears had been deep-fried at such a temperature that they were halfway between pork crackling and prawn crackers. Quite the most entertaining starter I’ve had for years. The noise of people cracking and crunching them was audible throughout the restaurant, like a minor fireworks display.
MrO: I loved the space. It is big but sort of bitty so that it feels more intimate.
MrV: Which makes it harder to catch the eye of a waiter.
MrO: I also liked my starter – the sausage roll in brioche.
MrV: It was an interesting texture, to be sure, but the brioche drowned the flavour of the sausage meat. I wouldn’t try it again.
MrO: But would you try the restaurant again?
MrV: I would. The atmosphere, air conditioning and quality of the sorbets alone warrant another visit.
MrO: I particularly like the offer of one glass at a time from a very large bottle of fine wine. It means you can drink well but not to excess. Not that that would interest you.
MrV: I agree. That is a fine innovation. But I wish they’d tidy up the food menu and also make it a bit more coherent. Main course prices lurching from £11.50 to £44 just leave one feeling confused and irritable, as if they are inviting you to be either a miser or a fool.
MrO: Wasn’t this the site where Marco Pierre White earned his third Michelin Star?
MrV: You’re right, it was, back in 1994 – and look where it took him. He’s a turkey salesman and Knorr stock promoter now.
MrO: Let’s hope that Daniel Boulud has more success.
Mr Oil and Mr Vinegar enjoyed between them two glasses of Puligny Montrachet, a bottle of Chateauneuf du Pape (at £76), two starters, two main courses and two puddings, followed by two glasses of liqueur and a glass of good claret, plus mineral water and coffee, at a total cost of about £255.
Bar Boulud
Mandarin Oriental Hotel
66 Knightsbridge
London
SW1X 7LA
+44 (0)20 7201 3899
molon-barboulud@mohg.com
http://www.danielnyc.com/barbouludLondon.html
MrV: It looked a bit empty on the way in. People probably couldn’t get here because of all the police causing a jam on Park Lane.
MrO: There was a big Chinese delegation upstairs - perhaps at Heston’s place.
MrV: Why is it that no foreign dignitaries can do anything in London without involving hundreds if not thousands of police? I am convinced that it is a PR stunt by Scotland Yard to counteract the obvious worthlessness of modern policing.
MrO: Er, that is rather a large statement, which has little to do with restaurants.
MrV: Maybe so, but we all pay for this rubbish policing and it’s reflected in the cost of our restaurant bills, our taxis and everything else. The Home Office deliberately obfuscates the cost but it is somewhere north of £20 billion a year, despite the Tories’ half-hearted cost-cutting. It’d be cheaper and more effective to reintroduce the hue and cry, which served us well for thousands of years.
MrO: Anyway, what did we think of Bar Boulud.
MrV: Inevitably, it suffers from having an internationally-stretched celebrity chef at its helm. Daniel Boulud has restaurants all over the United States and if he spent all his time in Knightsbridge I guess his partners elsewhere would want to know why.
MrO: Didn’t you like the food?
MrV: It was mixed. Very little was excellent. The Coward Burger...
MrO: It was called the Frenchie burger...
MrV: ...whatever – was bland, inexcusably under-seasoned. And the grilled prawns had an excellent flavour but had been left too long on the chargrill and were caramelised to the point of leatheriness on one side.
MrO: You raved about the starter.
MrV: I did, and rightly so. The pigs’ ears had been deep-fried at such a temperature that they were halfway between pork crackling and prawn crackers. Quite the most entertaining starter I’ve had for years. The noise of people cracking and crunching them was audible throughout the restaurant, like a minor fireworks display.
MrO: I loved the space. It is big but sort of bitty so that it feels more intimate.
MrV: Which makes it harder to catch the eye of a waiter.
MrO: I also liked my starter – the sausage roll in brioche.
MrV: It was an interesting texture, to be sure, but the brioche drowned the flavour of the sausage meat. I wouldn’t try it again.
MrO: But would you try the restaurant again?
MrV: I would. The atmosphere, air conditioning and quality of the sorbets alone warrant another visit.
MrO: I particularly like the offer of one glass at a time from a very large bottle of fine wine. It means you can drink well but not to excess. Not that that would interest you.
MrV: I agree. That is a fine innovation. But I wish they’d tidy up the food menu and also make it a bit more coherent. Main course prices lurching from £11.50 to £44 just leave one feeling confused and irritable, as if they are inviting you to be either a miser or a fool.
MrO: Wasn’t this the site where Marco Pierre White earned his third Michelin Star?
MrV: You’re right, it was, back in 1994 – and look where it took him. He’s a turkey salesman and Knorr stock promoter now.
MrO: Let’s hope that Daniel Boulud has more success.
Mr Oil and Mr Vinegar enjoyed between them two glasses of Puligny Montrachet, a bottle of Chateauneuf du Pape (at £76), two starters, two main courses and two puddings, followed by two glasses of liqueur and a glass of good claret, plus mineral water and coffee, at a total cost of about £255.
Bar Boulud
Mandarin Oriental Hotel
66 Knightsbridge
London
SW1X 7LA
+44 (0)20 7201 3899
molon-barboulud@mohg.com
http://www.danielnyc.com/barbouludLondon.html
Monday, May 23, 2011
Racine, Knightsbridge
Mr Oil and Mr Vinegar have been to the Knightsbridge area, where they dropped in at the Bunch of Grapes pub before revisiting nearby Racine, the much-praised Bourgeois French restaurant on the Brompton Road.
MrV: That used to be a decent boozer, the Bunch.
MrO: I liked it. A good spot for an afternoon session or a sharpener before dinner.
MrV: Now the staff can’t be bothered. They spend most of their time talking in foreign amongst themselves. God knows where the landlord was.
MrO: Maybe it’s part of a chain.
MrV: I’ll bet it is. Someone should compile a list of all the pubs in London which are owned and run by an actual person rather than a corporation. Those would be the only ones I’d visit.
MrO: I was not disappointed, though, by our return visit to Racine. It is just as good as it was when we last went, about five years ago.
MrV: There’s been terrible upheaval in the meantime, though. Henry Harris left to do his cheffing elsewhere and that front-of-house man Garnier set about buying him out, but then things got turned on their heads in the courts and Garnier was pushed out and Harris got control back again. It looked very messy and we never really heard the full story.
MrO: It was good to see that the front-of house was back under control.
MrV: I thought that waitress was a bit fraught.
MrO: Well, we did arrive right in the middle of the evening service. It doesn’t get more pressurised than that. Anyway, we weren’t kept waiting and the food was superb.
MrV: I couldn’t fault them on that. I am not quite used to eating oysters outside the old seasons but those Brownsea Island rock oysters were very good. Big and fat and tasty.
MrO: Yes, it was unadventurous of us to have the same starter but I am glad we did. They were excellent.
MrV: My calf’s brains were as good as any I ever had – much more interesting than your prissy brain and also quite beautifully caramelised in butter, and doubly enjoyable because it was National Vegetarian Week at the time.
MrO: My steak tartare was also very fine but you can get decent steak tartare in plenty of places. I wish now I’d given the menu more attention because I’d have loved to try either the calf’s head, for which Harris is famous, or the 45-day-hung Côte de boeuf.
MrV: I was pleased to see plenty on the wine list at less than £30 per bottle but I didn’t spot anything that you might call a bargain. That Chateau Dauzac 2000 – was delicious but pretty fully priced, I think, at £97 for the bottle.
MrO: Racine is only doing what almost every other restaurateur does. But the more I think about it, the more of a case there is for challenging the old three-times – or even three-and-a-half-times - rule of thumb. I am quite sure that if restaurateurs went for a more realistic system, they’d do better. People would drink more, feel better for having drunk better quality stuff and probably dine out more often as a result.
MrV: Restaurateurs are generally not inspired when it comes to business innovation. They’ll discount their food because everyone else does but the wine mark-up is as sacrosanct to them as tax is to a lefty. They should take a lesson from the fact that when taxes come down, tax receipts almost invariably go up.
Mr Oil and Mr Vinegar enjoyed two starters, two main courses and one pudding, accompanied by two glasses of Muscadet, a bottle of fine claret, bottled water and coffee, at a total cost of £211.31.
Racine
239 Brompton Road
London SW3 2EP
+44 (0) 20 7584 4477
bonjour@racine.com
http://www.racine-restaurant.com
MrV: That used to be a decent boozer, the Bunch.
MrO: I liked it. A good spot for an afternoon session or a sharpener before dinner.
MrV: Now the staff can’t be bothered. They spend most of their time talking in foreign amongst themselves. God knows where the landlord was.
MrO: Maybe it’s part of a chain.
MrV: I’ll bet it is. Someone should compile a list of all the pubs in London which are owned and run by an actual person rather than a corporation. Those would be the only ones I’d visit.
MrO: I was not disappointed, though, by our return visit to Racine. It is just as good as it was when we last went, about five years ago.
MrV: There’s been terrible upheaval in the meantime, though. Henry Harris left to do his cheffing elsewhere and that front-of-house man Garnier set about buying him out, but then things got turned on their heads in the courts and Garnier was pushed out and Harris got control back again. It looked very messy and we never really heard the full story.
MrO: It was good to see that the front-of house was back under control.
MrV: I thought that waitress was a bit fraught.
MrO: Well, we did arrive right in the middle of the evening service. It doesn’t get more pressurised than that. Anyway, we weren’t kept waiting and the food was superb.
MrV: I couldn’t fault them on that. I am not quite used to eating oysters outside the old seasons but those Brownsea Island rock oysters were very good. Big and fat and tasty.
MrO: Yes, it was unadventurous of us to have the same starter but I am glad we did. They were excellent.
MrV: My calf’s brains were as good as any I ever had – much more interesting than your prissy brain and also quite beautifully caramelised in butter, and doubly enjoyable because it was National Vegetarian Week at the time.
MrO: My steak tartare was also very fine but you can get decent steak tartare in plenty of places. I wish now I’d given the menu more attention because I’d have loved to try either the calf’s head, for which Harris is famous, or the 45-day-hung Côte de boeuf.
MrV: I was pleased to see plenty on the wine list at less than £30 per bottle but I didn’t spot anything that you might call a bargain. That Chateau Dauzac 2000 – was delicious but pretty fully priced, I think, at £97 for the bottle.
MrO: Racine is only doing what almost every other restaurateur does. But the more I think about it, the more of a case there is for challenging the old three-times – or even three-and-a-half-times - rule of thumb. I am quite sure that if restaurateurs went for a more realistic system, they’d do better. People would drink more, feel better for having drunk better quality stuff and probably dine out more often as a result.
MrV: Restaurateurs are generally not inspired when it comes to business innovation. They’ll discount their food because everyone else does but the wine mark-up is as sacrosanct to them as tax is to a lefty. They should take a lesson from the fact that when taxes come down, tax receipts almost invariably go up.
Mr Oil and Mr Vinegar enjoyed two starters, two main courses and one pudding, accompanied by two glasses of Muscadet, a bottle of fine claret, bottled water and coffee, at a total cost of £211.31.
Racine
239 Brompton Road
London SW3 2EP
+44 (0) 20 7584 4477
bonjour@racine.com
http://www.racine-restaurant.com
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
Bob Bob Ricard, Soho
Mr Oil and Mr Vinegar have been to the childishly-named Bob Bob Ricard in Soho, but found it to be a pleasingly grown-up experience...
MrV: I didn’t like those potted shrimps at all. They weren’t how potted shrimps are supposed to be. They were gungy.
MrO: You only have one serious criticism of the whole experience and you choose to lead off on it. That’s not nice. Quite churlish, I’d say.
MrV: Well, I’m particular about my potted shrimps.
MrO: But the rest of it was very good, wasn’t it?
MrV: I like the decor. Most restaurants won’t use booths because it limits the size of groups but they are by far the most pleasant and private way to dine. These ones were rather comfortable, too.
MrO: My starter of venison tartare was very interesting – a little drier than beef steak tartare but none the worse for that. And the main course – the onglet steak – was very good indeed. You don’t see this too often on menus...
MrV: That’s because it is so tough.
MrO: ...because it is a little chewier and more difficult to cook properly than the more popular cuts, but the flavour is superb. It used to be known as the “butcher’s cut” because the butcher would often keep it for himself. Bob Bob Ricard’s chef cooked mine perfectly – just rare enough to stop it getting rubbery.
MrV: I was feeling a little grouchy so I decided to test them with their cheeseburger, and I must confess it was fine. I particularly enjoyed being able to choose between posh cheddar or a Kraft cheese slice, which latter is of course the right thing to put on a burger.
MrO: It is quite an eccentric place, isn’t it?
MrV: Certainly is. What sort of a name is Bob Bob Ricard, anyway? Sounds like a French Teletubby, or perhaps like someone who’s drowned in that foul French aniseed drink.
MrO: It is a silly name – apparently named after the owners – but we are in Soho, after all. Silliness prevails, even to the extent that there is a “press here for champagne” button in each booth.
MrV: I wonder if they are being silly about their wine pricing policy. Putting a cap of £50 on mark-ups may be a dangerous game.
MrO: I love it. It is time someone challenged the system of marking wine up by 300 – 350%. If it’s a bottle that would cost £6 in the supermarket you don’t mind paying £20 because they have the investment, storage and handling costs to cover before they find a profit, but doing the same thing to a £30 bottle of wine seems very greedy.
MrV: I am going to agree with you about that. They were selling the Langoa Barton 1997 at £69 when it retails at about £32. I call that fair. What I love best is about the wine list is that is shows comparisons with prices at Gordon Ramsay, Alain Ducasse and others. It must drive those swanky places quite potty with rage. They were selling a bottle of Chateau D’Yquem 1996 for £109 but pointed out that it costs £330 at Petrus. I should have had some with that delicious salted caramel ice cream.
MrO: This wine pricing thing might just catch on. Restaurateurs are seldom business innovators but history shows that, in general, undercutting has to be matched, as the customers aren’t slow to pick up when they’re paying too much.
MrV: Remember the last chap who did that? Whatsisname who owned Monkey’s on Chelsea Green? Good man. Had a mark-up limit of £20 per bottle, including magnums. Monkeys didn’t last, though.
MrO: Let’s hope Bob Bob Ricard doesn’t go the same way.
Mr Oil and Mr Vinegar consumed two starters, two main courses and one pudding between them, washed down with two vodkas with tonic, two bottles of fine claret and some water and coffee, at a total cost of about £250.
Bob Bob Ricard
1 Upper James Street
London W1F 9DF
+44 (0) 203 145 1000
reservations@bobbobricard.com
www.bobbobricard.com
MrV: I didn’t like those potted shrimps at all. They weren’t how potted shrimps are supposed to be. They were gungy.
MrO: You only have one serious criticism of the whole experience and you choose to lead off on it. That’s not nice. Quite churlish, I’d say.
MrV: Well, I’m particular about my potted shrimps.
MrO: But the rest of it was very good, wasn’t it?
MrV: I like the decor. Most restaurants won’t use booths because it limits the size of groups but they are by far the most pleasant and private way to dine. These ones were rather comfortable, too.
MrO: My starter of venison tartare was very interesting – a little drier than beef steak tartare but none the worse for that. And the main course – the onglet steak – was very good indeed. You don’t see this too often on menus...
MrV: That’s because it is so tough.
MrO: ...because it is a little chewier and more difficult to cook properly than the more popular cuts, but the flavour is superb. It used to be known as the “butcher’s cut” because the butcher would often keep it for himself. Bob Bob Ricard’s chef cooked mine perfectly – just rare enough to stop it getting rubbery.
MrV: I was feeling a little grouchy so I decided to test them with their cheeseburger, and I must confess it was fine. I particularly enjoyed being able to choose between posh cheddar or a Kraft cheese slice, which latter is of course the right thing to put on a burger.
MrO: It is quite an eccentric place, isn’t it?
MrV: Certainly is. What sort of a name is Bob Bob Ricard, anyway? Sounds like a French Teletubby, or perhaps like someone who’s drowned in that foul French aniseed drink.
MrO: It is a silly name – apparently named after the owners – but we are in Soho, after all. Silliness prevails, even to the extent that there is a “press here for champagne” button in each booth.
MrV: I wonder if they are being silly about their wine pricing policy. Putting a cap of £50 on mark-ups may be a dangerous game.
MrO: I love it. It is time someone challenged the system of marking wine up by 300 – 350%. If it’s a bottle that would cost £6 in the supermarket you don’t mind paying £20 because they have the investment, storage and handling costs to cover before they find a profit, but doing the same thing to a £30 bottle of wine seems very greedy.
MrV: I am going to agree with you about that. They were selling the Langoa Barton 1997 at £69 when it retails at about £32. I call that fair. What I love best is about the wine list is that is shows comparisons with prices at Gordon Ramsay, Alain Ducasse and others. It must drive those swanky places quite potty with rage. They were selling a bottle of Chateau D’Yquem 1996 for £109 but pointed out that it costs £330 at Petrus. I should have had some with that delicious salted caramel ice cream.
MrO: This wine pricing thing might just catch on. Restaurateurs are seldom business innovators but history shows that, in general, undercutting has to be matched, as the customers aren’t slow to pick up when they’re paying too much.
MrV: Remember the last chap who did that? Whatsisname who owned Monkey’s on Chelsea Green? Good man. Had a mark-up limit of £20 per bottle, including magnums. Monkeys didn’t last, though.
MrO: Let’s hope Bob Bob Ricard doesn’t go the same way.
Mr Oil and Mr Vinegar consumed two starters, two main courses and one pudding between them, washed down with two vodkas with tonic, two bottles of fine claret and some water and coffee, at a total cost of about £250.
Bob Bob Ricard
1 Upper James Street
London W1F 9DF
+44 (0) 203 145 1000
reservations@bobbobricard.com
www.bobbobricard.com
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
Koffmann's at The Berkeley
Mr Oil and Mr Vinegar and a friend have traversed Hyde Park Corner to visit Pierre Koffmann’s new-ish place under The Berkeley hotel. Even Mr Vinegar is hard-pushed to find reason for complaint...
MrO: That was the happiest I’ve seen you in a restaurant in a long time.
MrV: Extraordinary, wasn’t it? I went there expecting to be a bit disappointed.
MrO: Based on our last experience with Pierre Koffmann at La Tante Claire? That was more than a decade ago.
MrV: I know. But how many top chefs or restaurateurs disappear for years and then make a successful comeback? I can’t think of any.
MrO: There were special circumstances. He’d had a bereavement which affected him terribly, and I think he was very badly advised on the decor at The Berkeley.
MrV: It looked like a funeral parlour – all greys and purples as far as I can recall. That’s the impression it left me with, at least.
MrO: My recollection is pretty similar.
MrV: At the time I thought he should never have moved Tante Claire from the old Royal Hospital Road site to The Berkeley. It lost all its intimacy, which was a big part of its success. And that site seemed blessed – look what has happened to Gordon Ramsay since he took it over.
MrO: Koffmann was one of the early greats, wasn’t he? He was in the same category as the Rouxs, Michele Bourdain and Nico Ladenis – not just because he redefined cooking and restaurants in Britain but also because he trained the next generation – chefs like Tom Aitkens and Eric Chavot.
MrV: Don’t forget that chicken stock promoter Marco Pierre White. For such a famous restaurateur, White has sold a hell of a lot of turkeys. Perhaps he should call his next restaurant The Hearty Gobbler. Koffmann wasn’t overly complimentary about him in one interview where he was naming some of his most famous apprentices. He said: “Marco Pierre White (if you want people like that) – there are some chefs that aren’t interested in being chefs they just want to be on TV.”
MrO: Aren’t we supposed to be reviewing Koffmann’s restaurant?
MrV: I know, but he’s a very wise man. Another thing he said was: “You can still see some beautiful French chefs from time to time but in general the French are a pain in the arse, to be honest.” There’s something wonderful about that: during his years here we have learned from him about cooking and he has learned from us about Frenchmen.
MrO: Anyway, back to the restaurant experience. My black pudding and apple was excellent – a Gascony dish from a peerless Gascon.
MrV: Don’t gush. It’s common. My pigeon pie was very good indeed, all the more so because I shot so many in April and I’ve been wondering what to do with them. Your mate from Italy seemed to like it a lot, too.
MrO: The sirloin steak was perfect and my friend loved the pink lamb rump.
MrV: It had to be the pig’s trotter for me. It is the dish that made him famous, that some other chefs stole and claimed as their own. I had to see if it was as good as ever, and it was. I might add that the prune and Armagnac ice cream afterwards was as good as it gets.
MrO: The lemon tart also got the thumbs up. It’s all a good deal more reasonably priced than I thought it would be.
MrV: In this interview I read, Koffmann said he was now working with much less expensive raw materials than at Tante Claire, and also that he wasn’t interested in chasing Michelin stars. That’s bound to bring prices down. You can get a three-course set meal for £25.50, which is real value.
MrO: The wines weren’t particularly cheap.
MrV: No – that Segla 2002 looked pretty steep at £95 a bottle when you can get it retail for about £25. Still, Knightsbridge rent and rates and the cost of a big cellar account for a good bit of the mark-up. All in all, I’m very impressed.
Mr Oil, Mr Vinegar and their friend from Italy consumed between them one gin and tonic, two vodkas with tonic, three starters, three main courses and two puddings, two bottles of fine claret, three aperitifs plus coffee and mineral water, at a total cost of £441.56.
Koffmann’s at The Berkeley
The Berkeley
Wilton Place
Knightsbridge
London. SW1X 7RL
Tel: +44 (0)20 7235 6000
koffmanns@the-berkeley.co.uk
www.the-berkeley.co.uk/pierre-koffmanns-french-restaurant.aspx
MrO: That was the happiest I’ve seen you in a restaurant in a long time.
MrV: Extraordinary, wasn’t it? I went there expecting to be a bit disappointed.
MrO: Based on our last experience with Pierre Koffmann at La Tante Claire? That was more than a decade ago.
MrV: I know. But how many top chefs or restaurateurs disappear for years and then make a successful comeback? I can’t think of any.
MrO: There were special circumstances. He’d had a bereavement which affected him terribly, and I think he was very badly advised on the decor at The Berkeley.
MrV: It looked like a funeral parlour – all greys and purples as far as I can recall. That’s the impression it left me with, at least.
MrO: My recollection is pretty similar.
MrV: At the time I thought he should never have moved Tante Claire from the old Royal Hospital Road site to The Berkeley. It lost all its intimacy, which was a big part of its success. And that site seemed blessed – look what has happened to Gordon Ramsay since he took it over.
MrO: Koffmann was one of the early greats, wasn’t he? He was in the same category as the Rouxs, Michele Bourdain and Nico Ladenis – not just because he redefined cooking and restaurants in Britain but also because he trained the next generation – chefs like Tom Aitkens and Eric Chavot.
MrV: Don’t forget that chicken stock promoter Marco Pierre White. For such a famous restaurateur, White has sold a hell of a lot of turkeys. Perhaps he should call his next restaurant The Hearty Gobbler. Koffmann wasn’t overly complimentary about him in one interview where he was naming some of his most famous apprentices. He said: “Marco Pierre White (if you want people like that) – there are some chefs that aren’t interested in being chefs they just want to be on TV.”
MrO: Aren’t we supposed to be reviewing Koffmann’s restaurant?
MrV: I know, but he’s a very wise man. Another thing he said was: “You can still see some beautiful French chefs from time to time but in general the French are a pain in the arse, to be honest.” There’s something wonderful about that: during his years here we have learned from him about cooking and he has learned from us about Frenchmen.
MrO: Anyway, back to the restaurant experience. My black pudding and apple was excellent – a Gascony dish from a peerless Gascon.
MrV: Don’t gush. It’s common. My pigeon pie was very good indeed, all the more so because I shot so many in April and I’ve been wondering what to do with them. Your mate from Italy seemed to like it a lot, too.
MrO: The sirloin steak was perfect and my friend loved the pink lamb rump.
MrV: It had to be the pig’s trotter for me. It is the dish that made him famous, that some other chefs stole and claimed as their own. I had to see if it was as good as ever, and it was. I might add that the prune and Armagnac ice cream afterwards was as good as it gets.
MrO: The lemon tart also got the thumbs up. It’s all a good deal more reasonably priced than I thought it would be.
MrV: In this interview I read, Koffmann said he was now working with much less expensive raw materials than at Tante Claire, and also that he wasn’t interested in chasing Michelin stars. That’s bound to bring prices down. You can get a three-course set meal for £25.50, which is real value.
MrO: The wines weren’t particularly cheap.
MrV: No – that Segla 2002 looked pretty steep at £95 a bottle when you can get it retail for about £25. Still, Knightsbridge rent and rates and the cost of a big cellar account for a good bit of the mark-up. All in all, I’m very impressed.
Mr Oil, Mr Vinegar and their friend from Italy consumed between them one gin and tonic, two vodkas with tonic, three starters, three main courses and two puddings, two bottles of fine claret, three aperitifs plus coffee and mineral water, at a total cost of £441.56.
Koffmann’s at The Berkeley
The Berkeley
Wilton Place
Knightsbridge
London. SW1X 7RL
Tel: +44 (0)20 7235 6000
koffmanns@the-berkeley.co.uk
www.the-berkeley.co.uk/pierre-koffmanns-french-restaurant.aspx
Friday, April 1, 2011
Les Ambassadeurs Mayfair
Mr Vinegar has been to Les Ambassadeurs in Mayfair for a business dinner, without Mr Oil. It was not an auspicious occasion.
MrO: So how was Les A? I wish I could have been there.
MrV: No you don’t. I loathe that place now. It was quite the worst service I’ve ever experienced.
MrO: What went wrong?
MrV: I was there with a small group of Italians who as far as I could tell were trying to drum up some British interest in their wines. They’d sent ahead two cases for us to taste. I was there, unpaid, to give them my expert opinion.
MrO: That sounds like a fun dinner.
MrV: It should have been. But the dismal grunts at Les A couldn’t find the wine, then when they did all the white was warm because they hadn’t bothered to store it properly. And the room they put us in, the library, was quite unbearably hot and had no attending staff.
Mr O: So what did you drink?
MrV: Nothing. Nothing at all. For 50 minutes I sat dry as a bone on the inside and soaking with sweat on the outside. None of the Italians seemed to mind and it didn’t occur to them for 40 minutes that I might like a drink to from the bar to keep me going while the Les A morons chilled the proper stuff. Even then, the man who was going to get the drinks got distracted by something else and came back empty-handed.
MrO: What happened next?
MrV: I got up and left, but not before telling the Italians what I thought of their lousy hospitality. I also told the Les A reception girls – the only efficient people I encountered – what a crappy joint they worked for.
Mr Vinegar walked out of Les Ambassadeurs having consumed nothing at all.
Les Ambassadeurs
5 Hamilton Pl
London
W1J 7ED
0044 (0) 207 495 5555
enquiries@lesaclub.com
www.lesaclub.com
MrO: So how was Les A? I wish I could have been there.
MrV: No you don’t. I loathe that place now. It was quite the worst service I’ve ever experienced.
MrO: What went wrong?
MrV: I was there with a small group of Italians who as far as I could tell were trying to drum up some British interest in their wines. They’d sent ahead two cases for us to taste. I was there, unpaid, to give them my expert opinion.
MrO: That sounds like a fun dinner.
MrV: It should have been. But the dismal grunts at Les A couldn’t find the wine, then when they did all the white was warm because they hadn’t bothered to store it properly. And the room they put us in, the library, was quite unbearably hot and had no attending staff.
Mr O: So what did you drink?
MrV: Nothing. Nothing at all. For 50 minutes I sat dry as a bone on the inside and soaking with sweat on the outside. None of the Italians seemed to mind and it didn’t occur to them for 40 minutes that I might like a drink to from the bar to keep me going while the Les A morons chilled the proper stuff. Even then, the man who was going to get the drinks got distracted by something else and came back empty-handed.
MrO: What happened next?
MrV: I got up and left, but not before telling the Italians what I thought of their lousy hospitality. I also told the Les A reception girls – the only efficient people I encountered – what a crappy joint they worked for.
Mr Vinegar walked out of Les Ambassadeurs having consumed nothing at all.
Les Ambassadeurs
5 Hamilton Pl
London
W1J 7ED
0044 (0) 207 495 5555
enquiries@lesaclub.com
www.lesaclub.com
Rowley's St James's
Mr Oil and Mr Vinegar have revisited an old haunt, Rowley’s in St James’s, but found that things were not as they remembered.
MrV: I hope you’re not going to try to say something nice about that place.
MrO: No. Not this time.
MrV: We should have turned around at the door when that dreadful smell hit us.
MrO: It could, I suppose, have been a bit of the herb butter fallen through a crack in the floorboards and gone rancid.
MrV: Or it could have been one of their horrible customers gone off after too much cheap wine. There used to be a better sort of customer at Rowley’s in the old days.
MrO: The worst thing, though, was not the smell but the heat.
MrV: My God it was hot. Every man in there had his coat over the back of his chair. The trouble is that too many restaurants don’t have the gumption to stand up to women who expect to be able to wear flimsy, revealing tops all year round. And we men have to sit and sweat and pretend we don’t mind.
MrO: It’s less of a problem when the owners are the managers because pumping up the heating costs money so they tend not to do it. Employees of the big chains tend not to give a damn about costs like that. I wonder who owns Rowley’s?
MrV: I wouldn’t be at all surprised if it was someone like Cafe Rouge. Anyway, I’m glad we stomped out without even staying for a drink. If the rest of the experience was anything to go by, the food would have been terrible.
Mr Oil and Mr Vinegar paid nothing for their glass of water and left without consuming any other food or drink.
Rowley’s
113 Jermyn St
London
SW1Y 6HJ
0044 (0) 207 930 2707
managers@rowleys.co.uk
www.rowleys.co.uk
MrV: I hope you’re not going to try to say something nice about that place.
MrO: No. Not this time.
MrV: We should have turned around at the door when that dreadful smell hit us.
MrO: It could, I suppose, have been a bit of the herb butter fallen through a crack in the floorboards and gone rancid.
MrV: Or it could have been one of their horrible customers gone off after too much cheap wine. There used to be a better sort of customer at Rowley’s in the old days.
MrO: The worst thing, though, was not the smell but the heat.
MrV: My God it was hot. Every man in there had his coat over the back of his chair. The trouble is that too many restaurants don’t have the gumption to stand up to women who expect to be able to wear flimsy, revealing tops all year round. And we men have to sit and sweat and pretend we don’t mind.
MrO: It’s less of a problem when the owners are the managers because pumping up the heating costs money so they tend not to do it. Employees of the big chains tend not to give a damn about costs like that. I wonder who owns Rowley’s?
MrV: I wouldn’t be at all surprised if it was someone like Cafe Rouge. Anyway, I’m glad we stomped out without even staying for a drink. If the rest of the experience was anything to go by, the food would have been terrible.
Mr Oil and Mr Vinegar paid nothing for their glass of water and left without consuming any other food or drink.
Rowley’s
113 Jermyn St
London
SW1Y 6HJ
0044 (0) 207 930 2707
managers@rowleys.co.uk
www.rowleys.co.uk
Thursday, December 2, 2010
Harry's Bar Mayfair
After a prolonged absence from the dining circuit, caused by the demands of summer holidays followed by the shooting season, Mr Oil and Mr Vinegar have popped back to London for some white truffles at Harry’s Bar.
MrO: There’s nowhere in London, I think, that can source white truffles as well as Harry’s Bar. There used to be Il Fontana in Pimlico...
MrV: Yes it was all right but not quite up to Harry’s Bar standard, and anyway the old boy who ran it so well moved on to the next world years ago.
MrO: And Antonio Carluccio used to specialise in them...
MrV: But all he runs now are his chain of Caffes – ghastly name – which I doubt ever see a truffle from one year to the next.
MrO: Perhaps unfair. But anyway, Harry’s continues to be reliably excellent.
MrV: I worried about this place when Richard Caring bought it from the Birleys after they had their big family bust-up. It looked like a dead cert that the whole Birley empire would be plunged downhill by cost-cutting on the one hand and opening the membership to all Carin’s East End rag trade friends on the other.
MrO: I know what you mean, but he’s actually managed to preserve it all very well. He seems to have quite good judgement.
MrV: With the exception of Annabel’s. That’s a hideous place now. It got worse and worse after Gavin Rankin gave up the management to set up Bellamy’s. Mind you, it’s never been my favourite.
MrO: Isn’t that because you’ve been carried out twice, near unconsciousness, and told never to return, and the members who took you almost thrown out, too? And I don’t think you were popular when you stood on Keanu Reeve’ foot and tried to suggest it was his fault.
MrV: That was all a very long time ago and I’ve been back many times since, but it never improves, just gets worse. All those men from overseas with girls who look like they charge an hourly rate.
MrO: Like lawyers, you mean?
MrV: Very similar in many ways. Actually, most of those girls claim to be studying law in somewhere like Prague.
MrO: You have clearly spoken to them at some length. But we were discussing Harry’s Bar. I wish you’d let me have the scrambled egg with white truffle. I had it once before when you weren’t there and it’s one of the finest starters I’ve ever had.
MrV: Well, I’m sorry but I just can’t abide eggs. They give me the shivers. The idea of eating a recently-discharged ovum is quite the most disgusting thought – the sort of thing only a mad feminist ought to consider - and I can’t have them on the table in front of me.
MrO: I the event, the truffles were pretty good with the scallop carpaccio, but I think they would probably have gone better with the tuna or beef carpaccio.
MrV: That’s what you get for taking a waiter’s advice. Mine on the other hand went perfectly with the linguine.
MrO: Which you ordered on the advice of the waiter.
MrV: You have to pick up every little thing, don’t you?
MrO: I liked the lamb off the trolley. Am I right in thinking you had the same?
MrV: Yes, it was very good. Peculiar, wasn’t it, paying four times for the starter what we paid for the main course?
MrO: Yes, and also rather odd paying more for the food than the wine. Highly unusual in my experience.
Mr Oil and Mr Vinegar had two starters at £120 each, two main courses at about £30 each, and shared a bottle of Barbera at around £50.
Harry’s Bar
26 South Audley Street,
London W1K 2PD
+44 (0) 207 408 0844
www.harrysbar.co.uk
MrO: There’s nowhere in London, I think, that can source white truffles as well as Harry’s Bar. There used to be Il Fontana in Pimlico...
MrV: Yes it was all right but not quite up to Harry’s Bar standard, and anyway the old boy who ran it so well moved on to the next world years ago.
MrO: And Antonio Carluccio used to specialise in them...
MrV: But all he runs now are his chain of Caffes – ghastly name – which I doubt ever see a truffle from one year to the next.
MrO: Perhaps unfair. But anyway, Harry’s continues to be reliably excellent.
MrV: I worried about this place when Richard Caring bought it from the Birleys after they had their big family bust-up. It looked like a dead cert that the whole Birley empire would be plunged downhill by cost-cutting on the one hand and opening the membership to all Carin’s East End rag trade friends on the other.
MrO: I know what you mean, but he’s actually managed to preserve it all very well. He seems to have quite good judgement.
MrV: With the exception of Annabel’s. That’s a hideous place now. It got worse and worse after Gavin Rankin gave up the management to set up Bellamy’s. Mind you, it’s never been my favourite.
MrO: Isn’t that because you’ve been carried out twice, near unconsciousness, and told never to return, and the members who took you almost thrown out, too? And I don’t think you were popular when you stood on Keanu Reeve’ foot and tried to suggest it was his fault.
MrV: That was all a very long time ago and I’ve been back many times since, but it never improves, just gets worse. All those men from overseas with girls who look like they charge an hourly rate.
MrO: Like lawyers, you mean?
MrV: Very similar in many ways. Actually, most of those girls claim to be studying law in somewhere like Prague.
MrO: You have clearly spoken to them at some length. But we were discussing Harry’s Bar. I wish you’d let me have the scrambled egg with white truffle. I had it once before when you weren’t there and it’s one of the finest starters I’ve ever had.
MrV: Well, I’m sorry but I just can’t abide eggs. They give me the shivers. The idea of eating a recently-discharged ovum is quite the most disgusting thought – the sort of thing only a mad feminist ought to consider - and I can’t have them on the table in front of me.
MrO: I the event, the truffles were pretty good with the scallop carpaccio, but I think they would probably have gone better with the tuna or beef carpaccio.
MrV: That’s what you get for taking a waiter’s advice. Mine on the other hand went perfectly with the linguine.
MrO: Which you ordered on the advice of the waiter.
MrV: You have to pick up every little thing, don’t you?
MrO: I liked the lamb off the trolley. Am I right in thinking you had the same?
MrV: Yes, it was very good. Peculiar, wasn’t it, paying four times for the starter what we paid for the main course?
MrO: Yes, and also rather odd paying more for the food than the wine. Highly unusual in my experience.
Mr Oil and Mr Vinegar had two starters at £120 each, two main courses at about £30 each, and shared a bottle of Barbera at around £50.
Harry’s Bar
26 South Audley Street,
London W1K 2PD
+44 (0) 207 408 0844
www.harrysbar.co.uk
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Wilton's, Jermyn Street, St James's
With apologies for the delay since the last review - posted some months ago - which was caused by the demands of a busy shooting season and occasional trips to France, Mr Oil and Mr Vinegar recount their annual trip to Wilton’s for early oysters and grouse.
MrO: How many years have we been doing the oysters and grouse lunch at Wilton’s?
MrV: Too many, I suspect. I hope you’re not going to talk about the same old things.
MrO: No, I was going to chat about the summer in Provence, but as you’ve raised the past it does inspire one or two entertaining memories.
MrV: Oh, God, which ones?
MrO: Well, I was thinking in particular about the time you exposed yourself to all the customers.
MrV: Gaagghh! I thought I’d forgotten that. But I did not expose myself to them all – only a select few.
MrO: Lord King and Lord Saatchi were among them.
MrV: I have no idea if they noticed.
MrO: How refreshingly honest of you – quite unlike your usual boastfulness.
MrV: It was mostly your fault. If you’d remembered to book the table in good time we wouldn’t have been sitting at those low tables at the front, and my lap would have been hidden under a proper table.
MrO: If you’d taken more care of your clothing your flies would not have been wide open. Likewise if you’d been wearing suitable underwear.
MrV: The waiter bears a bit of the blame. He was serving me in the full knowledge that my private parts were in plain view. I could have thumped him when I asked why he’d said nothing and he replied “Because I thought Sir wished it that way.”
MrO: It was funny, though.
MrV: Yes, you laughed like a drain. You seem to delight in the misfortunes of others.
MrO: And you don’t? I recall you going blue in the face with laughter on the day that Bendor Drummond threw the cheese at the Frenchmen in Wilton’s.
MrV: That was different. They were French. Anyway, what made me laugh most was when the Frogs complained to Jimmy Marks [a famous past manager] and he said “That there’s Mr Bendor Drummond, and he’s allowed to throw cheese.
MrO: We seem to have strayed somewhat from the point. What did you think of the oysters this year?
MrV: Excellent.
MrO: And the grouse?
MrV: Wonderful.
MrO: Was my choice of the Chateau Palmer 1990 suitable?
MrV: Eminently.
Mr Oil and Mr Vinegar consumed helpings of oysters and grouse at an estimated combined cost of about £130 and some white wine by the glass at a forgotten price, but washed down with a Chateau Palmer 1990, costing £650.
Wilton's
55 Jermyn street
London SW1Y 6LX
Tel +44 (0) 207 629 9955
www.wiltons.co.uk
MrO: How many years have we been doing the oysters and grouse lunch at Wilton’s?
MrV: Too many, I suspect. I hope you’re not going to talk about the same old things.
MrO: No, I was going to chat about the summer in Provence, but as you’ve raised the past it does inspire one or two entertaining memories.
MrV: Oh, God, which ones?
MrO: Well, I was thinking in particular about the time you exposed yourself to all the customers.
MrV: Gaagghh! I thought I’d forgotten that. But I did not expose myself to them all – only a select few.
MrO: Lord King and Lord Saatchi were among them.
MrV: I have no idea if they noticed.
MrO: How refreshingly honest of you – quite unlike your usual boastfulness.
MrV: It was mostly your fault. If you’d remembered to book the table in good time we wouldn’t have been sitting at those low tables at the front, and my lap would have been hidden under a proper table.
MrO: If you’d taken more care of your clothing your flies would not have been wide open. Likewise if you’d been wearing suitable underwear.
MrV: The waiter bears a bit of the blame. He was serving me in the full knowledge that my private parts were in plain view. I could have thumped him when I asked why he’d said nothing and he replied “Because I thought Sir wished it that way.”
MrO: It was funny, though.
MrV: Yes, you laughed like a drain. You seem to delight in the misfortunes of others.
MrO: And you don’t? I recall you going blue in the face with laughter on the day that Bendor Drummond threw the cheese at the Frenchmen in Wilton’s.
MrV: That was different. They were French. Anyway, what made me laugh most was when the Frogs complained to Jimmy Marks [a famous past manager] and he said “That there’s Mr Bendor Drummond, and he’s allowed to throw cheese.
MrO: We seem to have strayed somewhat from the point. What did you think of the oysters this year?
MrV: Excellent.
MrO: And the grouse?
MrV: Wonderful.
MrO: Was my choice of the Chateau Palmer 1990 suitable?
MrV: Eminently.
Mr Oil and Mr Vinegar consumed helpings of oysters and grouse at an estimated combined cost of about £130 and some white wine by the glass at a forgotten price, but washed down with a Chateau Palmer 1990, costing £650.
Wilton's
55 Jermyn street
London SW1Y 6LX
Tel +44 (0) 207 629 9955
www.wiltons.co.uk
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Dolada, Albermarle Street, Mayfair
Mr Oil and Mr Vinegar have decided to review Dolada in Albermarle Street, Mayfair – a restaurant famed for its high prices. The results are surprising...
MrV: I went in there with my hackles up. Partly because I didn’t much rate it in its former guise, Mosaico. But also, I hate it when I read about how expensive a restaurant is. It makes me determined to dislike the place, because I can’t help feeling the management is taking me for a mug.
MrO: I know exactly what you mean. But how extraordinary it is that no one has noticed what appears to be a sea-change in the pricing.
MrV: Perhaps they were stung by the criticisms. People do bridle when they’re told that the starters are £28 or something silly.
MrO: Or perhaps, bearing in mind the recession, they simply responded to their customers’ requirements, like all good businesses should.
MrV: At any rate, that was one of the best-value lunches I’ve had in Mayfair in a long time. It’s funny how those little roads between Piccadilly and Mayfair sometimes yield real restaurant bargains, particularly at lunchtime. Go a hundred yards north and you’re paying twice as much.
MrO: As soon as I walked into Dolada I loved it. The decor, lighting and furniture are all extremely soothing.
MrV: Full of proper grown-ups too: no flashy young spivs – although there was that young man with a beard, sitting with his parents. If my son ever grows a beard I’ll disinherit him.
MrO: The chairs were very comfortable and the tables were properly spaced so that you could hear other people talking but you couldn’t hear what they were saying.
MrV: And the waitresses are all rather appealing. I don’t know why men bother spending fortunes on consorting with women of the night when all they really want is for a pretty girl to be nice to them, which they can get for the price of a tip after dinner in a decent restaurant.
MrO: I hadn’t ever thought about it like that but you might be right. Anyway, it was a good move going with the Business Lunch...
MrV: Made me feel like a real Man of the People.
MrO: ...which is very good value at £21 for three courses. My bruschetta was very good. The trick with bruschetta is getting the toast crunchy enough, which restaurant kitchens often cannot do.
MrV: My salamis and other cold meats were very good. I particularly liked the pickled turnip or swede or whatever it was – not too vinegary.
MrO: I’m surprised that you don’t like a lot of vinegar, but perhaps your system manufactures so much that you’re in danger of overdosing.
MrV: Aren’t you funny? The spaghetti alle vongole was pretty good. I believe that spaghetti alle vongole is the surpreme test of an Italian restaurant. It’s such a simple dish but apparently one which is very easy to mess up.
MrO: I agree. A disappointing spaghetti alle vongole was what put me off San Lorenzo many years ago.
MrV: I had a distinctly unimpressive one at the River Cafe recently. That place does irritate me – full of grungy left-wing civil servants, design gurus and other crude, unhelpful non-thinkers. And their spaghetti alle vongole had no shells! I like clam shells in my alle vongole. It gives the dish a feeling of authenticity - and looks better, too.
MrO: Yes, well, getting back to Dolada, I thought the ice cream was excellent. Very, very freshly made and the praline flavour was quite fine, as was the coconut.
MrV: That white wine was alright, too. Panizzi Vernaccia is very rich, isn’t it? But pretty good value at £35. The mark-up on the wines is quite fair, even generous, in my view. They’re knocking out a 2004 Tignanello at £140, which is far less than double the retail value. Harrods, for instance, is selling it for £95. We should have tried it. I could happily have spent all afternoon there but you insisted on going back to work.
MrO: It is customary to work after lunch.
MrV: Not for me it isn’t.
Mr Oil and Mr Vinegar ate three courses each and together drank two vodka-and-tonics, a bottle of white wine, two glasses of Chianti, two glasses of limoncello liqueur and four cups of coffee, at a total cost of £158.
Dolada Restaurant
Arcade House
13 Albemarle Street
London
W1S 4HJ
+44 (0) 207 409 1011
manager@dolada.co.uk
www.dolada.co.uk
MrV: I went in there with my hackles up. Partly because I didn’t much rate it in its former guise, Mosaico. But also, I hate it when I read about how expensive a restaurant is. It makes me determined to dislike the place, because I can’t help feeling the management is taking me for a mug.
MrO: I know exactly what you mean. But how extraordinary it is that no one has noticed what appears to be a sea-change in the pricing.
MrV: Perhaps they were stung by the criticisms. People do bridle when they’re told that the starters are £28 or something silly.
MrO: Or perhaps, bearing in mind the recession, they simply responded to their customers’ requirements, like all good businesses should.
MrV: At any rate, that was one of the best-value lunches I’ve had in Mayfair in a long time. It’s funny how those little roads between Piccadilly and Mayfair sometimes yield real restaurant bargains, particularly at lunchtime. Go a hundred yards north and you’re paying twice as much.
MrO: As soon as I walked into Dolada I loved it. The decor, lighting and furniture are all extremely soothing.
MrV: Full of proper grown-ups too: no flashy young spivs – although there was that young man with a beard, sitting with his parents. If my son ever grows a beard I’ll disinherit him.
MrO: The chairs were very comfortable and the tables were properly spaced so that you could hear other people talking but you couldn’t hear what they were saying.
MrV: And the waitresses are all rather appealing. I don’t know why men bother spending fortunes on consorting with women of the night when all they really want is for a pretty girl to be nice to them, which they can get for the price of a tip after dinner in a decent restaurant.
MrO: I hadn’t ever thought about it like that but you might be right. Anyway, it was a good move going with the Business Lunch...
MrV: Made me feel like a real Man of the People.
MrO: ...which is very good value at £21 for three courses. My bruschetta was very good. The trick with bruschetta is getting the toast crunchy enough, which restaurant kitchens often cannot do.
MrV: My salamis and other cold meats were very good. I particularly liked the pickled turnip or swede or whatever it was – not too vinegary.
MrO: I’m surprised that you don’t like a lot of vinegar, but perhaps your system manufactures so much that you’re in danger of overdosing.
MrV: Aren’t you funny? The spaghetti alle vongole was pretty good. I believe that spaghetti alle vongole is the surpreme test of an Italian restaurant. It’s such a simple dish but apparently one which is very easy to mess up.
MrO: I agree. A disappointing spaghetti alle vongole was what put me off San Lorenzo many years ago.
MrV: I had a distinctly unimpressive one at the River Cafe recently. That place does irritate me – full of grungy left-wing civil servants, design gurus and other crude, unhelpful non-thinkers. And their spaghetti alle vongole had no shells! I like clam shells in my alle vongole. It gives the dish a feeling of authenticity - and looks better, too.
MrO: Yes, well, getting back to Dolada, I thought the ice cream was excellent. Very, very freshly made and the praline flavour was quite fine, as was the coconut.
MrV: That white wine was alright, too. Panizzi Vernaccia is very rich, isn’t it? But pretty good value at £35. The mark-up on the wines is quite fair, even generous, in my view. They’re knocking out a 2004 Tignanello at £140, which is far less than double the retail value. Harrods, for instance, is selling it for £95. We should have tried it. I could happily have spent all afternoon there but you insisted on going back to work.
MrO: It is customary to work after lunch.
MrV: Not for me it isn’t.
Mr Oil and Mr Vinegar ate three courses each and together drank two vodka-and-tonics, a bottle of white wine, two glasses of Chianti, two glasses of limoncello liqueur and four cups of coffee, at a total cost of £158.
Dolada Restaurant
Arcade House
13 Albemarle Street
London
W1S 4HJ
+44 (0) 207 409 1011
manager@dolada.co.uk
www.dolada.co.uk
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