LAUNCESTON PLACE: A LUNCHTIME BARGAIN

Quite often, I receive e-mails from friends asking me to recommend the ‘best bargain” in London and, just as often, I receive a quizzical reply to my response that it is lunch at Le Gavroche, one of London’s oldest temples to fine dining, rather than one of our ethnic eateries.

It may seem odd to recommend a meal costing just shy of £50 as a “bargain” but it truly is one of the best opportunities to experience one of the great restaurants, with that price covering everything from the moment you enter the door to the moment you leave filled with three courses of wonderful cooking and cosseted by the legendary service.

The set lunch at high-end restaurants is one of London’s undiscovered treasures and also a way to secure a spot at some of the hardest to book tables in town. So, when my good chum, Nick asked me to suggest a place for lunch, my thoughts turned to Launceston Place, recommended to me by a number of people for its daytime menu of three courses for £18.

The restaurant itself needed no introduction. During my years at Penguin Books, it was an all too regular haunt when schmoozing clients. The food was “polite” as HP calls it, rather than memorable and service was charming and discreet, which it needed to be given that Princess Diana was regularly to be seen pushing her food around the plate while dining in the company of an elderly Lady In Waiting.

That was in the 90’s and less than a year ago, this now tired old restaurant was rescued by the D&D group (Conran to you and me) its room given a sparkly new makeover and the kitchen put in the control of former Petrus wunderkind, Tristan Welch.

Nick, being a man who actually has to work for a living, was running a bit late, so I occupied myself in the small bar area with a couple of newspapers, a glass of wine and more than one helping of some terrific onion crisps with a cheddar cheese dip. By the time Nick finally burst through the door looking flustered and apologetic, it was almost 2.30pm and fast approaching the end of service. If this put the staff out one little bit, they did not show it and we were given a lovely table in a room that shows where every penny has been spent.

The lunch offers three choices in each course and our amuse appeared quickly in the form of a small cup of delicious celeriac soup with slivered almonds and hazelnut oil. Just good enough to overcome my strong dislike little cups of something as an amuse.

Our first courses appeared a little too quickly particularly when one of them was a Spider Crab risotto, but first tastes of both that and a Cobb Chicken Terrine showed that this was a very able kitchen. The terrine was served at the perfect temperature and, like all good examples should, had a variety of textures and perfect seasoning. A little slick of slow poached egg yolk added a touch of richness to the dish. The risotto had the deep flavour that only comes from a great stock and the little slick of herby garlic butter on top added an extra burst on the tongue.

Main courses too, were exemplary. My own slivers of smoked bacon fell apart to the touch and although the accompanying braised onions were covered in a sauce that shows a youthful love of foams and fancies, the overall dish was a perfect combination of Autumn flavours. Nick’s choice of Venison casserole too showed a good seasonal touch. Nick stalks deer himself and can gralloch them to boot, so his sucking the bone clean of meat and marrow spoke volumes about the enjoyment of his choice.

By now, the restaurant was empty but for us and still the staff remained unflustered as we sat in the declining Sunlight through the window and finished our glasses of a slightly undistinguished Qupe Syrah. a light pre-dessert of caramel crème topped with little nuggets of bonfire night toffee came as we waited for our shared dessert, a Tarte Tatin. What was presented was as pleasing example as you are likely to find in London with a slightly chewy caramel topping, apples; sharp, soft but still holding their shape and a crispy, flaky pastry base. Nick, who spends enviable chunks of his time in France, declared it as good as he encounters there.

By the time the staff finally lost patience and suggested we move to the bar as we lingered over cups of tea, it was time to get the bill anyway and Nick, being Nick picked up the tab. Without the wine, our bill would have come to about £25 a head including service. A veritable bargain for three courses, amuse and pre-dessert of very good cooking indeed and served with charm.

It may just be that Le Gavroche has some competition next time someone asks me to recommend the best bargain lunch in the capital.

MIN JIANG

Chinese music under banyan trees
Here at the dude ranch above the sea

Where can you go for a quiet cocktail and a decent meal in relaxing surroundings ? Most places these days seem to major in buzzy atmospheres which usually means tables packed too close together, oppressive sound systems and frenetic service. So I was pleasantly surprised ten minutes into our visit to Min Jiang, a new restaurant in the Royal Garden Hotel in Kensington.

There had been smiles all round on our arrival, nice comfy chairs for our ample arses and a (distant) view of the bright lights of London. There was some music of the jazz noodling variety playing quietly in the background, a big bowl of nuts and a couple of not-girly-at-all cocktails in hand: Oriental Mojito for me, Mai Tai for HS. Best of all, there were no young people to annoy us.

As well as being a teenager-free zone Min Jiang also has a Malaysian chef, Lan Chee Vooi, turning out rather good Chinese food and their speciality, Beijing Duck, is what we were there for.

The main course descriptions were either admirably straightforward or annoyingly prosaic depending on one’s point of view. We tended toward the latter especially as the prices were a bit scary for these uncertain times. As it turns out the quality of cooking was so good we would have been more than fine so maybe on a future visit…

Appetisers were very good exhibiting a sure hand with the old deep fryer (or presumably wok). Salt and Pepper Squid, Soft Shell Crab with Fish Floss and Xiao Long Bao filled with a superior stock were exemplary if a bit familiar from Asian menus everywhere.

Much more surprising, in a good way, was the Crispy Eel in a Butter and Vinegar sauce. When it arrived HS thought it looked like some weird deconstructed Toffee Apple. He wasn’t totally off the mark as the bits of eel had been cooked in caramel and honey. In the mouth you first got the tang of the buttery, vinegar sauce then the slightly sweet, crunchiness of the coating followed by the fishiness of the eel. Great stuff.

Daffy is served here in two courses, the first as a filling for pancakes and the second as a stir fry. HS for whom a lot of ducks went to ducky heaven during his visit to China tells me there is usually an unadvertised third course as well: a soup for the staff made from the carcass.

There was actually another first course - 1a, if you will. Some of the skin from the duck’s neck is served with some sugar to dip it in. Apparently, back in the day, the women folk usually got the skin so they had to make it more palatable. You have to eat it while hot so the sugar melts a bit. Sweet and savoury combinations are seldom a bad thing and this was a good start.

The nice man then showed us how to make a little duck pancake roll which of course us cack-handed Westerners couldn’t really emulate and ended up making a bit of a, er, pig’s ear of. As well as the standard accompaniments of plum sauce, shredded leeks and cucumber the restaurant has also come up with their own take of garlic, cabbage and radish which worked well.
Pancakes were ethereally light and the duck was, predictably, excellent: moist and not too fatty. The little parcels were soon finished off and we engaged in battling chopsticks for the last slivers of the bird.

For our second serving the duck had been shredded and stir-fried with pepper. Although, the end result was not particularly picturesque this dish was if anything even better than the preceding one. The chef had managed the difficult knack of layering the flavours in the dish ending up with a good peppery hit.

There were smiles all round on our departure (of course there were) not least on our faces. There may even have been a spring in our step which given the number of pancakes we ate would have been pretty miraculous. A grim ride on the Piccadilly Line lay ahead but for just a couple of hours we had been cocooned away from the credit crunch, bankruptcy and merchant banker sob-stories.

WHOLE FOODS

WHOLE FOODS: A WHOLE LOT O’ NUTIN’
As in so many things, whither goest The good ol’ US of Stateside so goest Blighty.

It is no surprise then, that yesterday, the squealing hordes descended upon the first UK branch of Wholefoods, the uber chain which has transformed US food retailing and whose appearances in NYC were greeted like the second coming.

I quite like pottering around the Whole Foods in Manhattan ( three of them that I have visited, I think). The displays are pretty spectacular and the range of goods on offer, impressive . I rarely buy anything there, mind you as the queues, even once the novelty of the store opening wears off, are truly hateful and who has time to stand in line for an hour to buy a smoothie, even if you are a brit and queuing counts as leisure time?

The opening of the first European branch of Whole foods in the former Barker’s site in Kensington has been greeted with equal brouhaha and, when I wandered in with my chum, Petra, at about 5pm, the place was mobbed and the queues were already beginning to test the patience of customers.

Like their US counterparts, the product range in the new branch is very extensive and, as a place to buy interesting brands and unusual items, it is certainly worth a visit. No more so, on first glance admittedly, than a well stocked Waitrose

However, also like its US counterparts, the fresh food is a real triumph of style over substance. Well displayed fish had a mat sheen and dull eyes that would never pass muster in Steve Hatt and the meat displays were very limited in choices and cuts with bright red beef alongside a limited choice of pork and lamb joints and far too many of those pre-prepared marinated this and stuffed that for the lazy cook.

A Pies & Pasties area was disappointingly empty with less stock than the counter at Selfridges and even though they had the Joselito Bellota on sale, it was being hacked at by a staff member with all the skill of a navvy. All for £16.50 for 100gms which is about a quid more than Brindisa, I think,

Upstairs in the “restaurant” area there was little more to persuade me that it would be worth travelling across town to come here on anything other than an irregular basis. Tired looking pastries, dried out pizza, a faux tapa joint, a small beer selection and gelato that was, for £1.79 a scoop, greasy and no better than supermarket premium range.

It will be colossally popular in the UK, of course where enthusiasm for food still outstrips knowledge, and, as I read one of the evening free sheets, I saw the first of what will be many vox pops squeaking about how fabulous it is and how it will change the shape of food retailing in the UK.

The latter may well be true, the former certainly is not, on a first hurried visit, at least. As Petra, quite rightly, put it " on a macro level it is extraordinary, but it doesn't hold up to micro examination" It is more a triumph of logistics than one of excellence in food.

And, be warned folks, those queues are never going to go away. Take a sleeping bag if you are popping in for a bag of sugar.