ST JOHN HOTEL: THE ORIGINATOR

There's a pleasing circularity about the opening of this latest branch of St John, a hotel and restaurant in the heart of London's Chinatown, which only occurred to me as I was having a less than satisfying second starter (restaurants, eh?) there: I was eating only a short hop away from Polpetto which occupies what had once been the French House Dining Room AKA St John Mk1.

In the seventeen or so years since the mothership proper opened in Clerkenwell there have been many imitators - the "School of St John" as HS has coined it - which have developed the idea of a few primo ingredients, simply prepared and arranged just so but few have had the chutzpah of the original to leave things as they are. Like that old stalwart Manzi's, the fish restaurant (and sometimes hotel) which occupied this site five years ago, StJ has remained pretty immune to the fads and fashions of the London dining scene.

Walking into the new joint the other day gave me a little frisson of recognition. the clean, white room which always reminds me of a secure facility, where you half expect to see R.P McMurphy (waiters as orderlies); here, the terse menu; there, the small glass tumblers and the smiley, efficient service.  All present and correct.  

And The food? Well they don’t call Fergus Henderson the Mies van der Rohe of the restaurant world for nothing (actually they don’t - I just made that bit up). So there are dishes where the use of white space on the plate is as important as the food. Ok, so the portions are not the most generous around but you get the point (that the plating is part of the shtick).
 
I liked my first starter of Veal Tongue very much.  It had that effortless quality you might get in a plate of food on the continent but seldom find here. Some waxy potatoes, watercress and a mustardy dressing enlivened by capers were mixed with the slices of tongue. It was a little underseasoned for my tastes but that seems to be the modern way - I like things pushed a little in this department.

The dreaded portion control was in the house in a second starter. The pressed Pig’s Head - a variation on the brawn theme - was rather good but there was so little of it that it was more like a seasoning than the main element.  C'mon St J, is your bottom line really going to be compromised by serving up a couple more slices?  Hmmm? The flavours of the rest of the assembly may also have come through more clearly with less dressing.

A main course of Pigeon was better and almost an exemplar of the StJ philosophy. A couple of leg joints had been cooked to rare and were of excellent quality.  There’s no indication of the provenance here - you just take it for granted that the raw ingredients will be very good. The innards had been mashed up and spread on fried bread. They didn’t have a particularly gamey hit, but they weren’t awful. The bitterness of the turnips worked well with the rich bird but I could have done with less liquid sloshing around. Not very St.John.

Desserts have always been a major strength of the kitchen. One was a vibrantly coloured (and tasting) Blood Orange Jelly served with  some segments of that fruit, a blob of preternaturally rich and thick Jersey Cream and the shortest and crumbliest of shortbread biscuits.  The second an oh-so-boozy Marc ice cream, sweetened by the addition of Sultanas and accompanied by a glossy sablé biscuit.

Some decent coffee tailended the meal but at £15 a shot La Vieille Prune was a bit de trop for this diner.

Obviously, this style of food won’t be for everybody - sometimes you just need a bit more of yer actual cooking going on, especially at the prices charged - but if you're in the mood for a bit of minimalism or you want to know where it all started then the St John Hotel will pretty much do the job.  It did for me anyway.

SPUNTINO: ‘ERE LOVE, FANCY A QUICK SLIDER?

Of all the London restaurants I’ve visited, I find the interiors of Russell Norman’s mini-chain the most interesting. He seems to have a knack for sniffing out rooms that once done up just feel and look so right – something that takes a good eye for detail and no little effort I imagine.

The Soho locations of his joints are pretty unique as well: a little 18th century bacaro on Beak St; a bijoux boîte above The French and now, a discarded G-string’s throw away from the old Raymond Revuebar, comes Spuntino, a small-plate operation styled after the sort of places you might find in say Greenwich Village or Williamsburg in Brooklyn.

In common with sister restaurants Polpo and Polpetto the keyword at Spuntino is conviviality - from the friendly staff behind the large bar, the old-school Country music and R&B on the PA, to the eclectic neo-diner food, the sense of fun and informality is palpable. You can sit where you want, stay as long as you want (there’s no bookings) and order anything you want, any which way.

Start off with free popcorn served in enamel coffee mugs (also doubling up as receptacles for the strong filter coffee which will tail end your meal) or some spiced nuts – although these could do with kicking up a notch or two - but even better with terrific fat green olives which have been stuffed with a sort of Ital trifecta of Parmesan, Anchovy, Sage then deep-fried. As addictive (and enjoyable) I suspect as slapping Giles Coren repeatedly about the chops.

House Pickles had a pleasing crunch but weren’t over assertive or acidic: a good foil to the richer items elsewhere on the menu. Transparent slices of Lardo were draped over grilled bread and served with caperberries.

Comped bowls of crisp aubergine frites with a fennel-spiced dip showed that at Spuntino even vegetarians get to join in the fun the same as us normal folk.

Soft-shell crab which didn't impress at Polpetto (soggy batter) was aced here. It came in a light, greaseless, tempura-like carapace with another perky dip this time a Tabasco aioli.

Sliders - a sort of fun-sized burger - come in three varieties. I liked my Beef and Bone Marrow variety which came medium rare although the texture of the meat seemed a tad over-processed. A good meaty mouthful though.

The more carbaliscious dishes didn’t quite rock my world (but obviously they did enough for me to scoff them all). Truffled Egg Toast suggested some variation on a eggy-bread theme but the gloriously messy topping gave way to a thick wodge of bread which even with my greedy-guts appetite I found hard-going.

Zucchini, Mint and Chilli pizzetta was pretty as a picture but tasted dry and the slightly chewy dough didn’t impress as much as similar ones I’d eaten at Polpo and Polpetto. The impact of a big bowl of shoestring fries was diminished by them being a bit limp.

To finish, a PB&J sandwich while intriguing would have just been de trop (with age comes much wisdom, grasshopper) but I didn’t feel like I was missing out with a combo of waffer-thin slices of pineapple with a Liquorice Ice Cream of great taste and texture.

Service from the hip young gunslingers behind the counter was cheerfully efficient - nice to see people who appear to actually enjoy their work - and despite the booze list majoring in Bourbon, they actually popped out to find me some Grappa to finish off my meal. A very nice touch.

Honestly, in the currently moribund London dining scene somewhere like Spuntino is a breath of fresh air. It’s not perfect (where is?) but the brio with which the whole operation is executed won me over. Go there, eat too much, drink too much, have fun and leave the nice staff a big tip.

WRIGHT BROTHER SOHO: RETURN OF THE NATIVE

Autumn is clearly the best time for anyone with even the slightest interest in food. Short days and bad weather means no going outside for me (I might catch a chill) unless it’s to visit the pub or a restaurant. It also means Game, Big Sunday Roasts and most importantly the Native Oyster season.

For me Oysters are up there with Jamón Ibérico as one of the great foodstuffs of the World and the Native variety one of the best you can get anywhere.

Until fairly recently it was difficult to satisfy a sudden urge to down a dozen on the half-shell with a beer or glass of crisp Muscadet. Now we have a number of places in the capital where you can pop in sans reservation and indulge oneself although in my view it’s still not nearly enough.

At the more tony end of the Oyster bar spectrum there are places like the estimable Bentley’s, J Sheekey’s and Scott’s. A little more casual is Wright Brothers who just happen to supply most, but not all, of the restaurants in London with bivalves. In addition to their Borough Market bar they’ve now opened a branch just off Carnaby Street in London’s bustling West End.

It’s a little hidden away inside Kingly Court although frustratingly you can see in from Kingly Street but can’t enter from there. Let’s hope this doesn’t limit foot traffic.

The original restaurant gets horribly crowded, especially towards the end of the week so it was nice to see the new place had a lot more room. There’s a small area just by the entrance where you can walk in and plonk yourself at a table or at the bar. Further back there’s a slightly bigger more conventional space with tables. All the action though is in the basement where you can watch your Oysters get shucked or watch your food get cooked. It does get a little hot down there so beware.

When you’re jonesing for Oysters the only difficult decision will be when to stop eating them. In my case it was after a couple of mixed platters of Natives and some extra Kumamotos. Speaking of which I’ve only ever seen this variety in the US before now but Wright Brothers import the sprats from Japan and cultivate them over here. They’re small but have a wonderful briny taste with a length that goes on and on. Of the other two varieties I tried I marginally preferred the Colchester’s to the Duchy’s but, you know, they’re all good.

In addition to the Oysters there’s a rather magnificent looking Fruits de Mer with the components available separately and some simple short order dishes along with a few daily specials.

My Razor Clams came pre-cooked and cold and though fresh there’s not really a point to these blighters unless grilled with plenty of garlic and olive oil or maybe made into a cerviche.

Whitebait and Squid were much better: accurately deep-fried and served whilst still piping hot and crisp. A tartare sauce with the fish could have been a little looser in texture but was still a decent, perky accompaniment. The other stuff going out looked pretty good too but for me it’s always going to be about the Oysters.

For afters I liked the sound of a Gelupo Lemon Sorbet but as the shop itself is only five minutes away it seemed a shame not to visit the mothership.

That’s the nice thing about the West End these days - as there is a critical mass of decent places to eat you can indulge in a bit of progressive dining. Indeed the very next day I was back at the bar of Wright Brothers with some friends, knocking back Kumamotos and copitas of Manzanilla as a prelude to a visit to Bob Bob Ricard for Vintage Champagne.

Hey, it’s Dos Hermanos’ World – I just live in it.

GAUTHIER: SUPER SCRAN, SOHO

I don’t like Tasting Menus. They can be bloody hard work for a start - like enduring a long car journey when you're young, you find yourself thinking "are we there yet?". The saucing can be so rich that you're stuffed by the second course when you still have ten more to go. There's usually no choice so like a film soundtrack you have to endure a few clunkers before you get to the good stuff. And there's never enough of the good stuff. And so on and on - just like a tasting menu in fact.

So how come I've eaten three tasting menus in as many weeks? Well, the first two were in restaurants where there isn't any other choice. Both Viajante (in Bethnal Green) and Coi (in San Francisco) serve food that you're not going to come across too often and were both very enjoyable in their own way. More of Coi in a later post.

My third was at the newly opened Gauthier in Soho. Located in The Lindsay House (previous tenant: Richard Corrigan), the chef-patron is Alexis Gauthier who also runs Roussillon in Pimlico. The only times we've visited Roussillon we were pretty underwhelmed with the food so I wasn't particularly looking forward to my visit. I'd seen the menu ahead of my res and though it looked interesting but I still wasn't convinced.

The place has had a lick of paint since its previous occupant and the dining room (one of two) I was in was a light and pleasant space in contrast to the dark and gloomy rooms I’m usually to be found in. Quiet to begin with it soon filled up with Wine Merchants, PRs and diners who frequented Roussillon.

I thought my initial misgivings about the food were justified when I took a bite of one of my canapés, a chickpea "stick" which was a bit heavy and doughy - not great. I took a bite of another little amuse, this time one with a dice of langoustine and thereafter my meal followed an upward arc.

Although there’s a proper tasting menu I decided to construct my own from the list of small plates. These start off with the lighter, veggie-based dishes and get more protein orientated as you work through the list.

I always used to wonder how ex-restaurant critic Jonathon Meades managed to have a view on so many dishes on a restaurant’s menu. This was explained when a friend mentioned they’d seen him in a restaurant and basically he just ordered everything on the menu. Even when dining toute seul.

I was tempted to do the same to see how far I could get through a very attractive menu but I fancy living for a few more years yet before I have my Grand Bouffe moment so I contented myself with six ‘plats’ leaving some room for pud.

In the end it wasn’t a problem because M. Gauthier’s cooking has such a light touch that I never felt at all bloated during the meal. Even more surprising given the fact that like all French gaffs they’ll keep bringing you bread until you make like Mr Creosote. And very nice bread it was too with the bacon (mmmm...bacon) variety seeing most of the action.

As well as that light touch the cooking is also characterised by decent ingredients so a starter of Asparagus actually tasted of that vegetable.

Beautifully crimson Pigeon Breast was served slightly tiede and cleverly matched with Lobster. Wild Garlic in the risotto didn’t really come through and it was a tad salty but it was still a good risotto, the grains of rice retaining the right amount of ‘bite’ and the whole being soupy enough.

A small fillet of expertly cooked Red Mullet came with some Baby Squid and with their accompanying pieces of fennel and confited tomatoes was like a taste of the Meditteranean in minature.

The definition of the word savoury (or umami as is currently in vogue) would have a picture of my Veal Sweetbreads with Morels next to it. It delivered a huge hit of, well, whatever you want to cal it. But not so much that subtle favour of the golden glands was masked.

The Beef dish was the culinary climax. Combining the meat with olives is not an original idea but it’s still a good one and the chemistry between the rare beef, and the bitter elements of the olives and chard worked fantastically well. The marrow was the er, icing on the beef.

This could be a pretty full-on dish for some but I was still pondering upon another savoury dish after I’d finished it. So either portions were very small or I’m just a glutton. Ok, probably the latter.

After that little lot the desserts paled a little. I found my Duck Egg Soufflé a tad underpowered although this was probably not such a bad thing. I like my Ice Creams though, especially as they came on top of a refreshing pineapple granita.

After some PFs and a couple of Marshmallows staff had to administer emergency Espresso and Eaux-de-vie to stop me exploding. Thankfully, there were no waffr-thin mints.

Service at the start of the meal was a little hesitant but got better as the dining room filled up and they didn't miss a trick although I didn't get my little pre-dessert (boo). The meal was well paced too although inevitably, given the number of dishes I’d ordered, I was there for over three hours.

Wines by the glass were great value and actually appeared to have been chosen to complement the individual dishes. It isn’t always like this, you know.

Apparently there was a brief soft-opening for the resutaurant but if my visit was anything to go by M.Gauthier has hit the ground running. I don’t like Tasting Menus? I love them.