GILBERT SCOTT: BY GEORGE?

Much as I’d like to believe that the slew of restaurant openings in London will raise the bar by providing more competition à la New York I fear it has instead diluted a dining scene that is, despite what excitable pundits may tell you, not as wonderful as it likes to think it is. The result has been that sorting the wheat from the chaff has become increasingly difficult and very dispiriting, especially when one's own ackers are involved.

We’ve done a couple of posts in the past about St Pancras and its other restaurant and I assume this is the final piece in the refurb jigsaw: the opening of the hotel, the Renaissance run by Marriott and the Gilbert Scott restaurant run by Marcus Warering.

Dos Hermanos have a bit of a soft spot for St Pancras – it has played a recurring role in our lives, so we’re always interested in anything associated with what is undoubtedly one of the most interesting buildings in London.

First impressions were promising. Despite some uncertain service in the bar I managed to get a Dry Martini that wasn't a complete disaster although when it comes to stemware I'm so over the funny glasses shtick - give me the classic Martini glass every time and historical precedent be damned.

Eventually the smiley servers managed to locate us and guide us to our table. The room has a nice wow factor to it despite being yet another space by David Collins – surely the Paul Ross of restaurant design - maybe because it appeared more tasteful than the usual luxury hotel norm which always brings to mind Miles Kington’s phrase “The best taste that money can buy”. They've jammed in 120 covers though so expect a bit of buffeting if you have a table in the centre.

So great room and good service, both of which are the result of no little effort I assume. Shame then, that things went downhill when it came to the food.

The dishes have a nod towards their origin in their name but it’s all a bit forced and comes over as Heston-lite although mercifully there wasn’t all the tedious historical footnotes that you get with Mr B.

My Asparagus with poached egg, almonds and tarragon was a good idea in search of more accurate cooking. The asparagus tasted fine but were mockingly floppy (oh how they mocked) and the whole was rather greasy. A sprinkling of some sea salt might have perked things up as well. The egg was properly cooked though.

Soles in coffins was aptly named – dismal, if not funereal. Whether it was the freshness or this preparation of a delicate fish that was to blame the result was flesh that was too soft and broke up too easily. The vermouth sauce was gloopy; the taste of the shrimp and mace didn’t come through. Chips were fat and could have done with some colour but at least they were cooked through.

I did note there were a lot of choices on the menu so I just wonder whether those dishes that require better timing may suffer compared to those which are mostly about the pre-prep.

Of the puddings the best was a slightly chewy but tasty Eccles Cake with Ice Cream. Not up to St John standards but still pretty good. Mrs Beeton’s Snow eggs with Everton toffee, peanuts, burnt honey custard sounded more interesting than it tasted, which wasn’t of anything much really.

A Bakewell tart was declared "Exceedingly Good" but I think that was in an deeply ironic sense. Then again it's a dish from Derbyshire so what would someone from the wrong side of the Pennines know about it anyway. Bloody Lancastrians.

Now it could be I was just unlucky with my choices. Certainly, my dining companions (Fish Cake/ Jugged Steak, Mulligatawny/Pigeon in a Pot) seemed happy enough with their dishes. But as I get disappointed on a regular basis I do wonder if there are enough good chefs to go around especially as for a lot of them the slightest whiff of greasepaint and they're off before you can say "Red Tomatoes, Green Peppers". That’s fair enough - people have bills to pay - but what does that leave for Joe Diner?

ST PANCRAS GRAND: KNOW YOUR STATION

HP’s response to the current depressing dining scene in London is pretty straightforward. Whenever I ask him if he fancies trying a new place, his reply is often a succinct

“Why go and spend £X just to confirm what you already know?”

After meals like last week’s at the mediocre Broome & Delancey, it is becoming increasingly hard to argue with logic, but a man has to eat and being of the chirpy, bluebird on shoulder optimistic type, I like to think there is still an opportunity to be surprised even in this moribund city of ours.

I have to admit, however, that I didn’t expect that surprise to come at me from the direction of St Pancras Grand, the new, Searcy’s run gastrodome in London’s recently refurbished Eurostar Station. These are, after all the same people who run that dreadful little champagne bar and the restaurant is located in a building which, while still impressive thanks to its Victorian originators, represents one of the great missed opportunities of modern day London.

It had all the hallmarks of another ho hum experience, the smart but cavernous room was empty bar for one other table, the staff seemed to be distracted by a heated discussion regarding the distribution of their tips and the bread brought to the table as I took a seat was tough and not helped by stale butter.

It rang through my head again

“Why go and spend £X just to confirm what you already know?”

However, the immediate appearance of a charming member of staff with a carafe of tap water (an increasingly welcome trend in the capital) improved matters as did the menu, which is lengthy and unapologetically British. Oysters & Shellfish are on offer along with smoked fish, cold meats and over twenty main courses including everything from Fish Pie, fish & Chips to Braised Beef Ribs with 17th Century Spices and a Lancashire Hot Pot. Prices range from the perfectly acceptable to “F**k me” with soups at £4-6 looking up at 30gms of Sevruga at £75.

Large menus normally alarm me, but given the money Searcy’s have spent on the room and the number of staff front of house, I suspect there is a big enough brigade in the kitchen to cope.

A tempting menu matters nought if the cooking is lousy, and I still had my doubts as my starter of Pickled Herring was presented. But, stone me if it wasn’t actually very good indeed. A thick, meaty fillet of fish, still retaining a bite and served, as it should be with a slice of terrific, dense soda bread. At £4.75 a plate, representing reasonable restaurant value.

The main course too showed that someone knows what they are about. The “Billy” referred to in “Billy’s Lancashire Hot Pot” is Billy Reid the head chef, but, while this was a cheffy twist on the Northern favourite, the taste and texture of the lamb, the correct absence of herbage and the layer of potato, suitably browned to a crisp on top, would have had Billy Clitheroe nodding in approval even if the portion size and price (a whopping £14.75) would have made him throw his balm cake out of the pram. At twice the size and with more lamb this could almost be a “must try” dish in London as it was it was still a sign of a decent kitchen.

I am eating out again tonight, so pudding offerings of Rice Pudding, Lemon Syllabub and Sherry Trifle (at £6.50 each) were turned down and I collected a bill of £22 including an added service charge of 12.5%.

While this represents the very budget end of St Pancras Grand’s menu and the bill would certainly build up if you added sides at £3.25 a pop, the quality of what was put in front of me reassures me that it might be worth spending more money here. Who knows, it might even end up becoming a destination place rather than a place for people going to other destinations.

But, then again, what do I know?

ST PANCRAS STATION

What a beautiful world this will be
What a glorious time to be free

St Pancras Station has a special place in the collective DH heart. For a large part of our childhood we lived in South Yorkshire, our Grandparents and later on our work and life were located in London so the return journey from Sheffield East Midlands station to St Pancras was, and still is, a regular occurrence for us. Built higher and bigger its neighbour Kings Cross there was always a great sense of occasion arriving or departing here although the circumstances meant they weren't always the best of times.

So now the once grimy station has had a lick of paint and is now open for business to the Continent and beyond. A shame then that it’s all a bit crap. I expected the much hyped 95m Champagne bar to be just that: 95m of bar with people serving along its length and groaning platters of Britain’s finest Oysters on display. Instead we get a something reminiscent of an AMT coffee bar and a queue to have a drink. Whether this was down to Searcy’s who have the contract or the architects I don’t know but it’s disappointing. Talking of Searcy’s they’re ok just about but I’m sure we could have done a bit better with a Caprice or Corney and Barrow.

Downstairs things are not much better. Much like a BAA-run airport the space is just seen as a great fat retailing opportunity so we get M&S, Paperchase and WHS (Wooo- Hooo!) and many more. Of course the idea to locate the Eurostar terminal here after establishing it in Waterloo was also a decision made for financial reasons above all others so we shouldn’t really be surprised .

Oft-made comparisons with the magnificent Grand Central Station are of course risible but if you can ignore the tacky retail opportunities, the stupid statues and that Champagne bar then just look up take in the awesome sight of Barlow's shed, once the largest enclosed space in the world and realise that it was so nearly another Euston. And for that we must all be grateful (well, that and the fact that the trains go nowhere near the Northwest).