Tag Archives: Restaurant review

The Fountain Restaurant, Fortnum & Mason

by Qin Xie | Leave a comment

Published on The Arbuturian on 22nd March 2011:

“You must not,” Jonesy tells me sternly, in a manner befitting a school headteacher, “talk about the food. Under any circumstances.”

And like a naughty school girl, I defiantly enquired: “What, then, should I be talking about in a restaurant review? Surely food plays a major part?”

“Talk about the history.”

“Ah yes. As an English institution, Fortnum & Mason certainly has a wealth of history for me to explore. Like when William Fortnum moved into Hugh Mason’s house with his family in 1707, and thereby facilitated their meeting and future partnership. Or perhaps when Fortnum began to amass a small fortune from sales of reconstituted candles that later funded the first Fortnum & Mason store. Or even all those times when Fortnum & Mason first introduced new products to the British public, products which later became staples, like the humble baked bean.

But alas, I’m no Andrew Roberts and waxing lyrical about history just isn’t my bag. Besides, the Fortnum & Mason website does it perfectly well so there’s really no need for a fool like me to stumble over the facts.”

“Talk about cashmere and pearls then.”

“Nothing to talk about there. While it is true that guests are encouraged to ‘lean more towards ‘elegance’, but that doesn’t surely mean I have to dig out those pearls and make like my mother? Charlotte and I mused over the dilemma of cashmere and pearls. Naturally we wouldn’t want to appear out of place amongst the well-heeled crowd. And going Stepford could almost be exciting, if you really enjoy irony. But it was fashion week and anything short of ‘this season’ with a dash of opulence just simply won’t do. So in the end, fur and Tiffany’s won out over cashmere and pearls.”

“Fine, talk about the jazz.”

“Indeed, we were at The Fountain to enjoy a jazz brunch so I suppose the jazz bit is rather important. And pleasant it was too in that quintessentially British way that gets you saying quaint a rather lot.

Two smartly dressed gentleman sat to one side of the restaurant and played a gentle lull, creating a very soothing backdrop to the conversation. You almost don’t notice that they’re there, except when they stop playing.

At first you won’t even realise it. Then slowly but surely, the feeling that something has gone amiss will creep up on you. You can’t quite put your finger on it but you know it’s there. Your breath becomes shallower, faster, and there’s an increasing sense of anxiety in the air.

But then they start up again and as if a dream upon waking, all dark clouds disperse and you are reunited with that sense of well being. So you sort of carry on like nothing has happened and continue tucking into your food.”

“Oh, there you go talking about the food again.”

“But, Jonesy, food is what I know. Surely people would be desperate to learn about the precise degree of piquancy of the steak tartare? Oh, how that yellow yolk exploded over it when I dug in – it was a moment of pure delight. And the sourdough toast was just the sort of equipment you needed to mop up any excess juices. Of course then there’s the scrambled eggs on toast that came up top as Charlotte’s eggy breakfast of the week.

Jonesy, wouldn’t you much rather hear about the rich, moistness of the chocolate cake with a filling akin to luxurious ganache? Okay, that one was strictly speaking off the menu until 3pm when Afternoon Tea is served. But the sticky toffee pudding I had was every bit its match…”

All that not talking about food has left me quite ravenous. I think some tea and cake is called for before I continue with this imaginary conversation about the review I should be writing. Or perhaps this conversation makes the perfect antidote to my usual lengthy explorations of food because, aside from the Jonesy bits, all other observations are factual. But wouldn’t you much rather me dote more on the sauce for that sticky toffee pudding?

The Fountain Restaurant at Fortnum & Mason, 181 Piccadilly, London W1A 1ER. Tel. 0845 602 5694. Website.

For art lovers – The Royal Academy

by Qin Xie | Leave a comment

Published on The Times website on 10th March 2011:

The new restaurant at the Royal Academy is an art lovers’ delight with  golden-lit sculptures at the heart of the room and plush red armchairs in  contrast to the slate floor. It’s very chic, very Parisian. The nuances of  texture and colour are also reflected in the afternoon teas. “The Joshua” offers a choice of cold-cuts including fine-grained wild boar mortadella and  country terrine, salami and dry cured ham. “The Royal”, meanwhile, offers  fresh Mersea Island oysters, sea bass carpaccio, cured salmon and prawn  cocktail. For those in search of tradition, “The Classic” has a daily  changing assortment of finger sandwiches. Chocolate cake, banoffee tart and  mini scones accompany all three on a three-tiered stand, with Cornish  clotted cream, Peyton and Byrne jam and a berry trifle to the side. Let’s  not forget the tea – with 15 black, green, white and herbal blends on offer,  there’s plenty to choose from.

Royal Academy of Arts, Burlington House, Piccadilly, London W1J 0BD; tel.  0207 300 5608; www.royalacademy.org.uk.  The Classic, Joshua and Royal Afternoon Teas are available from 3pm – 5.30pm  daily at £16.50, £19.50, and £25 respectively. There is the option of  upgrading with either prosecco (Manzanilla for Joshua) or champagne.

Trinity, Clapham

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Published on Foodepedia on 21st September 2010:

4 The Polygon, Clapham, London, SW4 0JG www.trinityrestaurant.co.uk

Trinity is the second Clapham restaurant of chef patron Adam Byatt, with the first being the now defunct Thyme, and it works very hard to amalgamate fine dining with its friendly neighbourhood restaurant ethos. From the outset, there’s the unassuming entrance. Soft lighting gently framed the windows with only a small discreet plaque revealing the restaurant within, Trinity. Facing a disused building, it manages to be in the centre of Clapham Common and yet at the same time sneakily tucked away, giving diners accessibility and an incredible sense of privacy.

Mondays are traditionally very quiet for restaurants. For Trinity, this meant a merry-go-round of taxis stopping to set down groups of eager diners. Their a la carte, tasting and prix fixe menus offer extensive choice without pricing out the average visitor.

Pigs trotters made an interesting starter for me and my companion had the poached Loch Duart salmon. Trotters may be unusual but getting the entire dish served on a block of wood was definitely unexpected. Finely diced meat from the trotters were served on a slice of toasted sourdough with a single stick of crackling balanced delicately on top. Sauce Gribiche decorated the base and three perfectly fried quail’s eggs, centre still runny, framed the block. It seemed like a lot for a starter but somehow managed to remain light enough to make a pleasing appetiser. Suffice to say that it tasted as good as it was scrupulously presented.

A fillet of slow cooked Dexter beef served with artichokes, triple cooked chips and steak tartar made a deliciously filling main, the kind that makes it hard not to quip about a match made in meat heaven. Aside from being a demonstration of the skill and effort required to produce the dish, the taste and texture also perfectly reflected the quality of the ingredients used. For my companion, there was a slight quibble about the bones in his lemon sole and seeds in his Muscat grapes. It seems that having to work hard for the pleasure of tasting something wonderful was just a bit too vexing.

There was a good selection of desserts to round off the meal as well as the option for a cheese course. All the courses were accompanied by beautifully matched wines, a highly recommended and thoroughly pleasurable addition to the meal. My companion raved so much about his dessert wine I’m not even sure he finished his dessert, although I’m quite certain it tasted divine if my raspberry ripple souffle was anything to go by.

Overall the food was excellent, as expected, and meticulously prepared. The restaurant was run with military efficiency and impeccable attention to detail in every step from taking of the coats to seating at the table to a refreshing Bellini and welcoming flat bread. The staff were friendly, helpful and unobtrusive; effortlessly creating the relaxed atmosphere. And let’s not forget the fragrant loose tea and freshly brewed coffee at the end of the meal, served with a cookie jar.

And as an endearing extra, we were each furnished with a bag of hand-made mini meringues before we left. There has never been a local eatery so hospitable.

Bel Canto

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Published on Foodepedia on 13th September 2010:

Chorus Hotel, 1-7 Lancaster Gate, London W2 3LG www.lebelcanto.co.uk

Intense. That is probably the best way to describe the experience at Bel Canto. You see, at Bel Canto, guests are served by waiters who perform opera at regular intervals. And in the relatively small room of the restaurant, that’s quite a lot of reverberations to take in.

For anyone who has been through one too many drunken karaoke session, this probably sounds like a bit of a nightmare. But actually, all of the performances were by trained opera students and young professionals so there’s an assurance of quality. And I know that opera has got a reputation for being a bit posh and stuffy but the atmosphere at Bel Canto is so relaxed, I really didn’t feel at all out of place as an opera virgin. And neither, it seems, did anyone else given most appeared to be tourists.

In fact, between the performances, the artists were more than happy to talk to guests about their training, lifestyle and the history of opera. If anything, guests were actively encouraged to ask questions and to join in the performance. At the end of the second course, for example, we were invited to join in for the chorus of the Brindisi.

Of course, the relaxed atmosphere is not to say that the quality of the dining experience has been sacrificed for something that’s rather gimmicky. On the contrary, the atmosphere strengthens the concept behind the restaurant which, according to their brochure, is a combination of “opera and fine dining with an elegant twist”. But then again, it’s hardly a new concept. In fact, Bel Canto in London is the third of a small chain of Bel Cantos from the restaurateur Jean-Paul Maurel. He has been successfully running Bel Canto’s sister restaurants for over six years in France, where the other two Bel Cantos are located. However, back in London, it was a little disappointing to find that they didn’t have an a la carte menu. Surprising, if they want to be serious contenders in the fine dining arena. Perhaps it’s because Bel Canto is still a relatively young restaurant at only six months old.

As a starter, I had the salmon gravalax and my companion had the foie gras. Both had proved to be more than satisfactory and refreshingly light – just the perfect way to start a meal where more is demanded of the vocal chords than just conversation.

The main for me was a slightly heavier set fillet of beef, medium rare of course, with pomme Anna. It was the standard sort of offering that you might find in a French restaurant but one which appeased my taste buds. My friend had the slightly more adventurous duck breast with sweet and sour summer fruit sauce. Looking at the delightful presentation, I couldn’t help but wonder if it tasted a bit like Pimms on a plate. As the meal progressed though, it was hard not to feel that perhaps the food was secondary to the opera – all the guests were more than happy to participate and one had to consider whether it was appropriate to carry on eating through the performance.

To round off the meal I had my desert of choice, crème brulee, and my friend managed to acquire the last tiramisu with glee. It wasn’t a real crème brulee, though, as the chef had put a twist on it by adding raspberries and basil. The raspberries were a welcome distraction but the basil was very overpowering. So much so that it was almost another savoury course rather than desert. The tiramisu was certainly very popular amongst the other diners and rightly so given its pleasing combinations of cream and coffee soaked sponge, all in good proportions.

All the dishes served were cooked beautifully and perfectly presented and despite being a set menu, there was a decent selection of dishes to choose from. However, while Bel Canto is the sort of place that gets you humming opera unexpectedly the following day, it’s perhaps not what you would usually associate with fine dining.

Namo

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Published on Foodepedia on 18th August 2010:

178 Victoria Park Road, London E9 7HD www.namo.co.uk

How many restaurants can lay claim to a Banksy on their wall? The answer is probably not many. But Namo, a modern Vietnamese restaurant in the heart of leafy Victoria Park, can boast one. Well, almost one as it’s been partially painted over and graffitied on since it’s inception.

Inside is a whole different story. Namo, the second restaurant of husband and wife team Colin and Linh, is tastefully decorated with just a hint of the orient, playing host to a surprising mix of young families and trendy youths.

It seemed appropriate to time my visit to a menu change, given that the restaurant is already five years old.

Crispy courgette flowers and steam stuffed baby squid were complaisant introductions to the menu – they were just European enough to be familiar without defecting from the aim of trying out the Vietnamese cuisine. There were also more traditional options to choose from like Pho or ‘la lot’ wrapped beef. The courgette flowers arrived with a chilli dipping sauce placing it firmly on Vietnamese terrain. The baby squid, stuffed with pork and prawn, also had a sprinkle or two of chilli. The two offered an indescribable blend of flavours to the palate and a touch of spice.

For the main, Saigon pork and Vietnamese fish in claypot were ordered, both with a side of leaf wrapped coconut rice and vegetables.

The coconut rice is something you could happily have on its own. The leafy parcels opened up to sweet coconutty rice mixed with savoury vegetables, a combination that was really quite moreish. Mackerel pieces in a caramelised ginger sauce made up the fish in claypot. It was simple, uncomplicated and complemented the rice very nicely. The Saigon pork, though, turned out to be Saigon beef.

As it happens, Namo had a particularly busy lunch service and ran out of pork. You would have thought that they’d ask if a change of order was required before bringing it to the table. Luckily I had no quarrels with eating beef and the flavours weren’t half bad. The deep fried sprinklings of vermicelli topping seemed a little excessive but the beef was seriously tender and you could certainly taste the spices in the sauce.

At this point, the meal was sitting quite heavily and yet there was some how room for dessert. Banana fritters with coconut ice cream was ordered but apple fritters with coconut ice cream arrived – the meal replacement service strikes again! The restaurant was clearly still having some teething problems.

Namo didn’t serve up the fresh and overtly health conscious Vietnamese cuisine I had anticipated and the relaxed approach to orders was rather disappointing. But to its credit, the food that was ultimately served up was wholesome enough and certainly enjoyed by the hoards of locals that seem to flood in around 8pm. And the coconut ice cream was definitely a nice way to round off a heavy meal.