Taste: The Rythre Arms

In the middle of Yorkshire lurks a little pub serving generous cuts of prime beef. The Rythre Arms could be any country village free-house; kegs for tables, horse shoes on the wall and an open fire in the corner. However, as the county's foodies arrive, the locals are swept aside and everyone's chatter turns to the Rythre Monster, a 78oz main attraction.

For 20 years the Linleys have been serving the same menu. Below the headline T-Bones are a selection of rumps, sirloins and fillets served in Maid Marrion or Friar Tuck slabs from £14 to £32 (£44 for the monster). All ours were as described and to specification, medium-rare, naturally. Nobody this evening went for the Monster, A 78oz oz steak is the size of a laptop. It would've been nice to see the cuts beforehand, if only to gawk at them.

I went for the otherwise massive 'Giant T-Bone'. 42oz of phenomenal meat; An even cut of marbled sirloin on one side, tender fillet on the other and both in endless supply. I paused only once to try the potatoes, carrots and onion rings dotted around the table garnish and immediately returned to the meat - clearly no need to deviate and quality wise - best left along.

There are a couple of non-beef options on the menu although I can't vouch for them. A popular order is the quirky named carpetbagger (£30); a fillet stuffed with tiger prawns or king scallops and smothered in a rich tomato and tarragon sauce. A little rich maybe, perhaps go for the £9 surf-n-turf seafood enhancement to any steak if you're into that kind of thing.

Owner and master butcher Eric Linley clearly needs no approval and word of mouth has people driving across two counties for a place at one of the two nightly sittings. Our two hour round trip featured my apprehensive stomach grumbling all the way there and on cloud 9 for the return in a way that only the best T-Bone I've ever had can accomplish.

The Rythre Arms

Main St

Ryther, Tadcaster,

North Yorkshire,

LS24 9EE (map)

www.rythrearms.co.uk

Taste: River Cafe review

River Cafe is not an ideal place to approach from the tube on a blustery November evening. From Hammersmith station go south across the roundabout, under the A4, round the back of the Apollo and through a couple of estates. From there through a gap in the fence to the river, across a patch of deserted building site and finally along an eerie stretch of waterside path where a couple of dark silhouettes will have you rehearsing that talk-them-down speech we've all prepared for that moment (touch wood) when mugged. Mine begins something like "yes, absolutely here's my wallet - but first may I keep that photo of my daughter, I wish I'd taken more when she was alive... have children, do you?"

Across Richard Rogers' tidy courtyard, into the restaurant and that's easily forgotten. A welcoming party unwraps our coats and we're ushered over to a modern attractive bar where blazered professionals chat 'shop' and martinis promptly arrive.

Chatter flows through from the dining area; a large, attractive, clearly architecturally considered space. A polished and cake-laden service bar runs the length of the room on one side from an open kitchen at the end. Every other square inch of floor space is tessellated with diners, between who wait staff in crisp pinstripe shirts and clean aprons synchronise their darts and nips.

Ours waiter is confident, personable and clearly ofay with the melee of seating. Zipping ahead he leads us across to the far side of the room to a table on the edge of the throng and at the mouth of the kitchen's show-piece, a beautiful wood-fired dome oven.

The ever changing Italian, traditionally coursed menu is all literally mouth watering. Clearly rendered physically choice-less the water suggested a current one-off, Gnuddi (River Cafe's own spinach gnochi), served simply with their currently limited batch of decade-ish old balsamic and olive oil. It hit a light heavenly spot I wasn't familiar with. A taste I will never forget and probably never find again. Scallops, too, were served very simply. Large, perfectly cooked and on a par with my #1 for seafood: the company shed.

For mains, a friar tuck sized veal shin, on the bone with canellini bean and Swiss chard was another first, superbly textured somewhere between great lamb and fantastic steak. Sea bass fillet baked in a bag with porcini, thyme and Vermouth, with spinach was another delivery of balanced taste and perfectly prepared ingredients.

By the end of an Almond Tart with Strawberries and Grappa Pannacotta we were blissfully weak at the knees.

Sure, the logo is appalling and barely better is the projection-clock dominating the room, but these strands of hair aside and River Cafe is in my experience the finest Italian restaurant in the country. We'll be back in spring when the River Cafe spills out onto Rogers' tidy courtyard.

River Cafe

Thames Wharf

Rainville Road

London, W6 9HA (map)

+44 (0)20 7386 4200

Taste: A touch of Novelli

Super-chef Jean-Christophe Novelli is not afraid of getting his name around. A nudge of Floyd, a sprinkling of stars & rosettes and a central London "empire" leave a calendar full of Hell's Kitchen, The Apprentice, Richard & Judy, Hello Magazine, MTV Cribs and so on. Fortunately for those amongst us who like a chef to stir soup he's opening a chain of Gastropubs around the country starting with The French Horn in Steppingly and here, attached to the The White Horse Pub in Harpenden.

Branded A Touch of Novelli this converted barn is about as subtle in presentation as it is in name.You're hardly going to eat here without knowing who owns the place, the super-chef continuum has permeated through. There he is, pondering back at you from the restaurant's card, his lead-cast hand print hanging from the wall.

The rest of this barn-conversion has been done in good taste, modern, clean, elegant with a matching open kitchen along one side. Perhaps it's a little too IKEA - but even Prouvé would struggle to divert one's eye from the frosted glass scrawled with, yes, "Novelli" at one end of the 60 covers space.

30 miles north of London and prices are slightly more affordable at £8 starters and £15 mains. Of course we've been slapped with some off-plan bread before the menus have been opened, at least it has been quaintly baked and presented in a terracotta pot, still warm.

Starters include Soft boiled duck egg, Bayonne ham, marinated globe artichokes, tapenade toast and Bressola of Aylesbury duck breast with horseradish panna cotta, beetroot and macadamia nut dressing to start. Both refreshingly not shy of their respective headliners and realised in the unique way so expected of Michelin star caliber. The horseradish, beet and nut medley working enchantingly well together.

Pan fried breasts of pigeon with foie gras tortellini and minestrone broth showed the bird in a new light. Impossible to replicate ticking one box, fois gras the other and a perfect balance of succulence the third. For minimum surprise, Sirloin steak with hand cut chips was prepared only one way, medium-rare - and that's absolutely super. Surprisingly the beef source isn't mentioned - oh it's 'locally sourced' - organic too? must be fine.

Desserts, well, bad options maybe. Pizzazz lacking sorbet (were we expecting anything else?) and a way belowzero peach-melba lacking the kiss of life. Lesson learned - if only the Jack in the Box award winner was on the menu.

More of a daub than a touch, Novelli's is far from subtle. Definitely not a gastropub and hardly somewhere you'll be staying long past the last mouthful. Each mouthful, however, means none of this matters. This is super-chef Novelli delivering the goods.

A Touch of Novelli
The White Horse
Harpenden
Hertfordshire
AL5 2JP (map)
+44 (0) 1582 469290
http://www.atouchofnovelli.com/

Taste: Haozhan Review

Every other review of a restaurant in Chinatown includes an msg soaked starter reminiscing about Gerrard Street's good old times. Food was terrible, service non existent and any complaints answered with five thunderbolts. Not too sure about the last one but over the past few years I've definitely eaten in a few hum dingers in London's China epicenter.

Not much has changed really. Just our budgets. A couple quid extra has opened the door to the chinese powerhouses of the Golden Palace and Feng Shui Inn. Now though, for a few more pennies there's a 'modern oriental' kid on the block.

Flashing a contemporary feel, Haozhan has been opened with the help from a former chef at Hakkasan. As you'd expect he's brought a keen attention to detail and presentation and influences from Japan, Malaysia and Thailand.
This being lunch, delicately grilled and herbed gyoza-style dumplings and light duck spring roll (served in a glass) made tasty light starters. Onto a clean, meaty champagne cod, soft and succulet jasmine ribs and a waiter recommended dish - beef in red wine served in a crispy noodle nest: Succulent beyond imagination and a taste not experienced before. Seeing one served elsewhere we praised ourselves for ordering a cream of pumpkin desert despite being far more satisfied than expected. It almost crept up - but everything was welll timed, well balanced and, well, delicious.

Haozhan is different. They've borrowed a couple ideas from the likes of Yuatcha, Nobu and Hakkasan and brought the experience down a level without compromising on the senses (or the wallet). It's a bit cheeky to go with such a homophonic name and, mate, the menu has pictures... but that aside and here is a welcome addition for when beef ho fun and char siu isn't quite enough.

Haozhan
http://www.haozhan.co.uk
8 Gerrard Street
London
W1D 5PJ (map)
+44 (0) 20 7434 3838

Taste: The Empress of India Review

High-rises, gangs, prams, Olympics and best-of-the-worst awards come, go and hackney strides on. Victoria Park Village has barely batted an eyelid, nestled safety and uninterrupted in the arms of Britain’s oldest public park. This one and a half stretch of amenities and boutiques stands proud and unmoved like a portly war veteran – who’s puffed out chest is the grand red awning of the Empress of India.

As the menu-prologue is eager to point out, the current incarnation of this elegant British gastropub is the latest in a line of rebirths. At present it features a spick and span layout with grand well-stocked bar presiding over one side. A separately themed dining area to the other half is decorated with a mosaic floor and exotic murals depicting elephants, palaces and turbans

Ambiance here is calm, organised, methodical (not particularly busy on this night). The 15 or so tables are served by two who are obviously experienced and comfortable with the strong menu. A regularly updated handful or so dishes per course are available at around £6/starter and £13/main.

Full flavoured Fois Gras parfait with even fuller port plums joined forces in a rich, delicious combination of my preferred starting staple. The hot smoked salmon, avocado mousse and Bloody Mary sauce was more adventurous, lacking in exhilaration but no less tasty. For mains, I went for the special; Rare short horn lamb on a bed of spinach, potato and delicate goats cheese. Special indeed, more succulent than any lamb I’ve ever tasted. I honestly hummed every mouthful in a one-man throng of euphoria.

From Tom and Ed Martin (including The Gun in Docklands) The Empress isn’t cut from the same cloth as the other gastropubs around town. It is, as the best ones should be, a refined collection of finest quality produce cooked well with culinary genius (in this case, Tim Wilson, former chef at the Ivy). Unlike the others it has less of a traditional hectic feel, more sedate, solid, timeless – like the proud village of Victoria Park surrounding it.

I’ll be going back again.

The Empress of India
http://www.theempressofindia.com
130 Lauriston Road
Victoria Park
London
E9 7LH (map)
+44 (0) 208 533 5123

Taste: Belgo Review

The aptly named "Centraal" branch of Belgo's Belgium Restaurant and Bierodrome is less Belgian and more Laserquest. Grey, mesh and metal greet you once inside along with a steely stare-down from the front desk.

Maybe because of it's popularity with tourists, maybe because it's christmas or maybe because the staff are simply too important we're instantly told all the party must be present, we must line up in front of the desk and must await walkie-talkie confirmation from a relay of ushers if we've got any chance of sitting at a table. Forget Laserquest, it's more like a leg of the Crystal Maze.

Drill passed, down a set of stairs covered in black and yellow warning tape through another couple of holding areas and we're inside a bustling, noisy underground canteen. Thanks probably to places like the Dove, this is a couple countries away from the cosy, inviting experience I was expecting. Here is a themed restaurant with an attitiude. Wait staff lumber around pacing between the two main dining ares at each of a vast, angry kitchen. Plates are being produced on-mass by teams of cooks, one laying out steaks, one on sauce and the other with chips. A couple of diners have become enthralled on their way to the bathrooms and stare in bewilderment.

The broadsheet menu, an ugly collection of boxes accentuates the large collection of beers on offer. I went for a Slag Pilsner and a strong, golden Duvel. Both demonstrating the complexities and variation of good beer production. Around the table are a collection of nods in agreement.

Food. Average. Forgettable. The signature dish, a kilo pot of mussels provencale (the other option was mariniere but white wine & beer?) was not sandy, not small but was too bland. The others all chose steak to great satisfaction but when you're paying £20+ a cut it's hard to get them wrong.

It's not a bad place and obviously very popular. It should have been about the beer and the food but instead we received a mouthful of the rest.

Taste: Sake no Hana Review

Disguised as an office building - Sake no Hana blends only too well into the Economist's Plaza on St James' street. A plaque by the menacing automatic door is the only giveaway before it slides open. A couple of bemused doormen look out - who I'm sure will get used to welcoming lost diners.

Inside is an office building's foyer. They've either painfully replicated the entrance to a Wall St bank in black marble or just left the old building as it was. This being Alan Yau and architect Kengo Koma the latter is a dead cert but it really just feels like the bank. Nothing like the decadence of L'Atelier. Alright, I know, hanging out here isn't scheduled, so up a dark, thin escalator to the 1st floor restaurant.

Somehow cater-cornered and not in a great way the restaurant is a mix of standard tables and sunken no-shoes Izakaya seating. Attractive bleached-wood skeletal pyramids echo the simplicity of the room which has a dab of sober beige, a splash of Dojo and the smell of money. Wait staff tiptoe around sinking awkwardly to their knees when serving, a feat not easily achieved by the burly sake sommelier balancing a £200 bottle with a grimace (they do serve 180ml taster carafes from £12).

The menu, traditional Japanese in summary; salad, tempura, marinated then fried dishes, rice and desert. Sushi and sashimi are not available, the sushi-bar downstairs is not yet complete although the glamorous table of soap stars behind are braying over a round of nigiri.

Over the next 90 minutes the courses roll (or rather loll - first week teething is passable) A minute jar or King Crab salad in a Japanese plum jelly is a silky mouthful of sweet flavors - shame there's only two spoon's and a tinkles-worth. Mixed tempura, with a good but not Tokugawa standard batter. Leaf wrapped oblongs of Chilean sea bass with giant soy beans and button mushrooms in an superbly overwhelming satay-notes sauce and korokke a painfully rendered yet too fussy beef, potato croquette. For staples we went for sticky rice and Udon noodles, both pedigree versions of their mainstream counterparts.

Almost all flavours were choreographed delights, fantastic, orchestraic but over far too soon. The better dishes were the more elaborate but they could fit on a 50 pence piece (whilst costing a fistful of golden coins). After 8 dishes and an onslaught of intriguing tastes we were left not quite satisfied - with a feeling more like eating a selection of Belgian chocolates.

Sake no Hana is the latest restaurant from Alan Yau of Hakkasan and Yauatcha fame. Sure it will get a third Michelin Star but in comparison I'm not so convinced. Maybe that will change when the new-wood smell calms down and the wait staff understand the dishes (and their sizes) better. I've a feeling though that for me there won't be a second time - fine Japanese cuisine exists in just one country.

Sake no Hana
23 St James's Street
London
SW1A 1HA (map)
020 7925 8988

Taste: The Scolt Head Review

It had to happen - all across London common boozers are scrubbing up the floorboards, pulling down the TVs and ordering a crate of duralex. Whilst not a new prospect the last couple years have seen a surge in the gentrified Gastropub and everybody wants a piece of the gourmet pie.

Fortunately, Dalston's Scolt Head has not followed the "get gastro in 21 days" guide and with expertise from the Fox and Great Queen Street has recently re-opened under new management. Almost stranded between Islington and London Fields it’s a solid neighborhood building - fronted by a large bar, trademark low lighting, plenty of exposed wood and an intriguing collection of heat & pressure dials. The "library" of Penguin books is really just a row above the fireplace but add a point for effort.

All the real regulars have been shuffled away into a large romper-room to the back left of the bar. With a stage for live music, pool, darts, boxed games and a giant screen they don’t seem to mind and it’s soon busy. Smartly zoned to the right is an exemplary rustic dining area. Bread is served with balsamic, salt’s in an open dish and the menu printed on A4 with a handful of choices. All good so far.

We went for a chorizo salad - the best I’ve had since the sandwiches in Borough Market; hearty, creamy meal-in-a-bowl of onion soup and a plate of huge razor clams in a garlic and herb dressing. All three (of the four to choose from) were incredible. To follow we all opted for Boeuf Bourguignon on mash, a sultry rich stew with a slightly overwhelming cameo of smoked bacon barging in on the senses. Shame.

That must be a one off – the starters we’re too far into the atmosphere to pull the parachute. Halfway through not just a Lemon Posset but a Scolt Head Lemon Posset and all is forgiven.

The Scolt head might as well be on it’s Norfolk Coast namesake as far as the magnetic field around zone one is concerned. That just means that for people like me who live a brisk walk away there’ll be a table on Friday without having to book ahead, a pint on the bar within 10 seconds and a selection of honest, well cooked food – all for the price of supper in a good pub... as it should be.

The Scolt Head
107a Culford Rd
N1 4HT (map)
Dalston
020 7254 3965

http://www.thescolthead.co.uk

Taste: The Easton

Exmouth Market is an easily overlooked destination visited mostly by people who haven't succumbed to the Angel and Old Street heavyweights, both a respective spit and stone's throw away. Nestled against the Rosebery rat-race highway there's something delicate and appealing about the short leafy lane of one-off shops and bar/restaurants, especially on a rainy evening when the fairy lights beacon safe refuge.

The more local types might even venture a little deeper into the undergrowth, and cautios of the brutish Mount Pleasant lurking nearby slip north up to The Easton, one of the earlier Pubs in London to assume Gastropub status. In established tradition the furniture is rustic, ambiance upbeat and menu simply stated on a chalkboard above the long bar.

I've lunched here a number of times - including an unforgettable beef Sunday roast of Friar Tuck proportions. Each of the three veg and two potatoes ensembling in a way only mothers can otherwise achieve. Today we went for honey glazed Pork chop with Patatas Bravas - the glaze complemented one of the most succulent chops I've ever tasted (the potatoes were okay but I'd have preferred crisper roasts); Pumpkin Pie, visually impressive and an epicurean delight for the pumpkin-lover; and a hearty seafood risotto cooked on the good side of perfect.

I've only been here during the day and cannot vouch for either side of the "get out we're closing" debate in current circulation. To me the Easton is one of a handful gastro-staples, delivering the goods every time.

The Easton
22 Easton Street,
London,
WC1X 0DS
020 7278 7609

Taste: Brunch at Smiths of Smithfield

On the weekend virtually all of London between Farringdon and Liverpool Street resuscitates after a hard week playing around with truckloads of cash. There's a strange emptiness even around residential areas, Barbican and Smithfields both void of excitement.

Smiths of Smithfield on a weekend morning is a relative hive of activity - full of screaming kids, hungover young professionals and disillusioned tourists happy to see somewhere lively. It's the wrong kind of lively though, like a mash up of evening bar and breakfast spot (which it effectively is). The aforementioned people are all over the place, sat around awkwardly round tables which don't lend a hand to the hectic visuals, being tended by what feels like a hundred wait staff.

Our waitress was slightly too busy to actually take our order and when we waivered on which smoothie dashed off unnannounced. We ordered a medium Smith's breakfast (handily numbered from 1-something in order of size) The sausage, bacon beans etc were of okay quality and quantity although nothing special. Totally un-special however were the poached eggs - which had been hard boiled. The reply from the waitress was farcical "you asked for poached eggs and they are poached eggs" but before I had chance to impart a piece of my mind she was gone again - returning a few minutes later with a couple of correctly cooked eggs.

Smiths has it all as an uber-popular evening bar and restaurant but this doesn't translate into a breakfast location. I prefer some peace with my eggs and paper.

Smiths of Smithfield
67-77 Charterhouse Street
EC1M 6HJ
Farringdon
020 7251 7950

Taste: Wild Honey

A little way into Mayfair, In what used to be the Drones Members Club, Wild Honey has just opened. Its the next restaurant from Will Smith and Anthony Demetre, who must be busting for more after the successes of Arbutus. They've slotted into the existing location with minimal fuss around the elegant throwback ambiance, dark oak panels and intimidatingly long bar dominating the entranceway (a good choice for a couple). Happily they've taken away the over sized mobile-orrery light fittings that made the Drone's club feel like a grown-up's cot. The dining room is well tended by French accents and has an understated air, not too business-bland.

The lunch menu is printed on a single sheet of A4 and I must admit to finding this far more palatable than a book - having only a handful of options inspires confidence in their abilities (greasy spoons aside). Printed on another sheet is the wine list. Like Arbutus, almost all choices are served by the 250ml carafe, most lurking around the £10-£15 mark. For sure its an apparent-value approach but one that works "would you like to try a different one?" we're asked as the first slips away - "most guests do".

Set lunch at £15.50 is not to be sniffed at. There wouldn't be time anyway as the top-veal arrives pronto and is consumed almost as quickly - delicious. Its followed by another carafe (Reisling this time) and then onto well presented beef rib. Perhaps it's a little on the fleshy side - some thing I'm quite partial to as a northerner.

Wild Honey is a business lunch venue that's not too heavy on the business and all about the lunch. A welcome addition to the circuit and looking forwards to trying out the evening menu.

Wild Honey
12 St George St
W1S 2FB
Mayfair
020 7758 9160
http://www.wildhoneyrestaurant.co.uk/

Taste: Great Queen Street

Unbranded, unfussy, uncomplicated – Great Queen Street is the thoroughbred Gastropub on the far side of Covent Garden. Of Arabian proportions, Great Queen Street has been studded by the Anchor and Hope and let run with staff from the Easton and St John.

Between undecorated blood red walls diners sit at rustic tables, on simple chairs with standard, uniform tableware. Towards the back of the room a long bar fronts onto the kitchen where I can only imagine chefs are preparing food with one of five utensils and serving into one of three bowl types.

I'm not sure what the textbook Gastropub description is. For sure the Wikipedia page must include Great Queen Street. Menus are presented on a single sheet of A4 with 15 choices arranged by price. Paralleled with the surrounding simplicity they're all directly stated traditional English; game terrine, steak pie (for two, £30), rabbit stew… etc. We opt for a meat double bill with steak tartae to start and lamb shoulder as a main. Our waiter suggests that there are three surplus shanks in the kitchen available as a one-off for only a few pounds more (£28). We nod emphatically. Actually, I can recall a couple of times before when this has similarly happened in the Anchor – an effective marketing strategy.

The tartae was moderate (bland – go for the terrine instead) but the shanks divine. The meat was not just falling off the bone but diving off into the pool of superb, rich oily soup waiting for a knob of bread to soak it up. Served with a healthy bowl of potato gratin this was far more than enough for two and we had to call in for air support before ordering desert. The caramel crème is unmissable.

I heard earlier that in the UK we spend £8b/year in 27,000 restaurants. Good hearty English fayre has to be the most rewarding and patriotic spending of those pennies although I'm torn. I'm sure mothers around the country can do better - mine certainly can.

Great Queen Street is a welcome addition to the gastro-offering around London. It represents all the good things about English pub food with all the bad things taken out and intentionally un-replaced. There’s a premium to pay and one must wonder why… but not for long before returning for more.

32 Great Queen St
WC2B 5AA
Covent Garden
020 7242 0622

Taste: Hotel Du Cap, Eden Roc

One bay east from Cannes, Juan Les Pins poses a more local, sedate rendition of its bolshy neighbour. The town is not without a string of Dior and Villebrequin boutiques and firmly on the Côte d'Azur with an extensive harbour sheltering an armada of modest cruisers. We’re skirting around all this though and heading to the rocky outcrop on the bay’s far side. Here rests the Bond-esque Cap D’Antibes – hotel to the rich and beyond famous (Tom Cruise is a current guest) where a week's stay could buy a small house in Salford. Eden Roc, set into the coastline below the hotel, presents a jaw dropping venue. From here earth sea and sky seem as if physically arranged for maximum wow.

Wait staff in pure white skirt across the boardwalk open-air balcony glancing silent instructions to each other. The warm sun cast an increasingly orange glow over the impeccably formal tables, deep blue sea and dazzling surrounds. It could be a painstakingly rendered CGI scene – crisp lines, all straight edges.

Menus are presented bound in white leather and detailed with gold leaf… only gentlemen have prices. The wine list looks like a wedding album and is almost as weighty (and intimidating). I opt for a Premier Cru Sancerre without daring discussion with the sommelier. I need more time with the food, genuinely stuck for choice between, well, every dish on offer.

I choose my luxury boulder, a terrine of fois gras which is as perfect as any I've had before and served uniquely with French toast. Around the table we're tucking (in the most refined way) into king prawns with mango dressing, truffle & chanterelle ravioli and wild asparagus – all moderately presented. Unfortunately it’s over far too quickly but that gives time to soak in the ambiance. Arriving earlier there were only guests at one or two other tables, now every place is occupied, chinks and chatter float up into the fresh air backed by the muted waves beating against the rocks below.

After a complete re-dress of the tableware an oversize chef with a handlebar moustache coving 40% of his smug face wheels over a grill and heats a knob of herbed butter in a shallow Crueset pan. This is for the steak Diane, cooked in simple perfection as we beam back at him enticed (No wonder he looks smug – its just a slice of steak). Whilst distracted the waiters have snuck in the other dishes and mine – Seabass Provoncale style, is again amongst the best I've had. This is in the rare professionally-fussy category of restaurants where watchful waiters attend silently; a dropped fork will not touch the floor before being replaced.

By now the sun has dipped behind the hill. Across the bay Juan Les Pins sparkles. Over the balcony, 50 feet below as the tide-less Mediterranean sloshes, a pair of black-suited men help a couple into their tender to return to their huge cruiser anchored 100 meters away. Just behind lurks the luxury ice-breaker belonging to the money-drenched Packer family who're here for a €6m wedding the next day.

Deserts, coffee and petit fours follow and before long the outside world has paled into insignificance. Eden-roc is a restaurant where staggering food is only the start and the rest will leave you legless. It’s difficult to imagine this being normality and in a way I’m happy to keep it like that. So good we returned for lunch two days later. If only we had a yacht to float out to instead of a cab ride back to the now far less appealing Croissette.

Hotel du Cap Eden Roc,
Boulevard Kennedy,
B.P. n°29,
06601 Cap d'Antibes,
Cedex, France

http://www.edenroc-hotel.fr/

Taste: Bam-bou

Charlotte Street is a little-mentioned nucleus of restaurants in the awkward corner of central London trapped between studentville Goodge and tourist hell Oxford Street. Its pleasurable tree-lined vista offering a somewhat European aftertaste to a sunny day, far less of a mouthful than the pavement bars coughed up along Frith and Greek.

At the southern end of Charlotte Street stands Bam-bou, an almost member's only arrangement of restaurant, small private function-rooms and dark moody top floor bar. I've been here in the latter two capacities and it was well geared to such pursuits. Now I would see if they've managed to squeeze a worth-while restaurant into the labyrinth of small oriental wood and cast-iron furnished rooms.

The main restaurant room is small, 15 tables or so. Its understated, hinting towards Chinese with a detail here or there. Simple western Chinese is the theme and the uncomplicated menu is neither long or fussy with 10-15 choices each for starters and mains. To the bottom of the list is a note indicating that all dishes are intended to share, one wonders why that needed stating. Share we did (as with most Asian meals) and tucked into ginger squid, sticky Hanoi Style ribs, japanese dumplings and a couple of token dim-sum plates, shrimp har gau and sweet potato croquettes. Nobody else wanted to go for Tamarind glazed frogs legs, perhaps they'd have added an elevation from what was a satisfying but far from ground breaking collection. The mains were a little less formulaic with correctly seared scallops, tender beef with kow choi & shaoshing (who?) and a marvelous preparation of sea bass not far from Cocoon's earthquake inducing equivalent. Ordering rice was confusing and we ended up with one big bowl and a handful of smaller ones of steamed rice and another few tiny dishes of coconut rice. Restaurants really need to just put a per-person price then just keep it coming, heck, rice is literally cheap as chips.

Bam-bou has an intimate feel, service is appropriate, attentive and atmosphere is swanky upper echelon. I would first recommend coming here for the other functions with supper a close runner up. As part of Caprice Holdings (which includes The Ivy and J Sheekey) it's not for the shy wallet but will top up the kudos card.

Bam-Bou
1 Percy Street
London, W1T 1DB (map)
+44 (20) 7323 9130
http://www.bam-bou.co.uk/

Taste: The Ivy

When I'm rich and retired I plan to come to the Ivy for lunch every week. I'll have the same courses each time and a glass of my favorite in between pages of the racing post. How this plan formed, I've no idea - having never eaten here, read a single review or know anybody who's been.

Well lunchtime today my time had finally come to visit the elegant dining institution. The Ivy resides as it has since 1917 on the little trodden corner of West and Litchfield street. Understated and elegant, inwardly pristine stained glass windows along both streets lend a bright and sheltered dining room. Unclouded decadence hangs in the air as well-tailored waiters nod and oblige their way around the traditional and impeccable surrounds.

The menu is english, easy-read and encouraging. I opted for white asparagus with prosciutto and melted Dolcelatte followed by a hearty and mouth watering self-standing cottage pie topped with formidably layered semi-mashed potato. I wish I'd room left for the 2-person Baked Alaska which I'm told is only made properly in a handful of places in the world.

My dining partner tells me that a good restaurant serves warm bread and room temperature butter. I'm more impressed with the food - ha. I'll be having both weekly here in the Ivy when I'm rich and retired.

The Ivy
1-5 West Street
London
WC2H 9NQ (map)

Tel: +44 (0)20 7836 4751

Taste: L'Atelier de Joël Robuchon

West Street, just off Cambridge Circus is one of those central London roads not often visited without purpose. On this evening, however, our purposely empty stomachs led the beat of hunger as we marched towards L'Atelier. Actually, we were running late and almost at canter, even though the nasally French Maitre d had already replied on the phone "don't worry, we are running late too!"

Cool, black, polished; L'Atelier is a recent £5M addition to Joel Robuchon's six Michelin Star line-up and feels from the black and red entrance area like a sultry Yakuza Den or swanky strip club. We're wafted through a grand pair of glass doors into a slim space countered with stools along the entirety of one side, a handful or less of 4 seater tables stand outweighed between the bar and a living wall of green foliage.

Sitting at the high-backed black bar we're served entirely from the opposite side by a gangly French waiter. He's unable to make eye contact and talk at the same time, such disgust must be expertly trained. Behind him a nebulous concentration of black stealth-chefs move between shiny, luxurious kitchen workstations as if in a secret NASA cookery experiment. The shadowy foreground is punctuated by lines of bell peppers, perfect-size apples on beds of ice and square bowls of floating cucumber strands. Its all oh so close to being tacky but falls only just on the right side of impressive.

The concept menu does not care if you understand it or not. The waiter has prepared his stare of abhorrence for the moment you look at him puzzled. Basically there are a number of dishes that feature on both the starter and main courses list. On either, the portion size may range from enough to share to barely a mouthful. There's no way of knowing without asking him. Price as a guide is useless (£10-£60 each), call me northern but a more logical arrangement would be welcomed. Luckily we were sharing so selected a number of dishes and randomly chose whether to have them small or large. If you're coming here to eat your own meal, take the time to ensure against quantity imbalance.

The food on the other hand is balanced to perfection. Every mouthful feels entirely prepared and is swiftly followed by the culinary goose-pimple, a sparkly eye widening. Each dish is as different as the plate on which it serves and over four courses we rejoiced through wafer thin Iberian ham, seafood paella, aubergine caviar (mousse to the layman!) a tiny taste explosion of squid ravioli and outstanding crispy ricepaper wrapped langoustine. Each has a hint of Japanese flavours, the theme of this, the ground floor dining room.

On the first floor is a "more formal" dining room "La Cuisna" serving a sightly different (yet just as complicated) menu. Above this is a masonic bar to which we are swooshed to "relax and enjoy" dessert. I'm sure there were more economic reasons for this as the wait staff sprang in to turn around our seats. This quickly forgotten, it was a perfect beyond-exclusive setting to savour the most amazing (and probably most expensive) mango pudding of my life.

L'Atelier de Joel Robuchon
13-15 West Street
WC2H 9NE (map)
Tel: +44 (0) 20 7010 8600

Taste: Thai Cottage

Soho's inconsistently full to the brim of almost anything. It's particularly hard to venture away from the beaten track without being either hugely underwhelmed or massively overcharged. Naturally, everybody has their own safe-haven and thanks to many a business lunch, the Thai Cottage is mine.

Although the "pre show" board stands disheveled on the pavement outside, this little 8 table, family-run restaurant nestles hilariously far from Broadway, up on D'arblay Street. Pretty much the only 'true' Thai restaurant for a country mile; money can't (and blatantly didn't) buy this type of authenticity. Its like a family run greasy spoon, awful place-mats, wonky wall hangings, mother behind the bar, father sat peeling ginger and the kids nipping downstairs to the kitchen.

Food is good and in abundance with loaded dishes of typical cuisine. I've never been here and not had Sea Bream in 3 thai sauce and never will. Satay and Phad Thai are excellent and could rival their counterparts 8,000 miles away. Watch out for the beer, a few harmless little bottles of Phuket and Singha can too easily capsize the wallet.

I've been here when the air conditioning broke, the kitchen set on fire and in darkness when the electricity failed. I've sat in every single chair during the last four years and even stood outside with a plate when they didn't have a free table. It's virtually the only restaurant in town where I'm recognised every time and despite tough competition from the likes of Busaba and Patara, the Thai Cottage is top of my Thai list.

Thai Cottage
34 D'arblay St,
London, W1F 8EX
Tel: 0871 0757487

Taste: The Dove

Broadway market is a curious stretch of shops and restaurants at the south end of Hackney. In very, very olden days this area marked last feeding ground of livestock as they were led through to Brick Lane and Smithfield. Drovers would stop in at the Cat and Mutton or the Flying Horse for a pint of best and rack of lamb.

Since then however, the street has been overrun by the surrounding urban estates and only recently resuscitated into the farmers-style market of today. Its a good place to go on a Saturday morning and be spoiled on overpriced organic fayre.

A sunny afternoon shows Broadway Market at its best as the gastro pubs spill out onto the streets and the local population hasn't started gathering outside the off license. Tonight we visited the Dove, a popular network of small candlelit annexes, famously serving a hundred or so varieties of Belgian Beer. The list is indeed long and not to be sniffed at (especially with £3 upwards price tag for 25cl). I'm a fan of golden ale so stuck on a delicious Delerium Tremens (9% - haha). 3 of those later and a delicious burger (Wild Boar please) and we were skipping home like happy Trappists.

The Dove
24 Broadway Market
E8 4QJ
+44 (20) 7275 7617

Taste: Mandarin Palace

We've rarely the occasion to be near Gants Hill on the weekends, but being in the area for an east London hockey match was a great opportunity to visit a favorite place. Having just returned from a week in Hong Kong, Chinese food is barely top of the genre wish-list, however there's little excuse not to come to one of the finest dim-sum restaurants in London on the way through.

The Mandarin Palace is right on the corner of Gants Hill roundabout on the busy A12. Nothing special from the outside - but don't let that deceive you. Inside is a run of small rooms, stylish and calmly dressed with traditional Chinese items and artifacts. It has a comforting elegance without the typical brute-force oriental onslaught (think Canary Wharf's Royal China) or standard Chinatown wall-size paddy field frieze.

However, not here today to browse the exhibits. We and the mostly Asian contingent have come for dim-sum, and here is exactly the place I'm referring to after visiting Yauatcha. They've pretty much every dish going; har-gau, siu-mai, cha-siu-bao... all splendidly fresh and priced at around £2/dish. My taste for dim-sum is purely implicit, delicious is as close as we'll get.

Well worth the trip.

Mandarin Palace:
559-561 Cranbrook Rd,
Gants Hill, Ilford
Essex.
IG2 6JZ
Tel: 020 8550 7661

Taste: Dragon-I

Lan Kwai Fong is a Hong Kong's few blocks of party paradise. Scaling the steep terrain of the island the path upwards is not a light walk after a couple cocktails in the humidity but of course there are a chain of escalators present to help out. By night Dragon-I is one of the city's most exclusive spots, filled with it's most glamorous celebrities I'm told (not that I'd recognize any).

On the weekend the club operates as a trendy dim-sum restaurant. Now I know its trendy, cheesy, western dim-sum but honestly, it was almost as good as Yuatcha. For anybody who's had enough of the real stuff to appreciate it's simplicity, Dragon-I offers a cheeky escape. All you can eat too!

Dragon-I
The Centrium 60 Wyndham Street
Hong Kong,
Telephone: + 852 3110 1222
www.dragon-i.com.hk