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.
Showing posts with label covent garden. Show all posts
Showing posts with label covent garden. Show all posts
Tuesday
Saturday
Taste: Great Queen Street
Unbranded, unfussy, uncomplicated –
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
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
Great
WC2B 5AA
020 7242 0622
Friday
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.
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
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
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