Le Caprice

Tucked away behind the Ritz, the more discreet sister restaurant of the Ivy lurks.  I’ve been going to Le Caprice for so long that it’s a home from home.

At the age of 18 months, the waiters would stack up plump cushions for me to sit on, and I would eat contentedly, no crying or screaming.  Twenty years later and the service is still wonderful - once, when the soufflé I had ordered collapsed before it left the kitchen, an array of petit fours were given to me and my dining companions to tide us over for the extra 5 minutes' waiting time.

Once the subtle, blue, lit ” Le Caprice” sign comes into focus, you are greeted by the top- hatted doorman who swings the revolving door.

You enter another world – the décor is classically chic with a black and white colour scheme creating a crisp, bright, understated, formal  atmosphere.  If you’re lucky, Jesus Adorno, the face of the restaurant who has been there since the doors opened in 1981, will greet you at reception and within moments sweep you off to your table.  On Sunday I went for brunch, but I’d also recommend also going for dinner, when a jazz pianist heightens the sense of occasion further.   My favourite place to eat is in the alcove lined with the Paolozzi installation.

Sunday brunch began with a cocktail, naturally.  Bloody Mary, extra spicy. The breadbaskets were full of freshly baked bread, and banana crumble muffins which were fresh, delicious and not overly sweet.

To start, I ordered the heritage beets, crispy goat’s cheese with a truffle honey dressing.  Nestled amongst the peppery rocket leaves and sweet vinegary Murex coloured (rich Roman dye) beetroot slices was the savoury smooth molten goat’s cheese.  With the truffle dressing to tie the dish together it worked very well.

I opted, then, for the Caprice burger.

A burger is usually a good way of testing the standard of a restaurant, and the Caprice burger does not let the restaurant’s reputation down.  It’s juicy, buttery, and flavoursome.  The bun is delicate and fluffy, and combined with the delicious club sauce - a well- balanced tomato salsa, the burger is not far from perfection.  And then there are the pommes allumettes…  Some of London’s best.  They are so good that I’ve known friendships to end over them.

Once I had got through mine I had to steal a few from my unsuspecting companions.

After a few more Bloody Marys, dessert was looking like an impossibility but Bertrand, our wonderful waiter, convinced me otherwise.  The Caprice iced berries dessert have become so famous that they’ve been frequently imitated – for example, the restaurant chain Côte has now incorporated them into their menu.  They’re good but nothing like the original.  The iced berries are no longer on the menu, but if you’re a seasoned patron you’ll know that it exists off the menu (along with several other secret dishes).

This beautiful creation also appeared at the table:

The iced fleur de sel chocolate crunch bar is most definitely not style over substance.  It is a sumptuous feast of salted tempered chocolate layered over light chocolate mousse with white chocolate ice cream and chocolate coated popping candy.

We rounded the meal off with fresh mint tea and truffles.

Definitely order the latter.    The tempered fine chocolate shell gives way to the velvety salted caramel and passion fruit ganache interiors and they are seriously addictive.

Le Caprice truly does deserve its place as a London institution.  It ticks all the boxes.  The ambience and service are unbeatable, and the food is reliably delicious, unfussy & generously portioned.   I can never return soon enough.

Price – ££££

Ambience – 10/10

Food – 9/10

Service – 10/10

Loos – 8/10

Suitable  for: dates, celebrations, family gatherings, pre-theatre

Quaglino's - the relaunch

Glamour is what was promised, and glamour is undoubtedly what we got. My dining companion and I were attending the pre-launch of the just-refurbished 85 year old London institution, Quaglino’s, due to re-open officially on 17th October.

The door to the art deco style entrance was swung open by the doorman decked out in glitzy gold brocade, and the old school Disney theme continued as we descended into the underground palace.  Hostesses sashayed around in their gold and black, clearly enjoying the swish of their gold pleated trains – an OTT style more suited to a Middle Eastern restaurant, according to my companion.

The bar features undulating black leather seats, creating an intimate space for a large number of people:  an impressive feat, bearing in mind the hugeness of the space.  A show was put on for us, with the warm-spiced, citrus scent of the house-made vermouth drifting seductively from its glass vessel.  Our charming Italian barman readily poured us each a shot to try. Delicious.  A test tube of mossy green dill liqueur was held up for us to smell, and we were presented with crystalline ice globes chiselled from the block of ice displayed prominently on the bar counter.

The cocktail menu is extensive, divided into past, present, future and prestige, designed to emphasise Quaglino’s solid place in London’s restaurant history.  I asked the barman for something containing lychee, and received this beautiful gin and cucumber creation:

I liked the fact that it wasn’t too sweet, but all in all, I thought it tasted a bit too healthy.  My dining companion went for a whisky, vermouth, and apricot concoction on the rocks – very strong and very good, a dangerous mix.  The drinks are certainly not cheap (£12-15), but as my friend pointed out, one’s paying in part for the knowledge and skill of the barmen.

N.B. my camera broke at this point so quality is lower hereon.

Unfortunately, we had to remind the bar staff ten minutes after our booking time that we were waiting for a table, but we were swiftly joined by a uniformed hostess.  She led us down the gleaming gold front lit staircase to the dining room.

I only narrowly avoided tripping on the train of her dress.  The space is sprawling, with thick white columns on each side, and lit up panels overhead. From this point on, service was immaculate, with no eye avoidance, and no pestering.  The sommelier, waitress & waiter were all helpful and willing.  Slippers of bread still warm from the oven arrived immediately.  To start, I had the London smoked salmon.

The accompanying horseradish cream, capers, and finely chopped onion were served separately by the waitress, which was a nice touch.  The salmon looked good, but it wasn’t extraordinary.  The dish would have been made more refined by cutting the slices more finely.   My companion chose the Lobster ravioli in a marmite bisque – an interesting mix which made sense with the delicate initial sweetness of the lobster cut through by the later saltiness of the marmite infusion.

I then chose the chicken with girolles, Jerusalem artichoke, and a truffle-infused jus.

The positives:  The chicken breast was elegantly frenched, cooked well, and served in a stylish white bowl.  It was pleasing to find a dish containing Jerusalem artichokes, so often under-used.  Finely sliced, these added an earthy, savoury depth to the dish which was complemented by the girolles and jus.

The negatives:  the waitress told me that the only meat was chicken breast, but hidden underneath the breast, I found a piece of rubbery, goose pimpled chicken skin wrapped round some of the brown meat.  I had to set aside this unpleasant surprise, almost losing some of the girolles, too, which had been camouflaged. In my opinion, if skin is to be kept, it should be crisp, and used to add texture to the dish.  This wasn’t the case here.

My companion ordered the venison with parsnip purée, braised red cabbage, and sauce Grand Veneur.  The venison was tender and pink, and the other classical pairings were done well.  He thought the portion size a little mean, however.  The side of Gratin Dauphinois was disappointing – the crisp golden crust promised joy, but gave way to slices of potato floating in an overly runny, cream sauce.

Valrhona chocolate fondant was the obvious choice for dessert, and met our high expectations: rich velvety, and molten.  A twist of added ginger, or another exotic ingredient, would have been welcome to cut through the richness, but even without it, the fondant was greatly appreciated.  The Colston Bassett cheese course was also good – the pairing of a mustard-infused quince jelly worked well, and the house-made fruit and nut crackers were very good, although too few.  The waitress, however, willingly brought us a few more.

The experience was slightly Disney and with a few errors, but  enjoyable all the same.

Food: 7/10

Drinks: 9/10

Price: ££££

Ambience: 8/10

Service: 9/10

Loos: 9/10

Suitable for: dates, celebrations, reunions, family, friends

Opium Bar & Bob Bob Ricard

“We’re going to a secret place,” I was told.  My friend found me amongst the throngs of Gerrard Street and whizzed me off to Opium.

The only ‘feature’ identifying the bar is a doorman – but don’t be intimidated as he’s lovely, and no way near as surly as the one at Purl in Marylebone.  Once through the shabby black door we clambered up the narrow wooden staircase, with bars located on both the second and third floors.  We stopped fleetingly to meet the manager: my friend is one of the most charming people I know, and has now found a second home in Opium - so much so that he has been known to spend eight hours straight there.  And the vibe at Opium is indeed warm, with its wooden walls and seating, and the abundance of red jars and décor.  The energy of the crowd pleased to have located this exclusive hard-to-find spot is also invigorating, and there’s no two hour turn around, nor waiters nudging bills at you while you’re finishing your first drink.

We sat on stools around a wooden bartender’s table lined with apothecary-style bottles filled with innumerable spirits.

The bar staff are fun, unpretentious, and supremely talented.  When I requested a cocktail, my only stipulation was that it should be savoury and, after some theatrics, this beauty was served to me.

Exactly what I wanted.  I’m not entirely sure what it was, but imagine it was along the lines of the Boulevardier of Sour Dreams: nikka from the barrel, fresh orange juice, antica formula, campari, fresh lemon juice, sugar syrup, egg white, orange zest garnish.  Utterly sublime.

Opium

Price - ££££

Drinks - 10/10

Ambience – 8/10

Service – 9/10

Suitable for: dates, friends, celebrations, late night drinks, bar food

After several cocktails, we stumbled off to Bob Bob Ricard, a Gatsby-esque restaurant dominating the corner of St James’ Street.  The doorman & maître d', decked out in pale pink, were charming.  Opulence is the theme here but with none of the attached snootiness.  I tied in well with the décor, wearing an all-over leopard print dress – my singing teacher, who possesses leopard print everything, would have been proud.

We were guided through the maze of businessmen and couples to our own deliciously intimate booth.  Its gold-lined marble table glittered beneath mirrored gold ceiling tiles, and was encircled by plush velvet curtains to shield us from other diners on three sides.  For the four of us not known to hold back on raucous laughter, this was perfect.

This restaurant is also ahead of the game in terms of marketing: the BBR “press for champagne button” toys with one’s willpower.  Who has ever resisted a button?  Even the fire alarm button became too much for one girl at my school.  She was expelled a week later.  Maybe it was worth it.  My willpower lasted ten minutes (I had to test that it worked, of course).

The waiter arrived seconds later, and we went for a bottle of Ayal Rose Majeur, NV: sweet, pink and crisp.  At a later point in the evening, the waiter missed the flute while pouring. ‘Spillage is lickage’ is definitely not appropriate for BBR, but nor is losing some of your £75 investment… Our waiter had also misled us in saying that the Brut was the same price as the Rosé.  It is not.

We plunged straight into main courses with the 2010 Rioja to keep it company.  As we were being served, a couple was shown to the only table in our sight-line, that is, directly opposite.   Perhaps they were confused by the level of intimacy provided by the booths, but for the rest of the evening we had the questionable luxury of VIP seats for their love fest, rudely interrupted on occasion by the waiter.  After toying with the idea of the lemon sole goujons, I chose the filet mignon rossini: 28 day aged scotch beef with seared foie gras, confit apple, served with truffle gravy.  Gorgeous presentation:

But flavour wise, the dish was mixed.

The positives: tender, nicely cooked pink fillet steak.  It was juicy, very fine quality & had zero fat – a winner in my book. The accompanying truffle sauce was flavourful, and complemented the sweetness of the steak very well, too.

I was caught stealing some of my friend’s chips…

Well-portioned, and served in an elegant pink-lined box, these were delightful – thin, crunchy, and potentially rivalling those of Le Caprice.

The negatives:  the foie gras.  I’m not a PETA supporter etc. , and am happy to try foie gras in full knowledge of the gruesome production process.  The flavour itself is full of umami – deeply savoury.  So savoury, however, that the flavour dominates, and then lingers.  Not even a gulp of the Rioja could clear my palate after the minute piece of foie gras.  The globes of confit apple were intelligently added to cleanse and refresh the palate.  They were tangy and gave a crisp crunch to the softer textures on the plate.  However, they tasted as if they had been prepared a (long) while in advance – like a cloth that has remained damp overnight.  The side portion of sautéed spinach was also on the mean side for an inexpensive ingredient so quick to prepare.

My companions, meanwhile, enjoyed their crispy suckling pork belly (one called it the best he’d ever had), and lobster macaroni and cheese.  I tried the latter, and it was indeed delicious.

Dessert was dramatic: having spent at least an hour menu-stalking that morning I knew I was going to have the BBR signature chocolate glory dish - chocolate jivara mousse, chocolate brownie, meringue, and passion fruit jelly.

The melting chocolate sphere has become a mainstay for several restaurants, with the drama adding a flourish to the end of a meal.  I recently visited Petrus, Gordon Ramsay’s 2012 Michelin Star restaurant.  Sadly, that meal was a compilation of negatives, with the only dish worth remembering being their chocolate sphere.  But why bother going to Petrus – atmosphere- less, poor, and excruciatingly slow service, and food that is below weak (an M&S ready meal is far superior and a fraction of the cost)?  Do, on the other hand, bother with the BBR signature dessert: a shimmering gold globe, lashings of smoothly intense chocolate sauce, and the refreshing tang of passion fruit (plus a great photo opportunity).

All in all, a wonderfully opulent experience - not perfection, but now that the taste of foie gras has faded, I shall be back to try the lemon sole goujons.

Bob Bob Ricard

Price - ££££

Ambience – 10/10

Food – 7/10

Service – 7/10

Loos – 10/10

Suitable  for: Dates, celebrations