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Les Trois Garçons

Les Trois Garçons
1 Club Row
E1 6JX

Date of Last Visit: Tuesday, June 23rd, 2009

The Victims: Bevin, Jimmy, Linda

The Damage: About £50 each

The Background: It's a Tuesday night and it's gorgeous out so we try to get over to The Boundary Rooftop. There's a 45 minute wait to get up to the top. So then we consider eating at The Albion, but I can't get excited about the menu. So I suggest Les Trois Garçons, a place I've wanted to try out for quite some time now, for the decor alone.

And maybe there's the rub. If you want to go to a restaurant mainly for the decor, maybe you'd be better off at the Rainforest Cafe.

The Entrance: It's really bright out, which is an odd look for Les Trois Garçons. It's the type of place that I think would do best at dusk or on a dark night in December. With candlelight. There are a lot of things, sparkly things, hanging from the ceiling. In the bright light of day--and particularly a day that's close to the longest day of the year--entering Les Trois Garçons feels like stumbling into a funhouse with the lights on. Not so fun.

The clientele is also pretty dressed up. We're a little, shall we say, casual. This doesn't seem to bother the restaurant at all, but I felt like I made the wrong restaurant choice on the wrong night. This is confirmed when we're handed the menu...£42.50 for TWO COURSES. Ouch.

The Food: Foie gras for me to start and it's smooth and buttery. I'm still smarting over the £21.25 price tag on it, but in for a penny, in for a pound, huh? (Probably more like a 1/3 - 2/3 split on the price, I know.) The only let down here are the toasts. Although they look gorgeous from a distance, they're sandy and crumbly. And although maybe that's meant to be a good foil to the foie gras, I just end up making a mess. (And yes, another night where I've left my real camera at home. Sorry.)

Jimmy and I both opt for the lamb as our main and it is pretty good. I like the soft cushions of gnocchi. The lamb could have been a little bit pinker, but overall, it's respectable. My only problem (besides for the price) is the size of the dish. I am not one to leave food behind, but I had to hand Jimmy my plate half way through as there was no way I could eat more than four slices of the lamb. Odd that I'm complaining about the price and then giving half my food away, I know.

The Loo: There's only one. And it was a bit of a mess when I visited.

The Service: They pulled the bottled water trick. We asked for still water. They brought us TWO bottles, and poured very generous servings. I didn't check the bill, but what do you think? £8 worth of water?

The Verdict: Not for me. The only way I'd go back is on a TopTable discount. Just too OTT (and a bit dated, at that) and too pricey.

Eastside Inn Bistro

Eastside Inn
38-42 St John Street
EC1M 4AY

Date of Last Visit: Saturday, June 13th, 2009

The Victims: Rutton, Al

The Damage: About £40ish each?

The Background: If you fiddle with a food blog, never Twitter where you're going for dinner. Because before you know it, you might end up Twitter-friends with the chef's brother or something. And the chef's brother might tell the chef that you're coming and the chef might drop by your table to say hi and then the chef's wife might drop by the table to say hi too and then you might just fall in love with them both because they're both so nice and you want their new place to be just as successful as they are nice.

So be careful, you know?

The Entrance: I am the first, as always. Rutton is on a bus on the other side of town. Like Westbourne Grove. (Tube troubles, he tells me at the time. But when arrives, he elaborates about running into our friends Dev & Connie at Baker Street on the way and how he just had to have a beer with them.) While I'm waiting for Al, I joke with one of the servers about the review of Eastside Inn in that week's Time Out. That's my server there in the picture. Or at least, my first server. Because after placing my drink order and asking for some tap water, someone else asks me if I'd like to order a drink. And then a little while later--while I'm still waiting for that drink--a third person asks if I'd like a drink. I feel very looked after. But it is a little like Groundhog's Day. (The movie.)

With the boys running a bit behind (Al wasn't THAT late--maybe 7 minutes), I order some snacks. And this endears me to the Eastside Inn immediately. Proper little snacks. Some radishes, served with butter and sea salt. Some very good olives, and some goats cheese and toast. We end up combining the radishes with the goats cheese. A nice combination.

The Starters: Chef Bjorn tells us about his specials...there's what I keep calling Kalbskopf in my head but I suppose you'd call veal head? Calf's head? I forget what Bjorn calls it. Served cold in a carpaccio-like way. And then there's a roast chicken for two. Rutton confuses our server completely by ordering the veal to start and then placing two orders for the chicken, one for him and one for Al. I clear it all up. For me, it's squid to start and the calf's head as my main.

I like the flavors in the squid, which are mixed up with peppers and a nice zesty vinaigrette. The squid seems a little chewy but maybe I need to eat more squid to figure out how chewy is too chewy for fresh squid. (I do think I've eaten a lot of squid. See my About page.) The only thing is...it just seems a little messy, there in its bowl. Like it should be more organized, more neatly piled. Hmmm.

The Mains: Next up is my calf's head, which is a heartier dish than I had imagined. (I obviously was not paying attention while Rutton was polishing off his as a starter.) This is a pretty generous portion. I like it. The veal is sturdy but soft, and it's a cooling dish on a warm day. Rutton and Al are digging into the chicken and they polish it off so quickly I don't even get to try it. I can only tell you that they like it. A lot.

The Wine List: The bistro wine menu is very abbreviated. There's a Torrontes on it, which I'm familiar with after passing the Wine & Spirits Education Trust Exam. (I'd suggest some tasting notes for the bistro menu, personally. And while CdR might clearly mean Côtes du Rhône to me, it means nothing to the average punter.) After some discussion, we end up asking for the wine list from next door, and then the very patient sommelier talks us through some options. (Now if only I could remember what we selected!) Later I'm thrilled to discover they actually will sell by the carafe, as we're not really ready to polish off a second bottle. (I swear that during our meal, the unsteady and uncommunicative couple next to us polish off two bottles of wine between the two of them, but maybe I am just imagining things.)

The Atmosphere: If I were to go back, I'd grab a space at the counter, which overlooks the kitchen directly. I'm a sucker for show kitchens. Decor-wise, I don't know...something was missing. Or maybe the lights were too bright. Or maybe we were just sitting too far up front. When I think "bistro," I think cozy. There's a modern-y newness to the bistro side of the the Eastside Inn that could use some warming up. 

The Verdict: I thought the bistro side of the Eastside Inn was good. I'd give it another shot, for the warmth and enthusiasm of Bjorn and Justine alone.

Morgan M, Plus Some Thoughts on Freebies

Morgan M
489 Liverpool Road
N7 8NS

Date of Last Visit: Wednesday, June 3rd

The Victims: Sarah, Gaby

The Damage: Gaby paid.

The Background: If you haven't noticed, I do like to eat.

But I like exploring more. Some of my favorite posts--the posts I really enjoy writing---are not the ones that are all about a dinner out and a London restaurant review.

I like the adventure posts. The getting-on-a-bus-and-going-somewhere posts. The something different posts. I enjoy a good day out, with multiple stops, some with food. Some without.

When I first started my blog, I borrowed a post from business writer Seth Godin about creating a blog disclosure statement and posted my own on my About page. My Disclosure Statement has gone through various iterations over the years. For a long time, it said something like "I will go out of my way NOT to write about things that other people want me to write about, except when there's a lot of champagne involved." And for somewhat of a shorter time, I removed my Disclosure Statement completely because I felt like I was violating it so utterly and completely.

Case in point. My friend Sarah runs a site for new moms in London. A month or two ago, she went to an event about women in business and met Gaby, who just happens to do PR for restaurants. Sarah says, "You must meet my friend Krista." Gaby knows my work and says something like, "Krista from Londonelicious? I'd love to." And we all arrange to meet up for lunch at Morgan M in Highbury, a place I've always wanted to go to. And a place that Gaby does PR for.

I like Gaby instantly. I want to help her understand bloggers and blogging and Twitter and all those good things. I like Morgan M instantly as well. It's peaceful and relaxing and a great "Ladies who Lunch" sort of place, and you know that I not-so-secretly wish that I were a lady who lunches. Instead, I'm a lady with a full-time job, an addiction to restaurants, and a train that leaves for Paris at 5 p.m. on a Wednesday.

The Entrance: I like how I'm met at the door of Morgan M. and how they take all my belongings away; I've come straight from work with a lot of stuff that I need to run home with after lunch and throw in a suitcase and turn around again and head back to Kings X with. (Are you still with me?)

I like the plates at Morgan M. They're pretty. And I like how while I'm waiting for Gaby and Sarah to arrive, the staff offer me my choice of good magazines. Not bad magazines. Good magazines. (I choose a travel magazine.)

I feel a little pressured to order the tasting menu, which is what Sarah and Gaby opt for. I am on a bit of a diet these days, and really I am not that hungry. Plus I'm heading to Paris and I know I have a multi-course dinner to look forward to. So with some negotiation, I manage to secure just two courses (plus an amuse-bouche) to Sarah and Gaby's five courses (plus amuse-bouche). (Generally, Morgan M prefers that the entire table opt for the tasting menu, but I think I must have looked panic-stricken at the thought of a full menu, so they relaxed their restriction for me.)

The Conversation: After we order, we go back to talking about bloggers and London food and restaurant bloggers and restaurant reviews in particular. Gaby says that she's counted, and there's something like 70 of us London food bloggers these days. I note that she should start looking at the wine bloggers too because for a restaurant like Morgan M with such a nice wine list, I think she's got an additional market.

We talk about the real critics and I learn that although the big ones have budgets and pay-their-own-way, the smaller ones get everything comped. This makes me angry because here I am, paying my way for everything (or, well, nearly everything), and some of the professional restaurant reviewers actually get all their meals for free? But then, I get angry at myself; if I just went around London accepting freebies all the time, I'd kinda feel like somebody's mistress. All the nice things, but no respect in the morning... 

L'Ardoise, Paris

L'Ardoise
28 rue du Mont-Thabor
75001 PARIS

Date of Last Visit: Thursday, June 4, 2009

The Victims: Too many to mention.

The Damage: Unknown! Our CFO paid.

The Background: I was excited, of course, to go to Paris for work. But the fact that Craig and his wife Leann would be there at the same time made me look forward to the trip even more. I know I can always count on them for organizing a great evening.

Craig told me about a little restaurant he had been to the night before and how much he and Leann had liked it. So based on his rave reviews, we booked a return trip--this time, for nine people.

The Entrance: We enter and are shown our own private dining room. How great is this? (The only bad part is that our private dining room is on the way to the toilets.) We make ourselves comfortable and proceed to rearrange all the tables.

Ummm...Only to find out that this is not our table. We don't have a private dining room. We've got a table upstairs in the corner. Whoops. Luckily not our fault.

The Ordering: I steer clear of my co-worker from yesterday's lunch at Georgette this time around. Luckily, there are no paper menus, just a large blackboard. There are also no little toothpicks around, so I can't poke anybody's eyes out.

I do agree to share the cuissot de chevreau roti with the same co-worker, however. (And although I don't know what cuissot means--my French colleagues tell me "shin"; Google Translate says "leg"--I do know that chevreau means goat.) I also take our server's suggestion of the prawn starter, which isn't  even listed on the blackboard.

The Starters: We're brought a couple of boards of saucison. Great stuff. And then my prawns arrive, and I haven't stopped thinking about them since. They're served individually, each prawn in its own little pot of red wine, with a great buttery garlicky crouton on top. It was all I could do NOT to drink the remaining red wine in all the pots. Oh to be dining alone! (I did, however, help myself to some bread to sop it all up.)



The Mains: After a while, my colleagues insisted that I stop calling my main "baby goat." But the problem is, that's how my French colleagues first described to me. As I reviewed the menu, I said, "Well, that says goat" and they said, "Well, it more like baby goat. And what's that part of the leg? The lower part? Shin! Shin, yes. It's "baby goat shin." (Kinda like "baby fish mouth"? If you know what I'm talking about.) Well, the goat, baby or not, was delicious.

The Dessert: I'm not normally a huge crème brûlée fan, but again, I went with our server's recommendation. This was billed as a raspberry crème brûlée, which I figured was because of the raspberry sorbet on top. How wrong I was! This was full of plump raspberries. Fantastic.

The Verdict: This was a very happy meal. I left very happy. I would gladly go back here, and I would gladly recommend L'Ardoise to friends. And strangers.

P.S. Should I warn you that you're going to have to put up with a few non-London restaurant reviews in the coming days? Paris first, Madrid next! But I will try to mix up the reviews in between.

Georgette, Paris

Georgette
29, rue Saint-Georges
Paris, France 75009

Date of Last Visit: Thursday, June 4, 2009

The Victim: Colleague from Paris office

The Damage: Unknown, he paid.

The Background: Every so often, I learn something new about myself. In hindsight, many of these new things are maybe not surprising. But for me, at the time, they're revelations.

So it was when my co-worker took me out to lunch in Paris. He took me to the little cafe, Georgette, in the 9th. He had heard good things from his co-workers. And I'd generally agree with those good things. But...

The Entrance: Georgette is sunny and open and colorful. It seems to be run by women and a quick look at Zagats confirms that. We grab a seat and a server promptly arrives at our table. She speaks to both of us, but as I can only ask for the check in French, I have no idea what she's saying.

My colleague looks at me and looks at the menu (he's holding two: mine, his) and then he looks back at me. He says, "Do you like prawns?" I say "Well, yes, prawns are okay." (Knowing in the back of my mind that this is France and they will be prawns served still in their shells, which I just am not good with.)

He hands the menus back to the server and it's done.

It's done.

He's ordered my food for me. I haven't even had a chance to look at the menu. (And while I can't speak French, I know enough food nouns to be dangerous.) And really, he hasn't looked at the menu either!

I am seething.

Seething! I don't even know what I'm having. I have no idea what just transpired. How did this happen?

I ask my colleague if the prawns are going to be served in their shells, and he says, "Maybe. Probably." And I watch plate after plate come out of the kitchen and indeed, the prawns are served in their shells.

I wouldn't describe myself as a person who gets angry--tense, yes, angry no. But the wave of anger I felt rushing over me as I thought of all the delicious things on that menu that I would never get to try...arrggghhh. I wanted to poke somebody's eyes out with the toothpicks that came with our tiny little olives.

The Food: "It" arrives. And it's fine. The shells on the prawns have already been prepared so they can be removed easily. It's a fresh summery dish. But honestly, I can't concentrate on it because I seriously WANT TO SEE THE MENU.

The Verdict: Georgette was nice. But warning: unless it's Chinese or tapas, don't order my food for me. Or I'll poke your eyes out.

P.S. I know this is a terrible "restaurant review." I also know that I am a terrible person. Sorry.

Le Cassoulet

Le Cassoulet
18 Selsdon Rd
South Croydon
CR2 6PA

Date of Last Visit: Thursday, April 23, 2009

The Victim: Myself

The Damage: About £18

The Background: I like my new phone--the Nokia e71--but I hate its camera. I like its Blackberry-like keyboard. I like the ease of checking my two main Gmail accounts and my Facebook account and Twitter, all in one-click.

But damn, does it take crappy photos. So you'll have to forgive the shots here. Please. (But I know you're here for the restaurant reviews and not the mobile phone reviews, right?) Unfortunately, the e71 was all I had when I found myself in Croydon with a few hours to kill.

Oddly, I found Croydon quite pleasant. There's good shopping in Croydon. And a nice pedestrian zone.

And a French restaurant. A good one. Although it's nowhere near the Home Office, where I was stuck for the day. Really, I should have taken the bus.

The Entrance: I've walked all the way from Lunar House to Le Cassoulet, on the advice of my fellow Twitter-fiends and London food and restaurant bloggers. I'd read about Le Cassoulet before, but I'd never really had a reason to go to Croydon before. But here I was. And I was sweaty and hot, to be honest. Croydon is hot. And a little bit loud. There are a lot of buses in Croydon.

But Le Cassoulet is cool and calm and tranquil. And there's no one there. Just me. Then again, they've been open all of like two minutes when I arrive.

The Service: They are sweet and hospitable and I'm given a comfortable table up front but against a little divider, which is nice. I defer to my server's recommendation for wine, which of course at this stage, I've completely forgotten. But it's nice. And I've brought my WSET books, so drinking alone at 12:30 on a Thursday somehow doesn't seem THAT weird.

Oddly, despite the very solid food, I was the only customer in the restaurant for the duration of my visit.

The Food: Asparagus, a poached egg, and some parmesan to start. Actually, a lot of parmesan. The presentation, I'd say, was exuberant. There was a lot of parmesan. This is not a bad thing. I just noticed it, that was all. The asparagus was great...firm, a little crunch to it, fresh. Lovely.

This was VERY quickly followed by sea bream and courgettes and I really enjoyed this. I know--I came all this way, why didn't I have the cassoulet? Well, like I said, it was HOT. Stew on a hot day just doesn't work for me. Hence the sea bream, which was nice and crispy on the outside, and lots of grilled courgettes. Nice.

The Verdict: I probably won't have a reason to go back to Croydon for a while. But I'm still glad I went to Le Cassoulet. And I'd say if you're in that neck of the woods, you should go too.

L’Atelier de Joël Robuchon

L’Atelier de Joël Robuchon
13-15 West Street
WC2H 9NE

Date of Last Visit: Thursday, April 9

The Victim: My dad

The Damage: £85 for two with a number of wines by the glass. We should have just gotten a bottle of wine.

The Background: The times, they must be tough in London. Because you know Joel Robuchon? He's offering two courses for £19 on TopTable.co.uk. £19! And they have a glass of Shiraz on the menu for £5 a glass! This is cheaper per person than a lot of my gastropub meals. Interesting.

The Entrance: Dad and I are bang on time. I am a little worried about taking my dad to JR. He's more of a fried clams kind of guy. (So I obviously must not get my delusions of grandeur from him.) But the restaurant's service from the beginning to end is really friendly, yet professional, and we're made to feel at home.

We're given two prime seats at the bar. We're not exactly directly in front of the open kitchen, but we're only a seat or two off of it and the view is mesmerizing. These guys are very precise.

The Starters: Pea soup for dad and the look on his face when they deliver the bowl with croutons aber sans soup is priceless. Our server is being funny and whips the soup out from behind his back. Crisis averted.

For me, it's a soft-boiled egg with some very finely sliced beetroot and a smear of this and that. It's gorgeously presented. But I can't help thinking...high margin.

Still, all in all, the presentation is really wonderful and the service is keen and engaged and fun to watch. The food is good.

The Mains: On the £19 menu, you only have two choices: so it's squid risotto for my dad and some sort of stuffed pig's trotter for me. I just like to say the word trotter.

The risotto is nice, if bland. And maybe just a little too crunchy for risotto. My pig's trotter turns out to be fried and while I'm initially a bit upset about it, I get over myself. Because it's delicious, even though it is stuffed with mushrooms, only one of my least favorite things. It's on a bed of honey-glazed carrots and they're very nice. For carrots. Really, had it been described as "something deep fried stuffed with mushrooms on a bed of carrots," you couldn't describe something I wouldn't want to eat more.

Sometimes, you know it's all in the delivery.

The Verdict: You know, I liked it here. Maybe it's because I'm a pretentious something-or-other with delusions of grandeur. But maybe it's just because the service was nice, watching the kitchen was awesome, and the food was pretty good. My dad gives it a good review too.

Terroirs

Terroirs
5 William IV Street
WC2N 4DW

Date of Last Visit: Saturday, March 14th, 2009

The Victim: Me

The Damage: £25

The Background: I was out on a highly unsuccessful errand. Sometimes I think I send myself on these errands, knowing that they will be unsuccessful. This way, I can skip straight to lunch and get a blog post out of things more quickly.

I call Terroirs in advance to see if they can squeeze me in. It's a Saturday afternoon around 2 p.m. What do I know? They tell me to come on over.

The Entrance: I had no idea Terroirs was so close to Trafalgar Square. In a way, this makes me worried. Surely, they will be packed with tourists! But no. The restaurant is actually pretty empty for a Saturday lunch.

I'm given a seat at the restaurant's bar--this is a good place for the solo diner--and the guy behind the bar hands me a menu and then promptly forgets about me. A while later, he comes back and I place my order--smoked eel and some sort of polenta. I take his recommendation on the wine. And he suggests some bread.

And then I wait. And I wait. And then the wine arrives. And then I wait and I wait some more. My server apologizes for forgetting the bread. I say, "That's okay." I assume he'll bring it immediately. He doesn't. And I wait. And I wait. And I wait some more. I ask him, "Hey, how about that bread?" And he is super apologetic and brings it to me.

And all this while, I really wish I had ordered the duck scratchings to start me out.

The Food: The eel arrives and it's good. I took a picture, but my new camera phone kinda sucks so I've got nothing to show you. But the polenta with mushrooms...the polenta is fantastic! And I'm not really a huge mushroom fan. I debate ordering a second helping. But I figure that's not a good idea.

The Verdict: I liked Terroirs. I'd want to return and review more things on the menu. Was not so impressed with the speed of the service though.

Galvin's Bistro de Luxe

Galvin's Bistro de Luxe
66 Baker Street
W1U 7DJ

Date of Last Visit: Sunday, March 1, 2009

The Victim: Stacey

The Damage: £25ish each

The Background: Stacey and I are headed to the Kinetica Art Fair in Marylebone. It's all about light and sound and movement. It sounds cool. The reviews are cool. And it IS cool. It's one of those random things you do in London where you have no expectations and WHAM...the thing is great.

But then BAM! They have no electricity. Yup. All the power goes down. All of it. Kinda defeats the purpose of an art show all about light and sound and movement, huh?

That's okay. I wanted to have lunch anyways.

The Entrance: I've rang up Galvin's from the Robert Dyas on Baker Street, which unfortunately for me and my new television, has no RF cables. Can Galvin's take two in 10 minutes? Yes! They can!

The Entertainment: They sit us at a great corner table in the restaurant next to a guy that had to be 50+ who was obviously having a little romantic rendezvous with a rosy-cheeked gal younger than me. Interesting. Maybe I really should widen my age range on all those online dating sites. It could fund my lunch habit.

The Food: We opt for the prix fixe. But here's what's happened, three weeks later. I sit around looking at the pictures I've downloaded from my phone and I keep thinking, "Where the hell was that? I don't remember eating that." Seriously, I must have looked at these photos at least five times before I remember that they were from lunch at Galvin's Bistro de Luxe. As you can tell, I had blurry orange soup. I also had this, which I vaguely remember was pork. It was blurry pork as well.

The Service: I remember that they were nice. But they really didn't want to bring me my glass of wine until my main was in front of me. This might be the proper French way of doing things. If so, I accept that.

The Verdict: I was surprised by how large and spacious Galvin's Bistro de Luxe was. I expected something very French-bistro-esque with tiny tables that waiters push you into. You know, the tables from which you cannot escape, even when you want to go to the ladies. But there was lots of room at Galvin's. That I remember. Now if only I could remember the food in order to write a proper review...

Oh, and we did get back to the art fair and they had power. It was a great show. Watch out for it if they do it again next year.

La Creperie de Hampstead

 

La Creperie de Hampstead
77 Hampstead High Street
NW7 1RE

Date of Last Visit: Sunday, 24th of January, 2009

The Victim: Me

The Damage: Less than £5

The Background: Julie and I have just been to California Nails to, well, have our nails done. This place fascinates me because it is ALWAYS full of Americans. I know a lot of Americans live in Hampstead, but surely, there are more British women in Hampstead than American women. Apparently, British women don't believe in getting their nails done. Or maybe they're just boycotting California Nails for some reason.

I try to convince Julie to come with me for a crepe, but she gets lost is some sort of celebrity gossip mag (a rotten excuse if I've ever heard one) and misses our post-manicure rendezvous.

The Entrance: There's a big queue for Le Creperie de Hampstead. (Hereafter known as "The Crepe Cart.") I must have waited at least 15 minutes. When I finally get up to the front of the queue, one of the most unpleasant women of all time takes my order. She must have been having a REALLY bad day. My favorite was when an American dude behind me somewhere in line asked to no one in particular "What does savoury mean?" (We don't use "savoury"so much in the States. Maybe among foodies. But not really otherwise.) The woman at the counter yelled, kinda snottily if you ask me, "WHAT'S SAVOURY? IT'S THE OPPOSITE OF SWEET." I know that means so much sense to a British person, but it really wouldn't have made sense to me five years ago.

The being said, this woman is a WORKHORSE. She is making crepes like there is no tomorrow. She's got an amazing system going. One of these days, I need to go back and take a video. It was that amazing.

The Food: I go for a ham, mushroom, and cheese crepe with tarragon sauce. It takes ages to prepare. One sweet crepe after another goes past me, while I'm still waiting for my ham and cheese. But finally, it arrives...

And it is one of the most delicious things I have ever eaten.

Really. The crepe is nicely toasted all around the edges. It isn't floppy. The tarragon sauce is wonderful. The only thing that could have been better were the mushrooms. They may have been tinned. Honestly, with some fresh button mushrooms, I would have died and gone to heaven. Now I understand the queues.

The Verdict: I will go back here many times. Many.