Watch Out

This left just one thing to concentrate on. The food. It was worth it. Shortly after settling down, canapés arrived unbidden. They were a gastronomic delight but a tactical error. A second before I swallowed the tiny beef bourguignon tart, Simon ate his and exclaimed, “That is fantastic.” Despite this it managed to take me by surprise. Like the Tardis, it seemed scientifically impossible for something so small on the outside to be so big once inside. I can still taste it now. Nicky felt the same about the accompanying deep-fried quail’s egg. However good the rest of the meal was, it was going to be tough for it to scale the same heights.

It tried pretty hard. My starter was a piece of foie gras which, unusually, had been seared and then poached in a sauternes consommé. Seared is good in my book, you can’t have too much searing, but I’m not so sure about consommé. It turned out to be the best bit - a wonderful, intense, almost sweet sauce.

I looked around at what everyone else got and I think I was the winner. But Alexis was pretty impressed with her chilled pumpkin and ginger soup, while Nicky’s heart sank when her plate of meaty scallops arrived covered with what appeared to be a thick cheese sauce. It turned out to be a light parsnip sauce, and wonderful, scented delicately with cumin.

My main course was much more straightforward - best end of lamb, with a dab of potato purée. It was pink and juicy, as you would expect, but, well, it was just lamb. Nicky and Simon had fillet of veal, accompanied by a highly seasoned (another good phrase as far as I’m concerned) boudin of braised veal shin, while Alexis enjoyed the rabbit saddle.

Simon, as he always does, then said what everyone else was thinking: “It’s really lovely, Daniel, but they didn’t bring the chips.” We all agreed, but did so quietly in case someone heard and decided we weren’t sophisticated enough to dine there. Simon said that he hoped that “at these prices I won’t have to go home and make toast”.

The desserts banished such thoughts. The greatest strength of the kitchen at Pied à Terre is the way flavours complement each other. This was at its best with the last course. I don’t actually like butterscotch ice- cream, but it combined superbly with my warm roasted peach, on which it sat separated by a crumbly piece of shortbread. Simon felt the same about the interaction between his strawberry grape jelly and fromage frais sorbet.

And the wine? A glass was provided with every course, selected to match the food, which I’m told it did. Choosing was another thing we didn’t have to worry about. Good thing too, since my wine correspondents weren’t really up to the job after an opening cocktail.

We spent three hours at our table, cocooned in a little world of canapés and courses. And I didn’t have any trouble remembering any of it. Of course I didn’t - it cost £85 a head.

Giles Coren is away

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