The question I am asked more than any other – apart from “Is that your car on
the double yellows, Sir?” – is which is my favourite restaurant. It’s an
occupational hazard, but nonetheless surprisingly difficult to answer.
Different situations require different locations. Is it a romantic dinner
for two or a night out with the boys? Anyway, after much head-scratching
I’ve come up with my top 11 (yes, they wanted ten, but I couldn’t think who
to leave out). Before I reveal all, I thought I’d give a checklist of what I
look for in a restaurant. It’s amazing how much you can tell before you’ve
tried a mouthful of food. These rules should apply across the board, be it a
local Indian or smart fine-dining restaurant. What I am looking for is
passion. If a restaurant doesn’t have that, how can it deserve your custom?
Before you walk in, look at the pavement outside. Has it been swept? Is the
glass in the window polished? Nine times out of ten it will reflect the
state of the wine glasses. Once inside, the first things I want to see are
smiling faces. You wouldn’t believe how far a
simple “Hello, nice to see you,” goes. It’s all part of a display of
confidence that is essential to put the diner at ease and give the right
signals about the food to follow. At my restaurants we have smiling sessions
during staff training. It sounds crazy, but it works.
Next, I look for details that create the right ambience. There’s nothing
worse than when you can hear the adjacent table talking in self-conscious
whispers. Restaurants aren’t temples – they should be fun. Are the tables
themselves well spaced? Do they tip when you lean on them? In very good
restaurants they cushion the table so you can rest your elbows on it
comfortably. Are the chairs comfy? Is the lighting right? If it’s too harsh
it kills the atmosphere.
What about cleanness? Not just the cutlery and glasses, but the napkins, the
carpets. I once found an old lamb bone on the floor of a two-star
restaurant. Have the loos got soap and towels (if not, where are the staff
washing their hands)? Are the waiters tidy? When they put a plate down, does
it leave a smudge on the tablecloth? That means the oven hasn’t been cleaned
properly. It may sound anal, but it reflects a slack approach to hygiene,
and that starts from the top.
Then you get to the menus. You can tell a lot from them, not just whether
there’s anything you want to eat, but in what they don’t say. The more
direct the menu is, the more confidence I have in the kitchen. Do the
descriptions give me an insight into what a dish is, without becoming a
shopping list? And please, no symphonies of this nestling in beds of that.
Save that for your romantic fiction classes.
When it comes to ordering, does the waiter spot who the host is and defer to
them? Is he or she able to take your order without writing it down? We train
our maître d’s to takes orders verbally for tables of up to six, although
Jean-Claude at Royal Hospital Road or Dominic at Claridge’s can cope with up
to eight. It makes the whole thing less pompous, so when I see the waiter
take out his notepad when it’s just Tana and me, I think, “Come on, that’s
pathetic.” Few places practise it now, but it’s a sure sign of a well-run
front-of-house.
The greatest indicator to whether you are in for a great meal is the bread.
If it is over-seasoned or stale, you know how your dinner will be. The other
things you can test a restaurant on are orange juice and a bloody mary – two
things Michelin inspectors always ask for.
A word on timings. I’ve got no problem with staggered booking slots – in
fact, it’s a sign of a well-organised restaurant. You can’t have everyone
sitting down at 8.30pm and expect to have their starters by 8.50pm. The
kitchen would be rammed. But that’s different from restaurants that rush you
in the hope of turning tables. To my mind, you need at least two and a half
hours for dinner, and if they’re rushing you, you should feel you can tell
them to slow down.
Finally, that perpetual bugbear, service. Good service shouldn’t draw
attention to itself. If your glass is constantly being refilled, not only
does it interrupt you, it makes you feel like a glutton. And the worst
question any waiter can ask is, “How was your dinner?” My philosophy is if
it wasn’t right, don’t f***ing serve it. Bon appétit.
The restaurants
Chez Bruce
2 Bellevue Road, SW17 (020-8672 0114)
Much in the news recently after being voted London’s favourite
restaurant. I spent three years here under Marco Pierre White when it was
Harvey’s, and I still give a tiny shudder as I walk through the door. It’s
amazing to see it back to its glory days. Modern British, highly seasonal
and not one intimidating thing in there – the perfect local restaurant.
Bruce Poole is a real chef’s chef. He loves his food, he’s articulate and he
just gets on with it. I’m lucky to live on its doorstep – although it will
be a nightmare getting a table now.
Zafferano
15 Lowndes Street, SW1 (020-7235 5800)
This was where it all started for Giorgio Locatelli, a smart restaurant in
the heart of Knightsbridge. What’s amazing is how it’s maintained its
identity with Andy Needham, who worked with me at Aubergine. I had a
sensational pappardelle with wild rabbit the other day, and when truffles
are in town, this is the place to go. To see an English cook producing
Italian of this level is phenomenal.
Benares
12a Berkeley Square, W1 (020-7629 8886)
I was always a great fan of Atul Kochhar’s cooking at Tamarind, and I went
here the other day and was bowled over by the quality. I had chicken with
tomatoes and fresh almonds as part of a two-course £10 set lunch that was
quite stunning. The best Indian food in the country.
Lindsay House
21 Romilly Street, W1 (020-7439 0450)
All good Irish stuff, and fantastic for a boy’s lunch out. The old dining
room has a great Dickensian feel to it, and Richard Corrigan has a neat way
with offal: for example, lamb served with its heart, liver and kidneys. Not
for the faint-hearted, but none the worse for that.
Le Poussin
Beaulieu Road, Lyndhurst, Hampshire (0238 0282944)
Alex Aitken is the most amazing self-taught chef, and given the location in
the middle of the New Forest, it’s like eating off the forest floor,
especially now, during the mushroom season. There’s also lots of game, and
brilliant puddings.
Gidleigh Park
Chagford, Devon (01647 432367)
A really romantic hotel, which I sometimes go to as a treat when I’m visiting
my mum in Somerset. Michael Caines’s cooking is modern European but draws
heavily from local produce, especially the moors, so now is the time to
visit, with the game season in full swing.
Simpsons
20 Highfield Road, Edgbaston, Birmingham (0121-454 3434)
Everyone thinks of the Midlands as bit of a gastronomic ghost town, but this
is a beautiful restaurant, set in a listed Georgian house. It even has four
bedrooms, making it Birmingham’s answer to Le Manoir au Quat’Saisons, I
suppose. I had lunch and dinner there recently, overlooking the gardens, and
it was stunning.
McCoys
The Cleveland Tontine, North Yorkshire (01609 882671)
Another perfect place to get away from it all, this time a dimly-lit,
stone-floored bistro where the velvet drapes give it a Pre-Raphaelite feel.
Eugene McCoy shows that you don’t have to do anything fancy to really
impress, turning out simple classics like beef Wellington and steak and
chips.
Star Inn
Harome, North Yorkshire (01439 770397)
Andrew Pern does for the pub what Bruce Poole’s done for the local
restaurant. Everyone talks about the gastro pubs revolution, and this guy
has put the barometer right up there. It’s quite retro – lamb shanks,
navarins, prawn cocktails – but it’s also local, seasonal and exceptionally
well done.
Restaurant Martin Wishart
54 The Shore, Leith, Edinburgh (0131-553 3557)
Martin Wishart reminds me of myself in the Aubergine days. He focuses on
local produce such as Scottish beef and venison and keeps it simple, but
delivers pure flavour. He trained at Le Gavroche and under Marco and he is
going to be Scotland’s next big thing, no question.
Read’s
Macknade Manor, Canterbury Road, Faversham, Kent (01795 535344)
OK, so I know this makes 11, but I wanted to make a special mention of David
Pitchford, who trained Mark Sargeant, my right-hand man at Claridge’s. Their
loss was my gain. Sarge and I went back to Read’s the other day and I was
reminded what an exceptional restaurant it is. Everything is grown in the
garden, or sourced from local farms. Not fine dining, but just
extraordinarily good.
Four of the best signature dishes
Le Caprice, London: Steak
Tartare with Quails’ eggs
El Bulli, Barcelona, Spain: Roast
Potato Consomme
Chez Bruce, London: Poached
Rump of Veal
La Potinière, Gullane, Scotland: Rum
Pannacotta
