C'etait magnifique!
My God L'Atelier is good. Cowie and I had a spellbinding meal sat at the bar overlooking the immaculate chefs making perfect cooking look like a piece of piss. We'd been planning to go here for a while.
Imagine a tepanyaki combined with a tapas restaurant which serves excuisite French food and you're there. It was such a chic restaurant that we felt like we were both multi billionaires. Our next door neighbour spent 2 hours telling her desperately unfortunate companion about her 5 million dollar divorce settlement and her alcoholic estranged husband who she still lives with... If you're reading this, you are a digusting, but enthralling individual!
We shared 4 mini starters which were all sublime. My favourite was the ravioli of langoustine and the 4 minute frogs legs. The ravioli was perfect. Silky, fine pasta and a rich, unctious sauce that encased soft, juicy scampy. Incredible. Frogs legs were battered and sat on little dabs of garlic and parsley sauce. I ate them bones and all which is how good I thought they were!
Our squid was delicious too. A tomato water sauce flecked with rich chorizo made for an excellent combination and looked very pretty on the plate whilst the vegetable confit was deep and flavoursome too.
Then things got fun. Our waiter wondered over to us with an entire side of sirloin and asked Cowie how much she wanted. Cowie gestured that she wanted a slice of beef the thickness of a forearm and that's what she got! Massive... but utterly gorgeous piece of rare steak. I challenge anyone to cook a better steak.
My quail was something else though. Stuffed with foie gois and seared on the hot plate it was tiny but filled me with the most fantastic feeling. It made life feel good. The whole world became a better place. Even the horrific woman next to us sounded like an angelic nun. And it got even better when I tucked into Joel Robuchon's famous mashed potato. Rumour has it it's 70% butter. Wow.
A plate of profiteroles saw me off for dessert. My teeth still haven't forgiven the fiendishly cold ice cream. Now, I don't want to offend my Dad who makes very good profiteroles, but, these were the best I'd ever had. Watching them pour an un civilised amount of chocolate on top of the mini mound made me feel like doing a lap of honour. Cowie's Chantreuse soufle was so spectacularly good I only allowed myself one mouthful. That was all I needed. Perfect.
What a brilliant restaurant. I utterly loved every moment we were there. Despite the most annoying woman in the world sitting next to us!
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