Bistrot Bruno Loubet

Returning to London on a balmy April evening was very special, particularly as Cowie was able to join me for dinner at my hotel’s much hyped new restaurant, Bistrot Bruno Loubet. Many words have been written about Bruno Loubet’s return from gastronomic exile in Australia so I shan’t write about the subject. Especially as I am not geeky enough to have heard of him until very recently.

I hardly ever spend much time writing about the staff we encounter in restaurants apart from when we almost needed gas masks because of our waiter’s smelly pits in Belgos and the disastrous service at The Albany. But Bistrot Bruno Loubet deserves enormous amounts of praise for the front of house and for our waiter who was affectionately known as “The Chicken” by his colleagues. Between the two of them, they made us feel like the most important people in the room and took great pride in recommending their favourite dishes with the sort of enthusiasm that you know is genuinely because they love the food.

I also very rarely write about the design of restaurants, mainly because I am utterly unqualified to do so and partly because I normally get too excited about the food and blast on in. I really enjoyed the aesthetic experience of the restaurant. From the stylish royal blue and gold typography to the abundance of cool lamps, to the integration of the objets d’art into the menu, to the soft, textured leather wine list, the experience was thoughtfully composed. The only irritation was the way the lighting resulted in me eating in my own shadow. Maybe it’s just a quirk I’ve got, but it’s very offputting.

The menu here is the kind that makes you consider bulimia and wish you were wearing expandable trousers. Cowie and I negotiated for around quarter of an hour before deciding what to scoff.



Cowie’s skate terrine with Sauce gribiche was the sort of clean, bold and refreshing starter that such a fine evening warranted. It’s not a dish I’ve seen before but is one that’d I’d love to try again.



My snails with meatballs and mushroom mousse was as impressive as it sounds weird. The snails and meatballs made exceptionally good bedfellows. And the red wine sauce they were swimming in couldn’t have been any more French if it had cheated on its wife whilst surrendering to a baguette.



Cowie’s salmon confit was soft, slippery and quiveringly moreish. The juj of salad that came with it tasted not only of spring but also of Cowie’s platonic form of side dish.



My hare royale was like Wagner’s Flight of the Valkyries. It boomed with baroque flavour and rumbled with bass notes of rich meat. Lumps of foie gras studded the centre. Shards of pork belly jostled for position with the lumps of tough hare. And all was drenched under more heavy red wine sauce. Beneath lay some sweet pumpkin puree. And on top perched an undercooked ravioli containing an unknown filling. Whilst I’ve been critical about some of it’s technical flaws, it wasn’t half tasty. I'd just love to know what it’s like when it’s perfect.

By this point I felt like an inbox that’s reached it’s limit that keeps issuing quota warnings whenever you get a fresh email. So the only solution was to purge ourselves with a trio of ices. Raspberry sorbet was good, but was too deep, whilst rose water ice cream was perfect. But the passion fruit sorbet was far too sharp and needed an extra beehive of honey to counteract the acid. I wish I’d had space to try their Valrhona chocolate tart instead. Or some of their salted butter ice cream.

Whilst our meal wasn't utterly perfect, it was still very good and I’d love to return to test out more of the menu, especially some of the lighter dishes in the summer time, such as quail and pigeon. And also to indulge in their desserts. To appropriate the words of David Ogilvy, “advertising and PR can’t sell a bad product twice”, so it’s great that the hype around Bruno Loubet is well founded. It’s a great restaurant that fits the current trend towards nostalgia that we all need in a time of uncertainty and I look forward to dining here again.

P.S. When I checked in for breakfast I was told I had become the mayor of Bistrot Bruno Loubet on Foursqaure! Does that mean I get free champagne?

Other opinions:

The Guardian didn't like the hare dish
Evening Standard
Dos Hermanos
The Independent
Douglas was disappointed
Tom Eats Jen Cooks on Breakfast

Eating Eurovision, France - Illicit Ortolan in London

Of all the countries to pick in the Eating Eurovision competition, France is probably the most difficult. At first glance it's easy. But the more we thought about it the more cliched and expected our ideas were. I work for a French company and asked a French colleauge about French food. We circled around subjects such as truffles, sauscisse Lyonnaise and qunelles which were all fascinating. They all revolved around the cooking of Lyon and Dijon. We started talking about the fact that French people are so bonkers about food that they often take things too far. And that's when I remembered Ortolan.

The Ortolan is a small songbird that is nearing extinction thanks to being so tasty. French President, Mitterand ate two as his final meal before he died which you can read about on the Telegraph. It is thoroughly protected with poachers, chefs and greedy people all in line for a hefty fine or a long stretch in the clink if they fall prey to this "barbaric pleasure". The process of catching, preparing and eating Ortolan is very disturbing. First the songbird is caught using a net. Then the birds are placed in a dark box and force fed millet until they have quadruppled in size. Because they feed in the dark, they can't help themselves from gorging. Then they are drowned in a barrel of armagnac, plucked, trimmed a bit and then roasted in a ramekin for 8 minutes. If things weren't distrubing enough already, look away now.

The "ritual" of eating Ortolan is well documented. It involves covering your head in a towel (often emboidered especially) and eating the bird whole, sometimes inside a baked potato. As you bit through the bird the small bones lacerate your gums causing your blood to mix with the flesh of the bird. Apparently the flesh is moist and fatty whilst the innards are very gamey. The towel serves 4 purposes. From a practical point of view it hides the mess from everyone. From a "gourmet" point of view it keeps all the aromas close and provides a more sensual experience. From a pious approach it hides one's greed from God. And lastly, it allows for secrecy and protects such greedy gastronomes from being identified.

If you want to see what it's like, watch Clarkson on YouTube. Apparently, this programme received record complaints to the BBC. So don't watch it if you think you'll find it upsetting.



So we decided to recreate the Ortolan experience in London, to see what it feels like, without doing anything wrong. Sadly there are no Ortolan in London. But what we do have are Garden Warblers, who are very closely related.



Image from Mike Baird on Flickr.

We caught one in Regents Park, plucked it and then mascerated it in cognac before roasting it and serving it up in a baked potato. With a distinct absence of towels to cover me up, I used a Waitrose carrier bag instead.

Here's a step by step photographic re-enactment.













The overall experience was of deep shame and guilt, coupled with sore gums and a fear that I was going to suffocate.

Eating Ortolan is clearly very wrong indeed. But it does go a long way to capturing the essence of French food. Like the Chinese, if something has 2 wings and isn't a plane, it's going to get eaten. But will probably be more showy and have a few rituals thrown in as well.

Breakfast at Gazette in Balham

We're both big fans of Gazette. We've had many great experiences and forgive them their French brusqueness. We're lucky to have such a fun brasserie near by.

I have long been a fan of blackboards. I love the palimpsest effect that chalk leaves on the board. So when I found that Gazette now has slate table tops and little mugs of chalk I got very excited. For the rest of the review see below in black board format.



Our waitress recommended les ouef en cocotte which arrived in a cast iron saucepan with cherry tomato compote (I almost wrote compost) and dried basil. Fantastically generous portion of 3 eggs. It was so much fun digging into a saucepan. I guess this use of eclectic, rustic serving vessels is Gazette's trademark.

Cowie loved her madeline's. She always does. Drenched in honey they are stunningly hot and fresh. Springy and naughty.

It's pretty rare that I enjoy bills... but this one was great. It was as if the policeman from 'Allo 'Allo had written it - with our freshly squeezed orange juice reading as freshly squizzed. Genius.



Gazette have a policy of offering reviewers a free drink... so we left them with some Paunch graffiti so they would remember our free drink for next time!

Gazette comes to Balham

Back in October, we reviewed the Gazette restaurant in Battersea. A lovely, comforting French brasserie serving delicious French classics. So I was delighted when I discovered they had opened an identical eatery, right on our door step in Balham.

It has been open since March and it hasn't taken the locals long to recognise this is abit of winner. It might be half the size of its sister in Battersea, but it certainly makes up for it in personality.

On Saturday night, Browny and I rolled up at 9pm to see if they had a spare table. We fancied some no nonsense French grub and cosy romantic environment, and we certainly got it. It had a lovely relaxed atmosphere, music burbling along in the back ground and the modest space has been fitted out in sympathetic and romantic style.

Having guzzled a bowl of young green olives we tucked into our starters. I always find very hard to resist Moules whenever I see them on a menu, and these were fantastic. Huge plump juicy mussels and a liquor busting with ummph and flavour. Browny decided he was in need of a protein fix and opted for the beef tar tar. It arrived on a slab of wood with all its trimmings including the compulsory cracked egg on top. It was fabulous. The meat (false fillet) was tender, fresh, tasty and very meaty.. the portion was also absolutely vast!

Then came along our belated bread basket. And unfortunately for me it was fresh out of the oven and smelt heavenly. I simply couldn't keep my paws out and for someone who isn't supposed to eat wheat, I should have known better!

My flaky, roasted fillet of cod was a delight. Cooked to perfection and complimented by a root veggie combo, it ticked every box for me. Browny went for piglet. Well, I say piglet, it was actually a mere rib of a piglet which as you can imagine, isn't very substantial! But none the less it was beautifully moist and tender.

A few cheeky bowls of sumptuous ice cream with a Madeline each polished off a cracking supper. Feeling thoroughly satisfied and verging on the stuffed boundary, we woddled home and flopped into bed.

The only criticism was from my big sister, who must be one of the toughest food critics I know. If she gives something praise... my God it must be sublime! On her recent visit to Gazette she wasn't very enthusiastic about her squid risotto... But Browny and I couldn't help think this was a somewhat odd choice in a French restaurant! But having since gone back for Sunday brunch, she has not got a bad word to say about the place.

Balham should count its lucky stars that such a super little restaurant has found its way over to SW12.

Browny here: But better still they've got Wifi and if you write a review and send it to their email address they give you a free drink! Now if that isn't good blogger relations I don't know what is!

Further good news is that they are mid revamp of their basement which will feature a private dining area for 10/12 and an amazing wine cave. Bravo.

Gazette, Wandsworth

Browny's Taste of London card came up trumps yet again, by offering 50% off the food bill at this great local eatery. It's also another local favorite that we have been dying to try.

Nestled next to the Thames, Gazette offers something for everyone day or night. During the day you can settle in with a paper, fresh coffee, croissants and jam for breakfast, while for lunch you could be tempted by a selection of fresh sandwiches, crepes, salads and soups. Finally for dinner you can choose from main menu which consists of 8 daily specials (4 starters and 4 mains) plus an array of French classics such as moule marinere, prime steak, french onion soup.... the works. I also must not forget to mention the wine list... Truly a bible.

Browny and I came here with the rest of the Cowie team. Mum and Dad were staying in London for the night, so big sis and I decided to treat them.

The atmosphere was charming; attention staff, welcoming surroundings, subtle lighting and great furniture.... our table was a sheet of glass resting on a raburn oven!

The food was delicious. Simple, proper, classic, simply scrummy French nosh. To kick off the baked scallops were plump and succulent, the moule were vast as well as immersed in sumptuous liquor, the rabbit terrine was hearty and textured. As we were feeling peckish we also gobbled down a platter of cold meats... peppery, chewy, smokey.. ummm.. yum.


For main, the only minor disappointment was the baked cod. Somewhat uninspiring compared to the rest. I had a stunning venison fillet in a red wine and juniper berry sauce. Browny and Dad demolished a wonderful rare slab of steak, while Mum opted for the delicate and tender pigeon. The strong and solid flavours were perfect to welcome in the Autumn/winter season.

We were sorely tempted by the puds, but somehow managed to resist.. Gazette is famous for its creme brulee!

All in all I would highly recommend this great place. Its seems to provide the perfect balance; informality, style, cheerful staff, genuine and delicious food all at a reasonable price... especially when using the ToL card!

Food - 8
Service - 7
Atmosphere - 8
Reasonbaly priced

L'Atelier is AMAZING

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!

L'Atelier

Cowie and I are very excited indeed about our impending trip to L'Atelier...

Apparently it's a bit like a workshop. The food looks stunning. Although I'm not convinced we are going to leave feeling stuffed!

Le Boudin Blanc, Shepherd's Market

This fantastic french restaurant is certainly one that deserves to be on any foodie's hit list!

Situated in the the heart of Mayfair at Shepherd's Market, Le Boudin Blanc seemed to tick all the right boxes. Since this was a birthday treat for Browny, I was after a restaurant that was going to provide exquisite french food at a reasonable price, but in a relaxed and unpretentious environment. Le Boudin Blanc ( translated as the white sausage) didn't let us down.

After a long day in the office, we had a well earned gin and tonic soaking the evening sun in the market square. The place was buzzing with people who hard the same idea as us which created a lovely relaxed but vibrant atmosphere.

The restaurant itself is located up a narrow side street leading off the square. As we approached the venue I knew it was going to be a great evening. Sitting outside, diners were busy tucking into an array of exciting dishes, while others were happy merely watching the world go by with a delicious glass wine.

The divine smell of traditional french cuisine welcomed us inside and a charming waitress took us to our table. Despite it being pretty cosy, it wasn't intrusive; the lighting , setting with the subtle hum of conservation and laughter created a delightful ambiance.

The wine is always Browny's department... it was delicious.. he will enlighten you what it was.

As usual, I could have eaten everything on the menu and we needed a good 15 minutes to have any hope of drawing any conclusions! For starter I had classic fish soup with rouiie, croutons and Parmesan. The silkiness of the soup coupled with the intense depth of flavour made for a winning start. Or so I thought, until I tried a mouthful of Browny's fabulous crab ravioli. We both agreed this was one of the best starters we had ever had. The ratio of crab:pasta was 75:25... simply perfection.

'You can't go too far wrong ordering a rare fillet steak in a place like this.' These were Browny's infamous words as he tucked into his main course. And rare it was... a mild shade of blue would have been a better description; but it was superb. The knife had very little work to do as it glided through the faultless piece of meat. The side dishes of chips, peas with mint, cream and bacon plus spinach complimented the meal extremely well.

Having suffered a minor case of food envy during my first course, I was delighted with my rump of lamb. It was beautiful. Resting on a slab of aubergine, with celeriac mash, the rump was succulent, juicy, tender and oh so scrumpcious. I savoured everylast mouthful; I was sad to see it go.

Despite examining the delicious pudding menu we decided to call it a day there and finished with a coffee and petit four.

What a brilliant evening. Le Boudin Blanc oozes style, romance, class and supreme cooking.
A hidden gem that must be found.