The eating continues - yesterday with a boozy lunch, evening drinks and dinner.
Lunch was on the waterfront at Canary Wharf at the Gaucho Grill - always reliable, slightly decadent due to the ponyskin chairs though unextraordinary this time - but the position, with clouds scudding over the water and shafts of wonderful golden December light, more than makes up for a lack of fireworks in the kitchen. Still, my ribeye was well-chosen, tender, and cooked rare - a treat compared to the invariably well-done and pale steaks in Alabama.
I lurched off, slightly tipsy, to have tea with another friend, trying to avoid offers of cake and maintaining an effort at sobriety for a few hours, before heading off to the 20th anniversary drinks at Clarke's, West London institution and still holding the flame for women in the kitchen and up front. Headed up by wonderful women, the restaurant (and now, bakery and shop) continues its great set-menu policy and produces fantastic, classic food. The gathering, of lovely friends and many representatives from the food-related disciplines, had predictably beautiful canapes with the champagne - wonderful rare tuna, duck liver pate on toast, light and crisp cod croquettes and other goodies.
I tried my hardest not to indulge too much, knowing what a good dinner I was in for later...when we crossed the road to another landmark of London's restaurant renaissance, Kensington Place. Many items on the menu haven't changed since it opened - its signature scallops with pea pureee and mint vinaigrette (much imitated but never beaten), the seared foie gras and and sweetcorn pancake, the baked tamarillos with icecream. But it's all still cooked precisely and incredibly well. I had the scallops, perfect as usual, and then grilled mackerel, lentils and salsa verde, another classic combination. My only gripe: I know that some people don't like to see the head on their fish, but a mackerel, even if served filleted, should surely not be cooked filleted, thus losing most of that delicious moistness that makes that fish so delicious. I always slightly feel like I'm shortchanged if I don't get the head and tail on my fish, but that's probably just me - but the habit of grilling fillets really seems absurd for a small fish. Also the salsa verde was a little dry for my liking, especially given the slightly dry fillets - these are small concerns, though my expectation of this place is that these things should always be right.
For pudding I continued my testing of quince desserts, with the baked quinces and mascarpone. They were pretty good, more quincy the the crumble at St John, but still over-seasoned with vanilla and a little dry - maybe too long baked on too low a heat rather than the more cripsy-caramelised on the outside, moist on the inside that I might have attempted to achieve. But still, small gripes - we all left highly satisfied and smiling. Nightcaps were at Loungelover, which pretty much sums up what I can't get in Alabama - elegant, deeply decadent cocktails, the beautiful people, over-the-top decor and all within walking distance of home. I plumped for mint juleps, as a memory of the cocktail that I should be drinking in Alabama but of course, I could never find.
Lunch was on the waterfront at Canary Wharf at the Gaucho Grill - always reliable, slightly decadent due to the ponyskin chairs though unextraordinary this time - but the position, with clouds scudding over the water and shafts of wonderful golden December light, more than makes up for a lack of fireworks in the kitchen. Still, my ribeye was well-chosen, tender, and cooked rare - a treat compared to the invariably well-done and pale steaks in Alabama.
I lurched off, slightly tipsy, to have tea with another friend, trying to avoid offers of cake and maintaining an effort at sobriety for a few hours, before heading off to the 20th anniversary drinks at Clarke's, West London institution and still holding the flame for women in the kitchen and up front. Headed up by wonderful women, the restaurant (and now, bakery and shop) continues its great set-menu policy and produces fantastic, classic food. The gathering, of lovely friends and many representatives from the food-related disciplines, had predictably beautiful canapes with the champagne - wonderful rare tuna, duck liver pate on toast, light and crisp cod croquettes and other goodies.
I tried my hardest not to indulge too much, knowing what a good dinner I was in for later...when we crossed the road to another landmark of London's restaurant renaissance, Kensington Place. Many items on the menu haven't changed since it opened - its signature scallops with pea pureee and mint vinaigrette (much imitated but never beaten), the seared foie gras and and sweetcorn pancake, the baked tamarillos with icecream. But it's all still cooked precisely and incredibly well. I had the scallops, perfect as usual, and then grilled mackerel, lentils and salsa verde, another classic combination. My only gripe: I know that some people don't like to see the head on their fish, but a mackerel, even if served filleted, should surely not be cooked filleted, thus losing most of that delicious moistness that makes that fish so delicious. I always slightly feel like I'm shortchanged if I don't get the head and tail on my fish, but that's probably just me - but the habit of grilling fillets really seems absurd for a small fish. Also the salsa verde was a little dry for my liking, especially given the slightly dry fillets - these are small concerns, though my expectation of this place is that these things should always be right.
For pudding I continued my testing of quince desserts, with the baked quinces and mascarpone. They were pretty good, more quincy the the crumble at St John, but still over-seasoned with vanilla and a little dry - maybe too long baked on too low a heat rather than the more cripsy-caramelised on the outside, moist on the inside that I might have attempted to achieve. But still, small gripes - we all left highly satisfied and smiling. Nightcaps were at Loungelover, which pretty much sums up what I can't get in Alabama - elegant, deeply decadent cocktails, the beautiful people, over-the-top decor and all within walking distance of home. I plumped for mint juleps, as a memory of the cocktail that I should be drinking in Alabama but of course, I could never find.
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