FOUR : Four O Nine

She says...

Everything is revolving around our trip to Peru. Being a thoroughly urban type these days I don't possess such things as hiking boots and a rain jacket, so, after a Facebook shout out, kind friends offered to lend me theirs. A trip South of the River was organised last weekend to gather the goods, and whilst we're there, coz like it doesn't happen often, we decided to go to the Clapham restaurant recommended after another FB post, by old acquaintance Claire. I haven't actually spoken to her for about 7 years. Funny what things people respond to on Facebook.

Getting out at Clapham North tube station bought back memories of the time I did used to speak to Claire regularly, when we were part of the same posse that revolved around my then boyfriend, Dave. I think one of this group of ex-High Wiycombers actually lived at the other end of Landor Road where the restaurant is located.

It's handily right opposite the tube - an inconspicuous doorway with an intercom. Once buzzed in, like spies, we were welcomed at the top of the stairs by friendly and professional staff, and seated in the warm and stylish half full dining room. This being Sunday there was an offer of 2 courses for £20, 3 for £24. It all looked delicious, and the same dishes are available on the al a carte at considerably more expense.


I started with the crispy baby artichoke with marinated black olives and parsley & pine nut puree. My only gripe was that it was a very small portion and I was starving, having waived breakfast! Lovely contrast of textures, and perfectly judged combinations of sweet and slightly sour. Matt was equally impressed with his fois gras and chicken liver parfait and tomato chutney. His slab of smooth and creamy parfait was enormous though, so of course I had to help him finish it.

 

For the main course I veered away from the Sunday lunch tradition and ordered hake with gnocchi. The light, perfectly cooked fish was a bit of a strange contrast to the gluttonous stuffed gnocchi and perhaps a bit over salted, but still bloody lovely. Matt again lucked out in the portion size department. But then he is a big boy. The proper Sunday roast option was a huge slice of medium rare sirloin steak, veg and Yorkshire pudding.

I was the only one with a dessert-shaped hole to fill so ordered poached apple with ginger semifreddo mousse. Not sure which of us ate more of it.

A nice selection of wines by the glass meant I could pretend to be restrained for once with one glass of a lovely rounded Sauvingon Blanc (Domaine Vauvy, Torraine, France 2010) whilst Matt could experiment with 2 different Argentinian reds: Malbec, La Chamiza ‘Polo Amateur’ Mendoza 2010, and Vinedos de la Posada Merlot Fair-Trade, La Rioja, Argentina 2010. All at £7.

The cocktails also sounded enticing, and the two seperate groups of six lads of a certain age (early thirties probably, maybe rugger buggers) were taking full advantage of the cocktail of the day - a Pornstar Martini. An intriguingly incongruous choice I thought, and clearly as close to seedy sex shenangigins as those boys were going to be allowed to get on a Sunday lunchtime in Clapham.

As I wrote on their feedback card in the hope of winning a return visit - it's not cheap, but it is absolutely value for money. Enough of a treat to make it a destination restaurant, but casual enough that we felt comfortable reading the papers over lunch. I wish I lived closer and could call it my local. Thanks Claire; if we get as far as needing a restaurant for number four hundred and nine we'll definitely be back.

Restaurant #4: 9/10


He says...

Loitering on the litter-strewn Clapham North street corner waiting for them to buzz us through the locked door, I felt as though we were about to make an illicit backstreet deal rather than eat a pleasant Sunday lunch.

But this is the way they do things at the exclusive-feeling Four O Nine, which appropriately won the 2010 ‘Hidden Gem’ restaurant award. Climbing the stairs to find elegant décor and welcoming staff rather than a damp bedsit was a relief, despite the curious locally-themed wallpaper featuring images of road signs directing us to Stockwell.

Kat noted with interest that the place was mainly filled with groups of men, which did give it a confusing air of blokey boozer meets mildly romantic eaterie.

After nibbles topped with taramosalata, I have the best (and probably cruellest) thing I’ve eaten this year, beating even the Peruvian chocolate that Kat brought home a few weeks ago: a foie gras and chicken liver parfait with tomato chutney and toast, which tasted so good with Argentinian Malbec that my brain shuddered orgasmically with every mouthful.

After eating about half of the soft block and finding that its subtle yet strangely overpowering flavours just tasted better and better, I entered into a period of giddy enthusiasm, buoyed by mouthfuls of good wine. Like all the best food it had me considering the arrangement of taste buds on my tongue.

As I stuffed slices of parfait on toast into Kat’s mouth whilst praising its velvety smoothness, I wondered whether I was being annoying, and perhaps even showing naiveté by being so excited about what is probably a fairly ordinary parfait.

Almost overcome already, my main course arrives, and once again I feel like the victor in this two-halved game of food:  roast sirloin with roast potatoes, carrot fondue, greens, Yorkshire pudding and red wine jus. The beef comes in enormous juicy slabs, edged with yellow chunks of fat and sat on the creamy carrot fondue - the perfect accompaniment. The meal was a rare combination of quantity and quality on a plate.

Kat’s hake with gnocchi looked very sorry by comparison. As did Kat, whose last-minute addition of poached apple did little to redress the balance. Matt 2 – Kat 0.

Restaurant #4: 9/10

At fours and fives.. and nines...

She says...

No, no you're wrong! I heard about Le Manoir positively years ago! *gets off high horse*

Anyway we've now roped in one lot of parents, setting them the task of finding a restaurant somewhere in Cheshire with five in the title for when we come up bearing gifts, Santa-stylee, before our trip to South America. Which means number four has to be between now and then... Decisions need to be made!

Another option for four that's come up in my google searches is this place - a Greek restaurant in central London called The Four Lanterns. Too similar to the Turkish belly dancing place in location and cuisine (what! cry all our Greek and Turkish followers in outrage - our food is as different as our debt crisises!) I think for us this time. Claiming to be near Madame Tussauds I'm more interested in its proximity to Urban Outfitters on Oxford Street, and am definitely going to bear it in mind for a cheap and cheerful after-shopping eatery.

Looking further down the timeline, I've come across this inviting looking place for future number nine. I could eat the herb crusted whatever-meat-it-is pictured on the home page right now in fact.


A good excuse for a jaunt to Stratford Upon Avon; it's been a, wrinkle-forming, long time since I numbed my bum watching Romeo & Juliet there whilst on a school trip. Be nice to refresh the progressively patchy memory.

The sinister side of organic food

He says...

Kat seems to have forgotten that it was I who told her about Le Manoir Aux Quat'Saisons, after a PR-type person (not for the restaurant, I hasten to add) informed me that they make amazing Sunday roasts entirely out of locally-sourced meat and vegetables.

However, I have recently discovered a more sinister side to organic food. On Sunday we went for lunch at our friends' house, where we sampled the vegetables that had been brought back from a parental garden in Wales. This included a disturbing conjoined carrot, with five twisted carrot-fingers growing from a sort of carrot-palm. It was similar to the gnarled right hand of The Elephant Man Joseph Merrick, and has haunted me a little ever since.

One benefit of the Chinese restaurant The Four Seasons is that at least the vegetables would be chopped into thin strips, utterly disimilar to the horrifically-deformed claw of a Victorian side show freak. But on the down side, I've already eaten there.

However, I'm intrigued by the Four O Nine in Clapham North. Apparently diners are required to buzz the doorbell then give their name before they are granted access, which is just how I imagine it works at the swingers' club up the road from our flat.

Finding four...

She says...

Hummm looking back at my review of Les Trois Garcons I feel I might have been a little unfair. Two weeks later I now know that I was just at the start of a long horrible cold, which could have dulled my taste buds, and obviously it was only a 'special' tasting menu we enjoyed, so the a la carte could still be incredible.


I remember thinking it was all very yummy last time I went, although the memory of the food on that visit is over-shadowed by the fact I spent most of the meal debating with my fellow diner whether we had the balls to complain about the wine, which tasted rank. Turns out it WAS corked, or in some way wrong. The waiter was horrified how much we'd drunk of it, whisked it away and gave a us a whole replacement bottle. However, I immediately thought I had stomach ache from the odd chemicals I imagined swimming around my glass of wine. Moi et Les Trois Gracons, then... a difficult relationship it has to be said.


Anyway, onwards and upwards. How far? Well, how about this little place? It definitely fulfills my desire to venture further afield, being just off the M40 near Oxford. It was opened in 1984 and, according to the website - 'a year later it was awarded two Michelin stars, which it has now held for a remarkable 28 years'.

Wouldn't it be nice to be able to afford the six course tasting menu at Raymond Blanc's Le Manoir Aux Quat'Saisons.





Back to reality and this Chinese could be a good option. A nice change from fancy French food anyway. I think one of my previous bosses might have raved about this place as both of them lived in the Bayswater/Queensway area of London. It was also suggested more recently by one of our co-diners at Les Trois Garcons, whose impeccable taste I'd always follow if having a gastronomic dilemma. Looks a little shabby though to be honest, Clara.

More suggestions please!

THREE: Les Trois Garcons

She says...

As with many popular high-end restaurants Les Trois Garcons has two distinct sittings - the 'panic dash from work' early one, and the 'I'm not hungry now, because I had to have a snack to keep me going' late one. We went for 6:45pm, and I was keenly reminded that they would need the table back by 8:45pm sharp. I was 15 minutes late. Arghh! We've now only got one hour 45 minutes to complete six courses! Quick, where's the starter?

The first thing to arrive was the ubiquitous amuse bouche - a warm swirl of pasta with a mushroomy froth. I (in stark contrast to what Matt says below) found it fresh and full of flavour. A good start; the conversation and the yummy Argentinian Malbec (a reasonable £28 find from a long and varied wine list) started flowing.

The following dishes though, failed to break through our chatter. The starter proper, two styles of fois gras, lacked imagination. I couldn't help comparing it unfavourably to a meal we'd enjoyed with the same couple, at Odettes, in Primrose Hill. There the fois gras was teamed with roasted wood pigeon, pickled cherries, chocolate and vanilla salt - a sensational concoction that bounced around the mouth.

Back to The Three Frenchmen and the razor clam with melted cheese raised an approving ooooo from me, but the accompanying monkfish and strangely crunchy lump of potato had no zing. The venison course that came afterwards was tastless and lukewarm, with no tongue-pleasing combination of flavours. Perhaps foodie burglars had stolen the seasoning from the kitchen?

Oh no, clearly all the salt had been wasted on the square potato croquet nestling under the meat. Blurghh, so saline I had to immediately gulp some water. Even the chocolate dessert failed to live up to its decadent promise. The sweet red wine (a Maury from the Pyrenees) the waitress suggested as an accompaniment was intriguing, but underwhelming as well.

Despite the alert service, always on hand with refills of tap water, there's something a bit lacklustre about the restaurant and its food. The room is still beautifully quirky, with more handbags hanging from the ceiling than chandeliers, and one of the owners actually walked through the restaurant early on with the real life dalmatians that are immortalised in the giant portrait on the wall  (interview with Les Trois Garcons).

But it now feels like a dusty antique shop in need of a spring clean. I guess we should have been wary of the hint of desperation that putting offers on a voucher site gives off, and I left feeling mighty glad we hadn't paid the normal £60 for the tasting menu. However, we hadn't in actual fact had the normal tasting menu, and we hadn't really had six courses! One of the three fish/meat courses advertised on the website was missing. In its place we'd had a slim plate of petit fours.

Bit of a swizz really, rescued only by great company. The fact we discussed everything else - from holidays in Nicaragua and copyright law to the recent rise in the motorway speed limit - rather than the food, is telling I think! On the plus side, after all the emphasis on clock-watching, we never felt rushed, and were still at the table at 9:10pm being asked if we wanted coffee. The room was more than half empty by now, clearly not over-subscribed; but then it was a Monday night.

So not quite the dining outing I'd hoped for, and, as an experience is always judged against expectations, I'm not sure it justified the final bill of £56 each (wine, coffee and service were added to the prepaid £30 food offer).

Restaurant #3 = 5/10

He says...

As we were taken to our table, I noticed a tiger wearing a crown towering over a dining couple, while nearby a monkey was sat happily displaying his genitalia to the well-heeled guests of Hassan, Michel and Stefan - les trois garcons themselves.

The three restaurateurs have been bringing their brand of quirky dishevelled glamour to diners for over ten years, having built a loyal fanbase with signature French-influenced dishes and Alice in Wonderland decor.

But it could have been that Monday evening vibe (or that the redirected Heathrow flights had woken Kat and I too early that morning), but there was a tiredness to the proceedings.

The first discovery was that our grubby little vouchers proffered to the maitre d’ bought us a special tasting menu – not the one I eagerly noted on the website that featured Gressingham duck breast and Nori crusted Scottish scallops. No, this was a tasting menu that sadly lacked taste.

The pasta amuse bouche was vaguely mushroomy. Very vaguely. The Venison with red fruity sauce and two pretty girolle mushrooms was also surprisingly flavourless.

Even the slab of milk and white chocolate smeared with melted chocolate sauce – which should have elicited wild pronouncements of adoration – only got a mention at our table because the accompanying biscuit contained the popping candy that the kids at my school used to throw on the floor and then jump on to create loud crackling noises.

But the fois gras - both as pate and smokily pan-fried in Sauternes - collided well with the Argentinian Malbec. And the cube of monkfish fillet was meatily satisfying, although its accompanying razor clam with cheese let the side down.

A tasting menu should be something that surprises, delights and sparks discussion, but sadly my bouche was not amused.

Apparently either Hassan, Michel or Stefan passed by our table at one point, but I failed to notice, perhaps still mesmerised by the flashing monkey. Either that, or these trois garcons have become part of the furniture.

Time to follow the monkey, and show some bollocks?

Restaurant #3 = 7/10

Tasting menus

He says...

As one of our guests has said, six courses in under two hours is going to be like an extreme sport. Although to deem the by-now-ubiquitous amuse bouche an actual 'course' is pushing it a little. I'll be surprised if it surpasses the amuse bouche we received in the restaurant attached to our hotel in Italy the other week: a whole cup of caviar.

But this does all look rather good - especially the 'Seared Gressingham Duck Breast and slow cooked cabbage wrapped leg served with girolles, sugarsnaps and orange jus' - or Duck a l'orange as it was once known.

Unlike Kat, I've never eaten here, although I did once go to the Lounge Lover bar next door, which, unusually for a bar, doesn't have a bar. You just kind of casually hang around until a waiter asks you if you want a drink. Bit disconcerting really, but that's Shoreditch for you.

Number three is decided...

She says...

We've decided! With a little help from voucher people Groupon.

Having contemplated our less than perfect short list for a few weeks, I then got an email from Groupon advertising the 6 course tasting menu at Les Trois Garcons (see his previous post) for half price - £60 for 2 people instead of £120. Well one couldn't refuse, could one? After a hasty email inviting other friends to join us, our partners in gastronomic adventure, Joe & Clara, also got their voucher just before the deadline.

Les Trois Garcons fails on 2 of my accounts; I've already been there (albeit about 5 years ago) and it's inside Zone 2. But the thought of eating mini portions of posh French food overseen by a stuffed tiger, at HALF PRICE, more than outweighed these minor concerns. Although I hope I don't get corked wine this time.



Now, just need to get a booking before the 999 other voucher holders get in there before us.