L'esprit de l'escalier
ONE HAS to force oneself to refrain from making all the obvious jokes when review- ing a restaurant called L'esprit de l'escalier. And I will. Anand Sastry, most recently of the Argyll in King's Road, has chosen the name to denote an actual escalier — the one which leads down to the basement din- ing-room of his new outpost. 'Inspiration coming down the staircase' is his free inter- pretation. There's something quite dated in the jaunty appellation: it conjures up the days of ménage a trois and all that contem- porary, adjective-rich archness.
It is perhaps no coincidence that chef Sastry's cooking owes something to that period too, even though, at 30, he is rather on the young side to have much of a memo- ry of it. But he's worked in the kitchens of Michel Guerard and Raymond Blanc, at Inigo Jones, Harvey's and the Connaught: the pedigree shows, if not quite in the cali- bre of his creations — yet — but certainly in the flourish with which they are fash- ioned. Most tellingly, perhaps, he has worked in a country house hotel and the mud has stuck. This is the first time in ages that I've come across all that silver dome caper, at least in London. Though, actually, I remember they do still go in for it at Le Gavroche, but respectable formality is not the same as a touch of the Lynda Snells.
The food, which quivers expectantly under those gleaming helmets, is refresh- ingly utterly unlike the stuff which turns up in every other newly opened restaurant these days. The influence — as one might guess given the chef's career trajectory so far — is decidedly French. No polenta will pass through the portals of his kitchen. True, there's some pasta, but it's about as unItalian as you could get.
At dinner there's a set menu, £24.50 for two courses, £29.50 for three (lunch, too, is a prix-fixe affair, though cheaper), which is a stress-reducing way of going about things. Ravioli of foie gras with sauternes sauce was a new way with an old pairing, which would have worked better had the pasta not been undercooked. I must say, I'm always put out when a menu states ravioli so that I anticipate ravioli and then what comes is one raviolo or, rather, raviolone. Tortellini of snails with creamed garlic was a brilliant idea, but the garlic, puréed with potatoes, was so gluey (it's the food-proces- sor, always a killer), so floury, that it looked and tasted like an inadequately cooked roux.
The yellow gunk turned up again in the next course, this time nestling under a pile of pig's cheek and trotter. In fact, this time it was a celeriac puree, but again the blades of the food-processor had done their worst The porcine stew, velvety and sweet, was, however, a salve. Roast halibut came with a dark sauce of squid ink and a shellfish risotto which maybe, too, was just on the glutinous side, and perhaps too intensely salty: but the whole worked; or, rather, the intention was apparent — and convincing.
For pudding, the two most ludicrous- sounding items were obvious choices. Cap- puccino of saffron brill& turned out to be a demi-tasse (which properly speaking should contain an espresso rather than a cappuccino) made out of brandy-snap' biscuit filled with an eggy froth masquerad" ing as the coffee. The saffron gave it an almost sickly blandness which attracted Ma quite as much as it repelled me, though the sight of more yellow goo was almost too much. Lemon tart with vodka and celerY sorbet was a provocative notion. The legion tart was magnificent and appeared on the plate, under its powdery skin of icing sugar, like a ripe and bulging brie. The sorbet didn't not work, but it did taste like s° much striving after effect, and the tart needed no embellishment.
The wine list was unfathomable. There were no prices and the waiter said that was because everything was just cost plus 10 per cent, or some such. I presume one day there will be prices on it. Still, we had _,0 couple of glasses of champagne in the vel.Ti beautiful bar and three glasses of perfeeliY OK white Crozes Hermitage while we are' With a pretty meagre tip, dinner for lw° came to £100. The place had been open for a couple cif days when I went, and no doubt needs thne to get into its stride, so it's too early to Pass anything but a cautious judgment. But I ri° feel that, for all my quibbles, it is worth 3 visit, though I'm not sure the chef will ever be quite A-team material.
L'esprit de l'escalier: 34 Brook Street, L011. don Wl; tel 071 6292471.
Nigella Lawson
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