The 12 most expensive restaurants in The Good Food Guide Published 16 August 2023
These 12 restaurants are some of the best-rated in The Good Food Guide and boldly blast through the £200 barrier. And that’s before a drink and the service charge. In return, you’ll enjoy the relaxed expertise of front-of-house staff and the evident brilliance of chefs who regularly display flashes of culinary genius.
High-end Chinese cooking, alluring flavours and bags of creativity
Since 2012, Andrew Wong’s Pimlico restaurant has re-defined high-end Chinese dining not only in the UK but, arguably, for anywhere outside Asia. The no-choice, 30-dish tasting menu takes inspiration from far and wide –… Read more
Since 2012, Andrew Wong’s Pimlico restaurant has re-defined high-end Chinese dining not only in the UK but, arguably, for anywhere outside Asia. The no-choice, 30-dish tasting menu takes inspiration from far and wide – Hong Kong for the dim sum, Shaanxi province for the bao, Anhui for the fermented wild sea bass – but the result is unmistakably Wong’s own vision, not least in its striking presentation. A martini glass suspended over ice, for instance, contains finely chopped green beans spiked with wasabi soy encased by a quivering shell of osmanthus jelly, while ribbons of tofu wave in a limpid soup like the fronds of a sea anemone.
At its best, Wong’s cooking melds astonishing creativity with the most alluring of flavours and sublime contrasts of textures, everything held in a delicate balance by the surest of touches. Consider a candied walnut stuck onto a trio of honey-roast roast pork slices, each daubed with gravy to glue onto shavings of frozen foie gras, grated as finely as sherbet; or wagyu tartare, presented in a caviar tin and adorned with shards of crisp potato, its chilli heat balanced by the citrus jolt of yuzu when dolloped onto a barely-there ‘pancake’ of pear.
Wong’s contemporary interpretation of Chinese cooking is so compelling that when a faultless nugget of sweet-and-sour chicken arrives (an affectionate nod to his parents’ Cantonese restaurant, Kym’s), it feels like an uninvited old friend gatecrashing the party. At £200 a head for food, however, it is not unreasonable to expect this level of perfection throughout, and our most recent meal fell short of that. There were basic errors (prawns not properly shelled) and some dishes tasted of very little at all – even if they looked lovely (cheung fun refashioned as an inside-out wafer of pork or an al dente roll of Peking duck, for example).
Overall, we longed for more nuance to the flavours rather than an insistent, unremitting savouriness. These criticisms might have been easier to stomach had there been more charm to the service. Empty plates were whisked away with lickety-split haste, a neighbouring table was brought Pouilly-Fumé not Fuissé, and being moved to the empty bar to eat dessert in solitude seemed ungracious while our seat upstairs was filled with the next round of punters.
Perhaps we visited on a rare off-night; certainly, the advance planning required to secure a table here (or a seat at the counter, with its direct view into the kitchen) indicates there is no shortage of takers.
The new decorative look at Core has worked wonders. What was an underused bar space is now Whiskey & Seaweed (named for its signature cocktail), and the dining room has had quite the 'glow-up' too. The expansive space is bathe… Read more
The new decorative look at Core has worked wonders. What was an underused bar space is now Whiskey & Seaweed (named for its signature cocktail), and the dining room has had quite the 'glow-up' too. The expansive space is bathed in bronze light, with candles performing their age-old office of making a restaurant table look inviting, and at the centre of it all is a striking column, loaded with uplit glassware. So far, so chic. An army of staff is on permanent manoeuvres, yet without making the place feel like a parade-ground. Efficiency and discretion are as finely judged as is consistent given the ambitious context, with just enough friendly chat to ensure civility. As for Clare Smyth's food, the first thing to say is that, for a venue operating in this bracket, it has an uncommonly solid following of regulars. Call them the core of Core. As soon as the nibbles appear, one can see why: a truffled pumpkin gougère; a lobster roll; a caviar sandwich, all sublime. Bread is made with Wessex flour and served with whipped buttermilk. Dishes from the full menu are capable of balancing sparkling freshness and delicate textures – just consider the Isle of Harris scallop tartare in sea-vegetable consommé, the shell sitting proud on a mound of flora. A more assertive fish pairing sees roasted cod honour-guarded with Morecambe Bay shrimps and Swiss chard in brown butter. Tour the home nations with a main course of Rhug Estate venison, which comes with a refined (ie offal-free) 'haggis' of the leg meat and bacon on pearl barley in an ambrosial sauce of 16-year-old Lagavulin single malt. If it's internal organs you're after, look to the crisp-fried veal sweetbread dressed in honey and mustard, with a serving of Norfolk kohlrabi. Desserts incorporate what might be considered the local option, Notting Hill Forest – a trompe-l'oeil pile of ‘fallen leaves’ made of ceps, chocolate, pine and woodruff on nutty crémeux, in which are embedded little shards of millefeuille pastry, to give the acoustic effect of crunching through autumn leaf-litter. And then one stumbles on a prune soaked in Earl Grey tea. Dinner ends with a little tableside tasting of Irish whiskey. A magnificent wine list covers pairing options, as well as an inspired glass selection (from £12), before graduating to the great and the very great of the vinous globe.
High-end contemporary cuisine with a big personality
In 2019, Brazilian chef Rafael Cagali took over the high-profile dining room in Bethnal Green’s Town Hall Hotel (formerly home to Lee Westcott’s Typing Room and Nuno Mendes’ Viajante), and Da Terra has been on an… Read more
In 2019, Brazilian chef Rafael Cagali took over the high-profile dining room in Bethnal Green’s Town Hall Hotel (formerly home to Lee Westcott’s Typing Room and Nuno Mendes’ Viajante), and Da Terra has been on an impressive upward curve ever since. Compared to the early days, it now feels as if he’s giving us more of himself. We see his personality in the bold abstract art on the walls, the kitsch Ninja Turtle figures at the pass, and the painted wood sculptures on the mantelpiece. And, of course, we see it in his cuisine.
Cagali, born in São Paulo to a part-Italian family, has said he doesn’t want Da Terra to be categorised as Brazilian. However, it’s the Brazilian-influenced dishes that really set it apart. Moqueca, a traditional fish stew – served midway through the full-on tasting menu – is first presented as a large copper pot filled with okra, whole langoustines, coriander and limes. When it’s returned for us to eat, it has morphed into an elegant restaurant dish of aged turbot (cooked fashionably lightly, dare we say too lightly?) with palm hearts and farofa (toasted cassava) in a frothy coconut sauce, stained yellow with dendê palm oil. Whole biquinho teardrop chillies, fiery and fruity, come on the side. Other Brazilian touches include a palate-awakening baby caipirinha in a hollowed-out lime; slices of raw Arctic char acidulated with tucupi (a fermented manioc root juice, widely used in the Amazon); and a take on the traditional 'Romeo & Juliette', a sweet-savoury love match of fresh cheese and guava.
Cagali’s Italian heritage comes to the fore in a debonair duck raviolo (course eight) with whey sauce, duck skin crumb, and slivers of duck ‘ham’, grand on its own gold-rimmed Wedgwood plate. A signature entitled 'the humble chicken', is barely recognisable from its 2019 iteration, but for the impeccably, rosy-pink liver parfait. The updated version has a yakitori skewer of thigh and heart, a boned-out puffed-up fried chicken’s foot and a confit egg yolk. To nitpick, the heart had lost most of its heat by the time we got to it. The individual dishes served over three hours were near faultless; taken collectively, however, they defeated us. Fish roe four times – Cagali likes his caviar – is nothing less than Lucullan. A shorter menu is available at lunch.
The wine list impresses with its well-judged choice of low-intervention heroes including Friuli’s Dario Princic, Vega Sicilia from Ribera del Duero, and Fanny Sabre in Burgundy. Service is absolutely first-rate.
* Following an extensive six-month refurb, the restaurant will re-open on 17 September 2024, with the promise of a 'more immersive and personal omakase experience'. Live bookings from 17 August.*
It feels very ‘Tokyo’… Read more
* Following an extensive six-month refurb, the restaurant will re-open on 17 September 2024, with the promise of a 'more immersive and personal omakase experience'. Live bookings from 17 August.*
It feels very ‘Tokyo’ to sit down to sushi in an eighth-floor restaurant looking down over the twinkling lights of a shopping mall. But Shepherd’s Bush isn’t Shinjuku, as third-generation sushi chef Endo Kazutoshi reminds us with his exceptional 20-course omakase experience based on spectacular seafood sourced almost exclusively from the British Isles.
As guests make their way up in the lift, a slab of tuna from Cornwall awaits. But first, deliciously firm udon from Okinawa, anointed with bottarga and seaweed oil. The aforementioned tuna, in a seaweed sandwich so crisp it snaps in the mouth, is Endo-san’s ‘business card’, his signature. Later on, a handroll involving creamy, briny Icelandic uni (sea urchin) is even better. The menu (and the specially commissioned soundscape) changes with the seasons. To single out some key dishes, we have to mention the chawanmushi – a slippery savoury custard with Orkney scallops, trout roe, crispy lotus root and a sauce made of 20 Cornish lobsters (like bisque to the power of 100).
Other highlights roll off the tongue: the Tokyo-style Irish oyster nigiri, brushed with soy sauce passed down by Endo-san’s master; an Orkney scallop, sweet and buttery, set against the warm rice from Endo-san’s own farm and the salt of the generous Tibetan caviar garnish; and a sublime simmered 'takiawase' of sesame tofu, mussels and yam. Only a few dishes fail to land: a ‘main course’ of wagyu with porcini and Brussels sprouts is lukewarm by the time it reaches us, while a koji brûlée gains nothing from the addition of popping candy.
There’s no question that this is among the capital’s best Japanese restaurants but quiet luxury does not come cheap. It’s £250 per person, paid in advance, and that's before drinks and 15% service are added on the day. To justify the cost (not that our fellow diners look like they need to), the experience is perhaps best viewed as a particularly well rehearsed, produced and choreographed piece of theatre performed over three hours. And like a true star, Endo-san even signs your menu at the end of proceedings.
Whatever you make of the narrative twists and turns (is choosing your own chopsticks fun or pointlessly twee?), it’s impossible not to be captivated by the master, eyes closed like a concert pianist, forming perfect mouthfuls of sushi that you will very likely remember for a long time to come.
Despite the gushing water feature on Carlos Place, the Connaught remains a redoubt of hotel tradition, still at the centre of a turbulent West End. Its principal dining room has been under the aegis of Hélène Darroze… Read more
Despite the gushing water feature on Carlos Place, the Connaught remains a redoubt of hotel tradition, still at the centre of a turbulent West End. Its principal dining room has been under the aegis of Hélène Darroze for 14 years now, undergoing cosmetic surgery in 2019 to turn it from something that still felt like a gentlemen's club to a lighter, more appealing space with tan leather banquettes and subdued illumination. Numerous staff patrol the territory with impeccable precision, smart as soldiers and twice as friendly, contributing to the sense of occasion that the seasonally shifting menus promise. There is just enough variation to permit some choosing: pairs of options at some stages (though one always has a supplement), a sliding scale for the overall number of courses. Wine flights also ascend through the financial levels, from here on earth to ya-ya. If there was occasionally a feeling in the past that the fit wasn't quite comfortable – like those new shoes that pinch a little – the transformation in recent years has been remarkable. Darroze is at the top of her game, offering dishes that astonish with their complexity and stirring depth of flavour. Paimpol coco beans and smoked eel, seasoned with Nepalese timut pepper and bathed in clam consommé, was a magnificent opening statement on the 'Taste of Autumn' menu, followed by ceps in pasta cups with a snail, some guanciale and roasted cobnuts. A dish lid is whisked away to engulf the diner in the aromas of burnt hay, the basis of a foaming sauce for a piece of lobster tail, with two superb condiments – a sweet-and-sour gel and vivid green tarragon purée. The main event might be Rhug lamb dressed in ras el hanout with apricot and spelt. Less spectacular, but still good, was the breast of guinea fowl stuffed with duck liver and accompanied by braised Roscoff onion. A pre-dessert of peach with nasturtiums then paves the way for, perhaps, Mekonga chocolate in buckwheat tea or the signature baba, doused in one of Darroze's bespoke vintage Armagnacs, with raspberries and peppered crème fraîche. There has sometimes been a feeling that the grand hotels have lost a little ground in the rip-tide of contemporary cooking that has overtaken the capital. Not here. This is a kitchen in turbo-charge.
Jeremy Chan has settled into his new surroundings in a tucked-away corner of the huge brutalist building that is 180 Strand. The entrance is discreet and the dining room dominated by an open kitchen that runs down one long side, w… Read more
Jeremy Chan has settled into his new surroundings in a tucked-away corner of the huge brutalist building that is 180 Strand. The entrance is discreet and the dining room dominated by an open kitchen that runs down one long side, while the decoration is nothing more than earthy colours, some golden wood (including the well-spaced tables) and the ambient dusk of a hip restaurant. Without design, fireworks or ornamentation, it is what it is: a space devoted to the service of food. The previous location in St James’s Market was known for its Nigerian-inspired cooking – Ikoyi is the name of a well-to-do Lagos suburb. The kitchen still takes its cue from West African cuisine, but this is merely the jumping-off point for a repertoire of precise, produce-led westernised dishes with prices very much in line with the international clientele. From the three-hour-long tasting menu at dinner, a veal sweetbread with pea purée, pork cheek and black garlic was the undoubted standout, closely followed by dry-aged turbot with a frothy crab bisque and umami-rich egusi (melon seed) miso – though the tiny accompanying honey-glazed brioche filled with veg added nothing to the dish and was not well thought through (it was so sticky, we had to ask for wipes). What tantalises is how Chan blends each flavour with the one preceding it, and the one about to come. His careful use of chilli, a subtle hint of heat that lingers gently on the palate, infuses snacks and early courses, building to a crescendo with the final beef offering where two dabs of purée (agrodolce and curried courgette) pack a real punch. Look a little deeper, however, and some flaws are evident: that beef (dry-aged Belted Galloway) proved surprisingly chewy, and the accompanying jollof rice – the classic West African one-pot dish that is a regular fixture on the menu – was made slightly too sweet and creamy with a lobster custard. And while a palate-cleansing timur pepper and rosé sorbet was utterly delicious, desserts are clearly not the kitchen’s forte. Service, however, is faultless. Wines are chosen with spice in mind – we drank an excellent South African Gabriëlskloof Elodie Swartland Chenin Blanc 2022.
Simon Rogan was awarded an MBE in the New Year Honours List at the end of 2023, which is some measure of the influence he has had on contemporary British dining. The nerve centre of the whole operation is still here, in a stone-bu… Read more
Simon Rogan was awarded an MBE in the New Year Honours List at the end of 2023, which is some measure of the influence he has had on contemporary British dining. The nerve centre of the whole operation is still here, in a stone-built former smithy on a Cartmel road-bend, not far from its sibling Rogan & Co. The ambience has lost none of its rusticity, from the roughcast whitewashed walls and raftered ceilings to the anvil after which the place is named. The light, airy conservatory makes a fine spot for lunch. Smartly clad staff oversee a welcoming – and supremely professional – approach to hospitality, and the food does the rest. The kitchen mobilises a battalion of unexpected ingredients in surprising – even stunning – combinations, with textural notes to the fore as well as a clear focus on sustainability and regionalism. Among the appetisers is a fritter of Duroc pork and smoked eel on lovage emulsion with sweetcorn purée, an unimaginably delicious composition of flavours. There is also a pudding of Berkswell cheese coated in caramelised birch sap, tapped from a tree just a couple of miles away. A succession of plated dishes might include tiny pink fir potatoes cooked in chicken fat with pickled walnuts and an oil of burnt onion ash, while one of L'Enclume's signatures is the seaweed custard in beef broth and bone marrow, garnished with a house blend of caviar and Maldon oyster. Various vegetable-based specialties are always part of the menu, their seasonal freshness offset with powerful herbs and seasonings. As for animal protein, a pairing of John Dory and cuttlefish in pork fat with shrimp sauce, spinach and verbena might precede an outstanding dish of dry-aged Middle White pork in mead sauce with black garlic purée and pickled allium seeds, plus a pork-fat crumpet sitting on a hot stone to keep it warm. Textures go haywire in a serving of frozen Tunworth cheese topped with puffed buckwheat, lemon thyme crystals and gel, on a compôte of Champagne rhubarb. After strawberries and sweet cicely cream served in a ceramic pouch, followed by a miso-caramel mousse with apple (another L’Enclume signature), we concluded with an array of superlative petits fours – including a cornet of peach-stone ice cream with elderflower and white-chocolate ganache, and a tiny caramelised pear tart with a spot of herb oil. Wines by the glass are presented on an iPad, which you may want to keep by you as the menu progresses, but it's best to let the wine flights themselves take wing on a cosmopolitan journey around the globe.
Le Manoir in late May is a picture. Wisteria drapes over its honeyed stone, and you can wander freely across graceful lawns to kitchen gardens, orchards and ponds that hum with the energy of the season. This has been Raymond Blanc… Read more
Le Manoir in late May is a picture. Wisteria drapes over its honeyed stone, and you can wander freely across graceful lawns to kitchen gardens, orchards and ponds that hum with the energy of the season. This has been Raymond Blanc’s domain for almost 40 years and while firmly rooted in that heritage, its gaze is now fixed firmly on the future. Clearly the brief for 30-something Luke Selby, executive head chef since January 2023, has been not to cause upheaval within these mellow walls, rather to lead things gently forward – his six-course menu feels light-footed and playful, youthful and fresh. Luxury here is defined not necessarily by a flash of langoustine or lobster, more by garden-fresh produce whose flavours are allowed to shine. Tiny peas gather with vivid sweetness on a ricotta-filled tartlet, one of the exquisite canapés. Beetroot demonstrates its peerless versatility in a beautiful opener of deftly cubed pieces, the tartare base for a dome of beetroot mousse glossed with a gel that’s dotted with pickled mooli ‘flowers’. It’s fun and palate-awakening, thanks to a horseradish sorbet that sears fierily through the sweetness. Later, a dainty potato basket of tiny carrots, ribboned asparagus and crimson-edged slivers of radish is a bouquet of garden offerings alongside roasted guinea fowl. A morel filled with the lightest chicken and mushroom mousse sits in the airy tickle of a Gewürztraminer foam like a giant thimble; underneath is just-poached white asparagus, on top a crisp toast for texture. It’s a Blanc classic, but updated to offer a single, showstopping mushroom rather than three small ones as on previous menus. Classic too is the confit chalk stream trout on pickled mooli with compressed cucumber, tiny cauliflower florets, horseradish, dill oil and oscietra caviar. Its summery flavours are beautifully balanced, and it’s dashingly attractive. Desserts are exquisite. Bitter chocolate with coconut sorbet refreshes, before rosy-red gariguette and wild strawberries arrive, announced by their fragrance. Scarlet pieces of fresh fruit and a bright strawberry sorbet top a feather-light mousse, a pistachio biscuit base tempering the fruit’s natural acidity. Be assured, this is special-occasion territory without a doubt. Service glides with easy professionalism. The conservatory dining room is comfortable. Sommeliers are attentive. This is helpful given the scope of the wine list, which proudly celebrates France before heading, for example, to Austria for Martin and Anna Arndorfer’s minerally Riesling or to cool-climate Patagonia for Bodega Noemia’s smooth biodynamic Malbec. The four-glass paired flight is £95 at lunch; for those with unfathomably deep pockets, the £999 ‘sélection exceptionelle’ (£799 at lunch) includes Burgundy winemaker Cecile Tremblay’s magnificent 2015 Chambolle-Musigny Premier Cru, Les Feusselottes.
Its roots may stretch back to the time when Henry VIII was reinventing the English Church, but Grade II-listed Moor Hall is now at the pinnacle of present-day hospitality, thanks to a stunning renovation. Here you will find a ligh… Read more
Its roots may stretch back to the time when Henry VIII was reinventing the English Church, but Grade II-listed Moor Hall is now at the pinnacle of present-day hospitality, thanks to a stunning renovation. Here you will find a light, contemporary dining room (all clean lines, glass walls and thoughtfully considered detailing), plus glorious guest rooms, and a meticulously maintained kitchen garden that's always worth the tour – unless the weather is particularly grim. Indeed, that tour forms part of what we can for once call 'the journey', in that it is a staging-post on a canapé trail that starts in the lounge and ends in the kitchen, amid a whirl of activity from one of the most talented brigades in the land led by Mark Birchall. ‘His passion and drive are there for all to see,’ notes an admirer, and his startling culinary conceptions are brimming with imaginative panache. Expect a succession of multiple small courses that rarely miss a beat, while surprising and captivating even those already familiar with the style. A dinner that opens with a melt-on-the-tongue ‘flying saucer’ of puffed black pudding filled with gooseberry purée means business. By the time you arrive at your destination table, an oyster with white beetroot, dill and buttermilk might well turn up to greet you. Reporters often say it is nigh-on impossible to pick out highlights from the seasonally changing repertoire, but let's mention the richest, silkiest and most decadent mouthful of cod roe, chicken and chervil with a hint of salty/briny caviar, accompanied by beautiful-looking biscuits pressed with flowers from the garden. For some readers, fish is the undoubted highlight: a supremely delicate Mull scallop is brought to earth with asparagus and the merest suggestion of truffle, while a booming, deeply flavoured mussel and roe sauce shines the spotlight on a pairing of turbot and salsify – simplicity and richness taken to a world-beating new level. Superlative meat dishes have ranged from Spoutbank Angus beef (aged for 60 days) with BBQ celeriac, mustard and shallot to a startling plate of sika venison from Dorset with kale, beetroot, elderberry and some of the liver, dressed in whey and truffled honey. Desserts are often voguishly fragrant (woodruff, birch sap and marigold lending their scents to an apple and gooseberry assembly), while the ice cream suffused with Ormskirk gingerbread (a fine old Lancastrian speciality) is an essay in how to be luscious and spiky at the same time. As one reader observed: ‘Every taste and detail in every course is perfection.’ Some have felt that the wine flights are not quite as imaginative as they might be, and wine service could sometimes be more engaging (an odd tendency when there is such an authoritative and extensive core list to choose from), although everything will be right with the world once the fabulous array of petits fours arrives to give you a send-off back in the lounge.
After a quarter of a century, you could forgive Gordon Ramsay for turning his fine-dining flagship into a culinary jukebox of his greatest hits. Such is his enduring worldwide fame, he’d be assured an audience for whatever he se… Read more
After a quarter of a century, you could forgive Gordon Ramsay for turning his fine-dining flagship into a culinary jukebox of his greatest hits. Such is his enduring worldwide fame, he’d be assured an audience for whatever he served up. But, apart from the crowd-pleasing signature lobster, langoustine and salmon ravioli that’s been on the menu since day one, the kitchen’s elegant and sometimes playful dishes are resolutely modern. Take a main course entitled ‘100-day aged Cumbrian Blue Grey, panisse, cosberg, pontac’, described by one of the smartly suited waiters as ‘our take on steak and chips’. Despite the long ageing, the perfectly medium-rare piece of rare-breed sirloin had a mild flavour and was oh-so tender, while the garnish (a nugget of beautifully rendered fat) delivered a delicious whack of gamey, savoury funk. The crisp, refreshing cosberg was also a revelation: a cross between iceberg and cos, the lettuce heart was glazed with dashi vinegar and garnished with a multitude of pickled shallot rings, wild garlic ‘capers’, herbs, flowers and tiny croûtons. Its palate-cleansing freshness counterbalanced the pastrami spice-dusted, crinkle-cut panisse chips served on the side, and the umami pungency of their accompanying black-garlic purée. Needless to say, classical saucing is of the highest order here: pickled mustard seeds added welcome acidity to that beef jus and red wine-based ‘pontac’, while brown butter lifted the ‘jus noisette’ served with a roast veal sweetbread to another level of deliciousness. This was our dish of the day – a generous piece of precisely cooked, honey-glazed offal, encrusted with puffed grains and allium buds, all bathed in a velvety macadamia ajo blanco. Heavenly. Everything delights and every single item we sampled was faultless, from an ethereal gougère filled with smoked Montgomery Cheddar (one of a trio of stunning canapés) to a benchmark cherry soufflé with coconut ice cream and a selection of petits fours including a wonderfully full-flavoured, cushion-shaped blackcurrant pâté de fruit. Chef-patron Matt Abé (namechecked on the menu cover) and head chef Kim Ratcharoen are doing a fine job, not just by protecting the jewel in Ramsay’s crown but also by expressing their own highly attractive and accessible culinary creativity. After a decade, it is perhaps time to refresh the intimate dining room's rather dated lilac and grey interior, although it still feels like a special place in which to dine. Regulars may also lament the retirement of charismatic maître d’ Jean-Claude Breton in 2022, but the quality of service remains undiminished and is arguably the finest in the capital (perfectly paced and perfectly judged). We felt like royalty, even when we asked for tap water – which was poured with as much care and ceremony as a vintage Bordeaux. As for the wines themselves, don’t expect to see anything under £50 on the exhaustive and opulent iPad list, although there are some relative bargains that will ensure the bill doesn’t spiral into the stratosphere.
* The Waterside Inn now has two head chefs. Fabrice Uhryn has been joined by Adam Wright, who spent the last six years working under Guy Savoy and César Troisgros in France. Watch for a new review coming soon.*
A landmark … Read more
* The Waterside Inn now has two head chefs. Fabrice Uhryn has been joined by Adam Wright, who spent the last six years working under Guy Savoy and César Troisgros in France. Watch for a new review coming soon.*
A landmark destination for 50 years and counting, this ‘citadel of classic gastronomy’ still has the power to captivate, not least with its Thames-side location – a willow-shrouded riverbank with birds twittering in the sunlight and boats swaying by their moorings. An English idyll you might think, yet this corner of a Berkshire village is forever France, suffused with unshakeable Gallic civility – although all that studied politesse can feel rather dated, especially since the departure of charismatic maître d’ Diego Masciaga back in 2018. From the very beginning, this ‘restaurant avec chambres’ has had Roux family blood coursing through its veins, with Alain (Michel’s son) currently upholding its deep-rooted traditions. He oversees a repertoire of exalted haute cuisine designed to please but never offend – respectful cooking with a proper sense of occasion, promising rich rewards for those who are prepared to forget about their bank balances for a while. Penny-pinching is not an option here. Fashions come and go, but the Waterside’s masterly rendition of quenelles de brochet (pike) with langoustines is a hardy perennial, likewise pan-fried foie gras with a thoroughly appropriate Gewürztraminer sauce – or even a boozy cocotte of oxtail and beef cheek braised to unctuous richness in Beaujolais. It may be entrenched in the grand old ways, but the kitchen also steps gingerly into the modern world – poached halibut dressed with strips of mooli and a piquant lime and vodka sauce or a gâteau of grilled aubergines with roasted quinoa, prunes and orange vinaigrette. Alain Roux is a master patissier by trade and the flurry of intricately fashioned desserts shows off his true vocation: don’t miss his soufflés (warm William pear with persimmon coulis, for example). ‘Wine suggestions’ start at £45 – the bottom line on a voluminous, scarily priced list that delves deep into the annals of French viticulture.
The sense of almost mythological remoteness is accentuated as you head towards the west Wales coast, past the RSPB nature reserve, to the singular residence that is Ynyshir. Once owned by Queen Victoria, it has become one of the U… Read more
The sense of almost mythological remoteness is accentuated as you head towards the west Wales coast, past the RSPB nature reserve, to the singular residence that is Ynyshir. Once owned by Queen Victoria, it has become one of the UK's foremost destination dining options – thanks to Gareth Ward and his superlative kitchen and front-of-house teams. Ynyshir runs to its own agenda, with dozens of dishes over the space of four or five hours, requiring a level of concentration that will be amply rewarded with revelatory food rocking with stirring flavours, textures and temperatures, plus a soundtrack curated by the resident DJ. Highlights from our latest visit ranged from a lobster claw with peanut brittle and spritzed lime (served on a hot metal plate) to another appetiser of raw prawns in Thai green curry sauce with slivers of sugar-snap. When the music amps up a little (Iggy Pop's 1977 hit, The Passenger, in our case), it's time to sashay into the dining room. What makes the experience so enjoyable is that there is no set way to eat the food; use whatever implements look right and ignore the neighbours. When we had finished our corpulent Orkney scallop, we lifted the dish to our lips and drank up the milky wagyu-fatted sauce. East Asian notes are a golden thread running through many of these dishes, sometimes almost conventionally so – as with the maki rolls that begin with yellowfin tuna, nori, white soy, sesame and English wasabi. Among the sushi offerings, the sea bream with compressed apple and more wasabi is a textural triumph. Miso-cured duck liver mousse with smoked eel and puffed spelt has plenty to say for itself, but so does a piece of Irish duck served in a style somewhere between Peking and char siu, but before we peak too soon, there's lamb rib to come, slow-cooked for an eternity, tender as marshmallow in shiso and onion, ahead of confit wagyu and mushroom ketchup alongside egg-yolked rice. A culinary joke takes us from savoury to sweet, via a burger with pickle and a homage to the McFlurry, flavoured with banana, birch syrup and caviar. A glitterball suddenly switches on and the smoke bucket is carried ceremonially through the room, to the strains of Bronski Beat’s Smalltown Boy. Desserts gently return us to the comfort zone with toffee pudding (albeit sauced with miso) and an elegantly layered, liquorous tiramisu. There is a feeling that you might need to prepare for Ynyshir by forgoing solid sustenance for 48 hours, but our feedback files show how volubly people adore the novelty, the challenge and the sheer unadulterated fun of it all. And it is less relentless than it sounds: 'the tempo of the performance surges, then slackens and surges again, led by the music, and the fever-pitch deliciousness of some of the dishes,' our inspector noted. Wine picks are as original and as assertive as they need to be for the food, and are flexible enough to accommodate the gentler end of the spectrum (a Bulgarian Pinot Noir was a success with lamb). However, some cheaper options don't quite have enough impact for many of the potently flavoured dishes.
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