Hello friends.
Last Resort is back with our 4th installment this Saturday (10th March) at the Star of Kings, Kings Cross.
You want a flavour of the drinking and dancing mayhem we bring. Take a look at this.
HERE’s the Facebook event. Confirm your attendence to the biggest party in London this weekend!
A short review I did for my Guardian food writing course. A wonderful weekend, great company and met 2 of my heroes. Not too shabby.
Shining like a pearl in the bed of Euston Road stands the beautifully revamped St Pancras Renaissance Hotel. The great building, first opened in 1873 and now beautifully restored, houses one of London’s most talked about restaurants, The Gilbert Scott.
As Marcus Wareing continues to gain plaudits and maintain his stars at The Berkeley, his second solo venture was always going to draw feverish attention. It’s a building that demands perfection, but often fails to deliver.
What strikes me entering the dining room is the sheer grandeur befitting such history. The Victorian decoration emits class at every turn. The ceiling reaches for the stars, with gold leaf adorning limestone pillars that match any dining room in London for beauty.
I’m there for the set lunch and it read very well. I’m excited, as one should be. My terrine was porky and livery as promised, but was let down by the lack of promised sage. The punchy, aromatic flavour of sage can dominate if overused. Here it doesn’t even register, thus the dish lacks an extra dimension. Admittedly, some does fight its way in from the accompanying plum sauce, but it merely adds a slight tang to an otherwise average dish. Unforgivably, my toast is burnt. In would have been delicious, its little flecks of fennel seed add a spice kick, but if you can’t get toast right, there isn’t much hope for the rest.
Again, what came next promises much but is nothing short of beige. A chicken and snail pie arrives golden, begging to be punctured and explored. It’s so under seasoned, that the poor chicken and plump snails only get to shine when the oozy garlic and parsley sauce is self-corrected. Vegetable sides of new potatoes, kale and cabbage are fresh, crunchy and delicious, adding to the homely feel of the dish. Like with the starter, a criminal sin is committed. I crunch a bone, pick it out and put it on the side of my plate disappointed.
The shining moment arrives in the form of Mrs Beeton’s snow eggs; a sweet quenelle of meringue resting in a pool of burnt honey custard with crushed toffee and peanuts on top. It’s rich with a hint of salt and completely wonderful. It’s gone before I realise I forgot to take a picture. The child in me wants to lift up the plate and lick it clean. I settle for a more suitable swipe of my finger.
With Dinner, Pollen Street Social and St John Hotel all opening in quick succession, the big boys are here to play, hence it’s a hugely competitive time to be a British restaurant in London. The potential at The Gilbert Scott is plain to see. With some fine tuning we could have a ‘big four’ of quality British restaurants in the capital. For us eaters, that’s a very good thing.
I’ll probably burn my toast in the morning.
My first ever homemade bread!
‘Gennaro’s bread’. Taleggio, parmesan, gorgonzola, prosciutto and basil. Delicious.
Jamie Oliver has spent practically his entire career in front of the camera, and now chefs working in his restaurants can expect similar treatment. In a somwehat Orwellian move, the celebrity chef, who has over 20 restaurants and more planned for the near future, has installed CCTV cameras in his restaurant kitchens country-wide in a bid to manage quality control.
READ HERE.
I’m siding with Michael Caines on this one.
