QUINTESSENTIALLY | Insider | Food & Drink

Whenever I am wandering through the hallowed streets of Mayfair something that always amazes me is the sheer number of really excellent places to eat. Some might say that there are too many upmarket, luxurious restaurants around this area already to which I would respond “It doesn’t matter how many there are, the really good ones will go from strength to strength while the poor ones will be forgotten in a few weeks.”

Thankfully, the newly opened Aurelia, which specialises in Mediterranean and Italian dishes to share, is set to be one of the success stories.  The place was an absolute pleasure to visit and my evening spent there was one of the most enjoyable I’ve had in a restaurant in a long time. One of the reasons why it works so well is that the people behind it, The Waney Group, have a lot of experience in the industry, having masterminded favourites such as Roka and Zuma.

I was immediately impressed when I walked into the ground floor bar which is a friendly and welcoming place. I was even more delighted however when we were taken to the downstairs dining room which features an open kitchen, allowing diners to watch the various grills on the menu being prepared. The end product really is superb and the sharing aspect of the dining experience is a novelty. The leg of Salt Marsh lamb is served with a delicious pesto and the pork chop with fennel is very nearly a match for Heston Blumenthal’s own version at Dinner. I tucked into both of these dishes heartily and with some excitement much to my guest’s chagrin – he could only watch on as I got well and truly stuck in with carnivorous aplomb. Starters are also a real hit and the perfectly put together dish of mozzarella and tomato, which can so often be a very dull option, was creamy and full of flavour. Wines are carefully matched to the food with some excellent Italian and French bottles on offer, including a particularly good Chianti. We tried to drink sensibly throughout the evening but our good work was ruined by a fierce glass of Grappa which was produced at the end of the meal, needless to say the journey home slightly more blurry than it should have been.

It’s also worth making sure that you leave enough room for dessert because the sweets on offer are not to be missed. Choose from a rich cheesecake made with mascarpone, a semi-deconstructed crème brûlée or a fine cheese board, to mention just a few.

The service was friendly and efficient which is impressive given how busy it was. The fact that it was quite so busy is, in itself, notable given that Aurelia has only just opened. We even spotted a celebrity diner there in the form of Marina Diamandis, from band Marina and the Diamonds and this is certainly the sort of place where many more are sure to flock to. Aurelia is set to see out 2011 as one of the hottest places to be in London, and deservedly so. I am looking forward to my next visit already. Don’t forget, too, that it’s open for breakfast as well as lunch and dinner, making it a truly all-day option.

www.aurelialondon.co.uk

In the restaurant, we sat, just staring. Sometimes at each other, sometimes out over the plains of the forest and then out further across the twilight hours, carried as they are on the wings of a thousand swans, sometimes white, often black with all the poetry of nightfall. Their wings glide, high above Hartwell House and swoop along the rushes and further along towards Blenheim Palace and Woburn Abbey along the way.

It is here, just an hour from London, that deer dance across ravines now frosted over by the drip of mid-winter, tripping as they do across the Vale of Aylesbury. It is here that a lake shudders in lonely thought, impressed as it is by the silhouette of this 17-th century stately mansion – the very metaphor of ‘pensive reflection’ – in-awed by its strange inhabitants, by their laughter, their pensive smiles, amused too by their fond appreciation for its Jacobean furniture, its eerie figurines – each with their own unique countenance, becoming graver, darker, lighter, then stronger in bearing and power, then sensitive to your own sense of amazement as they climb up the sweeping staircase to 33 suites covered in fine fabric and a selection of shortbreads and ‘luxury fruit’.

I couldn’t figure out if my sighs in the almost forgotten candlelight were for the one, or for the other. My eyes rested on the one, the one I repeatedly called ‘buttercup’ (keeping a straight face all the while, and this just to try and make her laugh, for her smile had started so thinly, and was now growing steadily). My fork was heavy with a poached fillet of brill with lemon grass, and her lips were pressed against Ruinart Brut Rose, and they turned to find themselves reflected in the purple glass that divided the moon beam and shattered it on ten pale, motionless fingers (and one sapphire ring). I noticed that mine own eyes were both dilated, and shone with a similar intensity to that moon which found a place in her own.

Dear reader (for you are dear to me if you are reading this), you will ask me if such is the poise of romance that the world inside must find its immediate reflection in the world outside, that the sigh must escape from the heart into the ether and not in the other direction. And I will agree, and passionately at that. For what is this forest and these grand public rooms, the high ceilings and yellow cupolas and the fine paintings and the exquisite plasterworks (even if carved from a golden blade), and the beauty of this bookish garden, that infamous porch and its dark blue grass where a fountain and a poet that looks like you sit for one moment in time….what is it, and how can it be appreciated unless its sigh goes from the inside out, from one pair of eyes to another, from one lip to another, now acquiescing and saying ‘Yes. But look, there’s another one…another deer…another rabbit…another moon!’

My ponderings, so far, and so often, describe hats, and coats, the perfection of a stuffed saddle of rabbit (yes, and here it is brought over by one so elegant and softly spoken as to seem almost part of the country tweed that covers my shoulder), or the soft and supple notes of another glass of rosé that she had with the specialité de la maison – chicken breast with perfectly creamed potatoes – and the home made fudge or the pyramid of blackcurrant parfait with puddle of summer berry compote – so deliciously prepared, so thankfully devoured.

But I think of you as you read this, and I realise that such detail, though necessary, though in ‘the manner of things, and important for that reason’, are only details, and not the reason why you would choose to come here at all.

For I, in this twilight hour that I hold the pen, and remembering the air of wealth in that library with the great fire where we played chess for hours until finally she won (my boast has its purpose here too), and those fluffy white bathrobes, and that waistcoated man with the wide ancient smile that carried my bags out and into the waiting cab, and her smile as he hugged her goodbye, am left with a feeling of… Yes!

For it is the beauty of such a place in old Albion, with its lakes and swans and winding shadows so stoically wrought, that it holds the remnants of a thought that itself reminds us that such beauty cannot be around us if it does not exist with even greater potency within the very fibre of our beings.

www.hartwellhouse.com

With so many people to buy for and only 2 weeks left until the big day, you might want to take a look at some of the luxurious and stylish gift ideas Quintessentially Insider have put together in our Christmas Luxe List.  Fingers crossed a few of these little beauties will be finding their way under our tree this year!

Cox Cookies and Cakes: The Cook Book
With a foreword by Sir Elton John and David Furnish you know that the 75 recipes inside the pages of Cox Cookies and Cakes are going to be flamboyant, glamorous and decadently good! This is your chance to have a slice of Soho style and sauceiness in your own kitchen.
Priced at GBP 16.99

Grey Goose Deluxe Gift Box
Stuck on what to get a certain sartorial gentleman? Why not try this stylish gift box complete with a recipe for the classic Grey Goose Martini? Containing a 70cl bottle of the world’s best tasting vodka, this is the ultimate gift for martini lovers this Christmas.
Priced at GBP 33.50

Cosmetics à la carte
What could be a better gift for someone special this Christmas than beauty? Cosmetics à la carte offer custom blended make-up to suit your skin type and tone, even recreating a favourite discontinued lipstick should you desire it or inventing a re-formulation for allergy sufferers. This bespoke service is perfect for those who struggle to find make up which is both luxurious and comfortable. What’s more, Cosmetics à la carte also offer step-by-step practical lessons in make-up application, teaching you how to apply your personalised makeup. Perfect!
Starting Again Make-up Lesson Priced at GBP 180

Elizabeth Galton Studio
Offering bespoke jewellery from a number of talented designers, Elizabeth Galton Studio is the perfect place to buy a unique piece for someone special in your life. Let them know your requirements and they’ll find the perfect jeweller to make your piece. Alternatively, pick from the range of unique pieces they have on offer. Our favourite? The stunning Ana de Costa Emerald Ghandi Earrings.
POA

Molton Brown Fine Fragrances
Described as ‘An Artisanal Journey in Fine Fragrance’, the five fragrances of the Molton Brown ‘Navigations Through Scent Collection’ have been inspired by journeys through the ancient spice route, and are a perfume lovers dream. Our favourite scent is Lijiang, a floral, musky scent that captures the light, delicate softness of Chinese silk and crisp tea.  And as all of the fragrances are delightfully unisex, this is one present made for sharing!
Fragrances start at GBP 55, GBP 60 and GBP 65.

Cooper Oporto Ladies City Bicycle
From the people behind the classic Mini Cooper, comes the elegant, stylish and simple Cooper Oporto. The ultimate way to travel about town, the chic spring white frame and classic Brooks leather saddle will delight any style conscious cyclist. Simply tie a bow to the basket and you have the perfect Christmas surprise!
Priced at GBP 949.

Biscuiteers  Vintage Christmas
This vintage styled Christmas tin from the Biscuiteers contains a mouth-watering luxe collection of beautiful biscuit decorations. Filled with 16 intricately iced sparkly stars, jingle bells, gorgeous baubles, and stripy candy canes, each biscuit comes with a gold ribbon allowing you to hang it on the tree – if they make it that far!
Priced at GBP 38.50.

Carol Joy at Urban Retreat
Enter the wonderful world of Carol Joy with this incredible facial created exclusively for the Urban Retreat at Harrods.  The huge benefits of pure oxygen, cold laser, hyaluronic acid and pure collagen fibres are luxuriously combined with Diamond Dust and Golden Millet Oil to give exceptional results.   This is the ultimate pampering gift to give to someone special or to yourself.
Retreat with Carol Joy is priced at GBP 250.

Mount Street Deli Gift Hamper
This year’s range offers a luxurious selection of artisan produce and wines from the Mount Street Deli, The Ivy restaurant and Annabel’s Club, including a GBP 3000 limited edition Annabel’s hamper. All hampers are packaged in classic wicker baskets, complete with leather straps, making them a wonderful addition to any household.
Priced at GBP 150.

Merry Christmas from Quintessentially Insider!

Not satisfied with a pizzeria, rotisserie, ice cream parlour, champagne bar, several cafes, caviar bar, sea grill, steakhouse, sushi bar and multiple fine dining options, Harrods have decided that there’s something missing in their gastronomic offerings. And lo, The Tea Room was born.

Celebrating the best of British, The Tea Room features a quintessentially English line-up of mouth-watering fare. Open all day, it’s the perfect stop for either a hearty breakfast before your shopping or a sumptuous break from all that exertion, letting you rest your weary feet as you indulge in some afternoon fancies and a cup of tea.

But guests beware; The Tea Room is one of those places you just won’t want to leave. Mixing a bistro vibe with that of a traditional English tea-room, it’s filled with luxurious green velvet studded sofas and simple wooden chairs, creating an elegant yet understated surround. What’s more, the food is to die for as the kitchen offers a variety of delicious options, from buttery brioche to tasty quiches and salads. It’s a wonderful treat any time of the day.

However, the traditional Afternoon Tea is the pièce de résistance, featuring a range of finger sandwiches, sweet and savory scones and delectable English fancies. With so many scrumptious treats including passion fruit posset, after eight pastry, boozy English trifle, banana pie bomb and lemon meringue slice, you might struggle to find a favourite.

So let us give you a suggestion – try the sticky toffee pudding gateaux accompanied by the Vanilla Excellence Chinese black tea. It’s the perfect sweet afternoon treat to stave off those winter blues.

The Tea Room is located on the Second Floor of Harrods and is open Monday-Saturday 10am-8pm and Sunday 12pm-6pm.

“Shall we have some Champagne? Yes, I’ll open a bottle.” Jean-Christophe Novelli has just swept through his chef academy; his accent and charisma enough to kill any suggestion it may not be wise to indulge quite so much before a masterclass with the world’s sharpest knives.

A moment after we have all sat down he begins to confer on us his great artistry, and the exquisite fineness of these knives. An onion is dispatched with startling speed to be used in a novel take on Christmas gravy; he includes both cocoa powder and vanilla.

Jean-Christophe Novelli believes the knives, which he designed in conjunction with Ziganof, are the only knives anyone needs to express themselves in the kitchen. The Japanese cleaver, paring and carving knives offer all the versatility you need.

Soon after he grabs a carrot, and after what look like a selection of random incisions, he presents a perfect orange flower. With this demonstration of what is possible it is our turn. We make our way to our chopping boards, it feels like an old episode of the Generation Game; I expect Bruce Forsyth to burst out at any moment – he doesn’t.

At this point I should admit I was expecting to be underwhelmed with the knives. As a keen cook I have good quality knives which I keep as sharp as I can, I didn’t think these could be that much sharper; I was wrong. They are, in fact, extraordinary, the blade is perfectly balanced, incredibly flexible and as soon as you start to slice, terrifyingly sharp.

Made with Damascus steel, a technique developed in the Middle East but perfected in Japan for use in the famously sharp Samurai swords, the knives combine ferocious sharpness with flexibility.

The technique, which sees malleable steel folded over a harder, brittle core, produces impeccably sharp knives. The Japanese cleaver has a core of TG10 steel, the hardest possible, with 66 layers of steel folded over the top. It is proof that excellent craftsmanship is, in itself, an art.

Classes at the academy are as diverse as French and West African cooking. Any fears over the authenticity of what you are learning are immediately dispelled after talking to the teachers. I asked Felice, the Italian tutor, what he’d do with polenta and was given a recipe from his youth in Italy, “Cook a mountain of polenta and put one sausage in the middle, whoever can eat their way to the middle gets the sausage – that one sausage can last for weeks”.

Presented in an attractive box these knives, which are made to last a lifetime and more would make an excellent addition to even the most well-stocked kitchen.

www.jeanchristophenovelli.com/partnerships/ziganof-knives/

I was unsure what awaited me inside the Marriott County Hall Hotel. The highly considered bespoke finish of a boutique hotel rarely finds its place in a world renowned hotel chain with over 500 lodgings, and as we so often find in anything with huge mass appeal, the gatekeepers of your gourmet dining privileges, of your unequalled balcony view in your equally resplendent suite are often either sleeping, or not alive at all.

And so, pleasant surprise when, upon arrival we found that our suite looked out onto the Thames, the river below lit up with reflections of London’s most famous landmarks; Big Ben’s clock tower, Houses of Parliament and the impeccable silhouette of Westminster Abbey. So, to lay it out, this is quite simply one of the best views of the city, and possibly the most tranquil one outside of the Lake District – the commuters and tourists seeming so far away – a trump card for any inner city hotel. As you turn back to the room itself, you are greeted with the ultimate in traditional comfort and modern technology. The two king-sized beds, swathed in Egyptian linen, and the expansive sofa area, each with a plasma screen for a multiple viewing experience.

Down the corridor, there’s the newly refurbished gym, the 25 metre swimming pool and the spa for those that want to look drop dead gorgeous. On the way, one notes that although the contemporary features are plentiful, they do not detract from the overall vintage feel that weaves its way through the hotel. Nearly a century old and having endured quite extensive refurbishment, the building still houses a wealth of original features; not least the library where we had a rather unusual evening meal, surrounded as we were by both the grand and the understated – the open fireplace, period decor and original floor to ceiling bookcases which enclosed either side of our table, with the light-imbued gift of one moonlit river floating by just outside.

The waiter, both charming and attentive, served the delicious three course meal – appetising courses coming one after the other with light and fluffy crab cakes, fresh smoked salmon, beautiful cuts of lamb and beef, and a scrumptious, melting chocolate soufflé – not forgetting some altogether sumptuous winter cocktails, including spicy apple and a classic Aston Webb Collins.

And so, after a very British meal, in very British surroundings, and a very calming sleep spent in crushed linen, we decided it was time to leave, quickly finding ourselves among the crowds on Westminster Bridge, only then realizing just how great an escape this hotel offers, how peaceful are its quaint corridors, how uncanny its objet’s du desir, and how profitable even one night away from city mania is to the mind, soul, and spirit.

London County Hall
Westminster Bridge Road
London, SE1 7PB

It was sometime in early October that I sat down to dinner at Brasa in Fulham. I took the window seat, and she sat down very demurely and ordered a glass of Syrah Rose. I had the same, but it didn’t matter what I was drinking. Outside, the autumn light made the streets burn red and gold, and I half listened to her relate a date she had once been on. ‘One quite like this’ she said, ‘but the outcome was much more predictable. He wore a hat not dissimilar to your own, but his smile was softer, brighter, and his eyes made signs that he actually cared for my storytelling.’ She giggled, and paused over her starter of grilled baby squid, capers and shallots. I stuck my fork into the potted rabbit terrine, and called the waiter over, ordering another bottle of something, plucking at my cap, rubbing my chin, distracting myself by making small, sad shapes in the sourdough.

I realised then that words were needed, so I tried some pleasantries… ‘your necklace, is it…I mean, I have seen one quite like it…oh, it’s a real diamond?’ and then, with the gulp still in my throat, and my eyes turned to the little boy and his mam on the corner outside…‘they will be opening a new members club here.  Do you watch Made in Chelsea? No? Oh, well they will be attending the launch party.’  I then hungrily did away with the 14 Oz Galloway Sirloin (“one of the best I have ever tasted” I said to myself right then), swallowing a large glass of Montepulciano d’Abbruzo as I did.

That night was one of those nights which end without much more being said or done or won.  ‘Probably because the food and service did all the winning for me’ I reasoned later on, lying in my bed with a ridiculous smile pasted across a very confused face, remembering how she devoured the triple chocolate brownie and vanilla ice cream while I did my best Bruno Mars impression. ‘Nobody’s gonna tell me I can’t’ I had said apologetically, finding her smile too desirable to really make sense of my failed attempt to force feed her a spoon of white chocolate mousse, ginger crumble and strawberry coulis.

Now, nights come and go, and autumn winds turn colder, and a man keeps up his swagger by buying a tailored three-piece tweed suit, a new ‘long hat’, and for more informal occasions, tries the almost-unsightly almost-revolutionary prescription of crossing a waistcoat with a Lacoste polo shirt. Such was my attire when I stumbled up the stairs to the newly designed Broadway House Members Club just a month later.

My lips were curled up menacingly, for I knew she would be there again, probably standing in a red dress at the rooftop bar, sipping on a house fusion of chilli vodka, pink grapefruit tequila and lemongrass & ginger rum. The dress was purple, distinctly rich-looking and two emeralds glimmered on two perfect ears. She was framed by the West London skyline, draped in a cool mist that lingered about her bare shoulders. I was aware that this was going to be difficult, for there were three others marked on her horizon, with slicked back hair (the fineness of which reminded of a rare black stallion), polished shoes, and cigarette lighters that seemed to be set in pure gold. I didn’t notice the barbecue, the trays of champagne and the smell of apple wood chips diffused with Chanel No. 19 perfume. All I saw was the cherry in her mouth, the outrageous smoothness of her being.

Now please, indulge me a moment. The setting was spectacular – rarely have I been to a member’s club with a rooftop and waiters on hand to mix a homemade orange cocktail infused with Jack Daniels, marmalade and old-fashioned Victorian lemonade. Nor have I seen so many cool cats drift so far away from Shoreditch, each with their own peculiar brand of necktie. Nor has the feeling of complete and utter ‘love’ followed in one person’s wake, she, half-floating towards a gentleman lying nonchalantly on a black bean bag, his obvious prowess a razor to my heart. She held eye contact with him all the while, smiling, passing him a drink, before turning, her eyes opening wide, her lips pursing with amusement. ‘How long are you going to stand their staring at me? And what on earth are you wearing! You look utterly daft. Come here you mad boy!’

Later that evening, it was just me and her and the moon, with a couple of Nordic looking chaps in close proximity that didn’t appreciate my very particular method of grooming.  ‘Are they going to be here all night?’ I ask casually, ‘I mean, it’s obvious that you can’t resist me. Even I can tell you that.’ ‘Well, you’ve definitely improved since last time’, she murmurs, sipping some Vina Pena ever so elegantly. ‘You can even put a sentence together this time. Really massive fail last time.’ ‘I know. I shouldn’t have worn that hat.’ I return, smirking bashfully. There is silence, and I offer to find her another drink.  ‘No, I’ll get you one.’ She giggles, and sides away, her profile making me fall down onto the black bean bag. ‘You must be outta your mind my lady.’ I say softly, obscurely, almost tearfully as she goes down to the cocktail bar.

Broadway House Members enjoy the use of wi-fi, a licence open until 1am, priority dinner and party bookings at Brasa, access to Eight Members Clubs in Moorgate & Bank, and perks including hotel deals, members’ wine tastings and cocktails master class evenings.

Brasa London
474—476 Fulham Road
London SW6 1BY
Phone: 0207 610 3137

A lot of you will understand what I mean when I say that there’s a rather large vacuum in my Sunday nights. With Downton Abbey off our screens until Christmas, I have been left craving that old-world glamour and faded grandeur to which I had become accustomed. So, with no other suitable period dramas on the horizon, you will understand my delight when I received an invite to a Night at the Opera Gala Dinner at The Landmark.

Evoking the bygone era for which I’ve been pining, the outside of this stunning 19th century redbrick hotel is both impressive and imposing. Picture the scene, champagne flows at a reception in the Winter Garden, the venue for the evening. Surrounded by lush palm trees, people laugh and mingle against the background tinkling of the piano. Suddenly a hush falls across the scene. Dinner is served.

And what a sumptuous affair it is! 6 courses of exquisite food with matching wines to complement each dish. As I look around, I feel more and more like Lady Mary sitting in her dining room enjoying her usual elegant culinary fare. I decide that the cantankerous looking old lady on the table to our right can play the Dowager Duchess. The chap in the corner table even looks slightly like Matthew if you squint – perhaps not.

Dinner starts with a tastily spiced Jerusalem artichoke foam, pickled pear and coriander cresso, followed by a delicious salad of beetroot, whipped goats cheese, honeycomb & walnuts. I didn’t think I even liked beetroot. And then, whilst I was pondering my fickle taste buds, it began. A female voice soaring above the piano’s accompaniment, reducing its audience to silence. I must confess that I’m something of an opera lover. Puccini to be precise, regardless of what that may say about my tastes. You say a lack of gravitas, I say accessible to all. But that’s by the by and not wholly relevant.

A 20 minute interlude of Baroque opera performed by the talented artists of Opera Bespoke ensued, mesmerising the diners as they listened to popular arias by Handel and Mozart. Drawing to a close, we were left slightly dazed, struggling to adjust back to the realities of dinner. But once the food arrived, our attention soon snapped back to the mouth-watering sight before us. Hand dived scallops, crisp pork belly, pineapple & ginger, followed by aged fillet of beef, almond croquettes, broccoli & baby onions. The food was lip-smackingly good, and as we savoured the taste of these gastronomic delights, the music began once again.

French opera was the theme for this interlude, including classics such as “Flower Duet” by Delibes, (think British Airways) and “L’amour est un Oiseau Rebelle” from Bizet’s Carmen. As the diva strutted around the room, gracing chosen gentlemen with the gift of a red carnation, (including my smug boyfriend I hasten to add), I was left in two minds, desperate for the performance not to end, yet eagerly anticipating the delights of dessert.

A chocolate and blood orange mousse later and I’d forgotten all about Carmen. In fact, my ambitions at Lady Mary-esque deportment went straight out the window as I gobbled down the pistachio Bakewell, calvados cream and Granny Smith apple sorbet. Needless to say, the Dowager next to us still managed to maintain her crotchety demeanour, possibly aided by my relinquishing any futile attempts at well-bred elegance. No matter. The grand finale soon seized upon its captivated audience, with the esteemed performers belting out several of my much-loved Puccini numbers to bring a glorious end to the evening.

The Landmark’s Night at the Opera Gala Dinner is a night that will transport you to the delights of by-gone days. It may not be Downton, but its refined elegance captures the period completely. And you don’t even need any aristocratic credentials to enjoy it! Just don’t tell Carson that…

The Landmark, 222 Marylebone Road, London, NW1 6JQ

Cuisine that is touted as ‘sharing food,’ inspires in me a quiet unease. Tapas dishes, gastro pub sharing platters, even ample buffets intended to feed a significant number of guests, trigger usually dormant internal anxieties. I don’t think of myself as a greedy person, but ultimately I do begrudge sharing my food if the possibility could arise that another consumer were to enjoy a larger or more varied portion than myself.

Luckily for me, (and my guest) the Malaysian fare at Suka at The Sanderson Hotel was bountiful, dispelling any misgivings about sharing I may have arrived with. Offering a culinary journey through the street-food capitals of Kuala Lumpur, Penang and Tawau, Suka’s talented chef Ahmad Shuib has selected dishes that lend themselves to the traditional sharing style of dining, perfect for a quick pre-theatre nibble with friends. Or, if you’re like me, an excuse to enjoy a lengthy banquet of dishes arriving on your table as and when they are ready to be devoured. The menu is available for a limited time only however, so you had better get your skates on.

After a delightfully warm welcome, which sets the tone for the rest of the evening’s attentive service, we are lead past the famous Long Bar – its gleaming 80 foot surface dotted with the colourful cocktails of the fashionable crowd that flock here for an after-work tipple – to our seats. Walking into the restaurant’s main space we are immediately embraced by a luxurious balminess, generated by the tall heaters placed throughout the room like lofty warmth-emitting trees. Combined with the huge splashing fountain and the ceiling-high foliage languishing against shimmering draped walls, you would be mistaken for thinking you had stepped into an oasis.

With a little help from our knowledgeable waiter Steven, we begin to tackle the menu. Everything looks incredible, but that may be because I purposefully rejected lunch (all but a coffee and two Oreos) in order to do this Malaysian feast full justice. We decide on six dishes, one from each section of the menu, and congratulate ourselves on our dedication to sampling all possible forms of Malaysian street-food, while sipping our complimentary cup of iced ‘Ahmed’s Mum’s Tea.’ This is a refreshingly fragrant concoction of lemongrass and sugar cane, the perfect palate cleanser with stomach settling properties, Steven tells us, no doubt pitying our soon-to-be-bursting bellies.

Before long, our first dish arrives. A firm favourite; king prawn satay with homemade peanut sauce. A dumpling-filled duck broth with shitake mushrooms and baby bok choi swiftly follows, with enormous tamarind and soy tiger prawns in tow. Impossibly fresh crispy squid with coriander and ginger vies for our attention, as a yellow coconut curry and wok fried noodles with beef land on our buckling table. This amount of food just really isn’t ladylike. But it is delicious.

As we both tuck in, my eyes rove over different dishes that are conveyed to neighbouring tables, (for research purposes only of course) and all look equally as sensational in presentation, and sheer palatability, as those before us. I doubt there is a dud dish on the menu, but if you do get lost amongst the Karis and Wonton Sups, the waiting staff are always on hand to advise. Steven’s recommendation – the crispy squid – is quite possibly the best I have ever tasted. I would have been perfectly happy with six portions of it alone.

The cocktails at Suka are almost meals in themselves, so varied are their flavours. The Vesuvio, a fiery mix of ginger, chilli, lemongrass and sugar, with a jaunty chilli pepper perched on the side of the glass, is literally lip tingling, while the fruity Oriental Daiquiri soothes sizzling tongues.

The only quibble I had? The near impossibility of tackling the succulent chicken legs in the yellow coconut curry with chopsticks as my only tools of combat. Not that this prevented me from trying. I even quelled my inner anxieties and shared my winnings with my guest.

The Sanderson, 50 Berners Street, London, W1T 3NG
www.sandersonlondon.com

Chances are that, unless you’re a student of the food blogosphere, you haven’t heard of Mikael Jonsson and his new Chiswick restaurant, Hedone. And he’d be perfectly happy with that. Jonsson, unlike most London chefs, actively eschews the idea of publicity for his restaurant, claiming to have toyed with appointing a PR to keep food critics away in the early months. This stands in stark contrast to just about every other restaurant, which is all too desperate to get as many bloggers, tweeters and influential voices in through the door in the early days of their operation. But Jonsson is defiantly his own man. Straight talking – he openly admits to having spent years sending back dishes that he was unimpressed by in top restaurants and explaining why – and dismissive of attempts to lump him in with ‘new Nordic cuisine’, he would pooh-pooh any attempt to describe him as one of the most exciting new chefs to emerge anywhere in the past few years.

However, because I have come here to praise him, not to bury him, I am going to do precisely that. Hedone is a complete contrast to most linen-tableclothed and formal dining rooms, offering a relaxed atmosphere with a wooden bar that looks into the small open-plan kitchen and comfortable wooden tables. It’s more like a branch of Le Pain Quotidien than the sort of place that tends to get foodies salivating desperately. This knowing unpretentiousness is part of Jonsson’s plan, as is the location down the less-travelled end of Chiswick High Road. Nobody would ever mistake him for someone who is attempting to get the world and his wife into his restaurant through self-promotion.

But come they have done, and Hedone finds itself full most nights. Jonsson is even going to have to begin turning tables in the modest 35-cover room, just to cater to demand. What people are going to eat remains something of a mystery until they get there, as Jonsson likes to use the freshest possible produce and is constantly refining and developing his menu to make sure that everything on it represents the highest possible quality. Of course, there are a few dishes that are already quite famous, and others that deserve to be. A starter of Cevennes onion with pear shavings is both sweet and simple, just as another dish of slow cooked hen egg with Scottish girolle mushrooms adds apricot jam, a curious but breathtakingly accomplished idea.

For me, the stand-out dish was steamed wild Dorset turbot, simply presented with cockles and cavolo nero. The turbot was breathtakingly tender and tasty, with the surface being iridiscent like mother of pearl. The previous best turbot I’d ever tried had been at the three Michelin-starred Le Bristol in Paris; this was superior. It was swiftly followed by breast of squab pigeon, with juniper-smoked potatoes and parsley and pistachio. Daringly, Jonsson not only serves this up complete with claw, but supplies a finger bowl so you can nibble on it daintily, something that has apparently caused consternation amidst the well-heeled of Chiswick, who probably didn’t expect to be presented with a pigeon claw when going out for a nice bite to eat.

A cheese course offers a small but well chosen selection of impeccable fromage, including a fine Gruyère Arpege from Switzerland and a delicious Bonde de Gâtine goat’s cheese from Poitou –Charentes, and desserts include a surprisingly light chocolate mousse creation, called the ‘Hedone chocolate bar’, and an English blueberry tart with Tahitian vanilla ice cream that my companion pronounced the best dessert she’d ever had. All the above were superbly matched by the expert sommelier, whose splendid sideburns should win an award in their own right, although Jonsson openly disagreed on his choice of a sweet Coteau du Layon to pair with the onions. (For the record, I thought it worked superbly.)

All of this is priced at far below what you might expect to pay in a competing establishment -£50 for four courses, and £70 for six courses – and the quality and ambition of the cooking represent excellent value for money. Jonsson openly describes the current state of Hedone as ‘the beta stage’ of what he eventually wants to achieve, and given the already extremely high accomplishment of his restaurant, the thought of this being surpassed over the coming years is both inspirational and rather frightening. I’m already looking forward to my next visit.

301 Chiswick High Road, W4.
www.hedonerestaurant.com