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Tag: food review

  • Ronel Lehmann reviews Jeremy King’s new restaurant Arlington: “an inspirational overcoming of adversity.”

    Arlington Restaurant Review: A Delightful Dining Experience with Jeremy King, by Ronel Lehmann

     

    When Karin Stark, wife of the late Dave Allen, described how life was without her comedian husband, she movingly said: “It’s like being a very long way from home.” Those words always struck a chord with me. To an avid restaurant goer, it felt the same, only this time on a happier occasion to be greeted by Jeremy King in his new abode, Arlington in St James’s.

    I had to research whether there had ever been a battle of Arlington. Indeed, there had, at the time of the American Civil War. The Arlington National Cemetery is also the final resting place for many of the United States’ greatest heroes, including more than 300,000 veterans of every American conflict, from the Revolutionary War to Iraq and Afghanistan.

     

    The reason for my own sudden conflict was learning that my own Editor had wanted to visit Arlington and write a review, and I had unintentionally usurped him.

    My marketing director guest had arrived just before me, although I wasn’t late, and she was by then well tucked into a small table facing other diners. I had the window outside view, although I was totally focussed on the dazzling finish of the interior, with its new tablecloths, black furniture, polished steel, mirrors, lighting and framed prints.

    The menus arrived and felt immediately comforting. It was a Monday lunch, the start of a new week and we both decided to decline wine. For our starters, we ordered Plum Tomato and Basil Galette and the Spinach and Ricotta Tortelloni. I felt the infusion of wild garlic in the tortelloni which was served warm.

    The main courses of Risotto Nero and Chicken Milanese, Rocket, Parmesan followed suit. My own chicken was beautifully flavoursome. If I am honest, I struggled to finish the huge portion. It was at that moment that I noticed the teeth of my guest opposite. Her mouth had turned completely black. I felt that I needed to do the honourable thing and gently alert her. She was shocked and her white serviette also began to turn black as she delicately wiped her mouth to try and remove traces of the squid ink. At moments like these, we could only laugh together, as I thought that Dracula had arrived.

     

    After the drama of the risotto, we decided to pass on the puddings but enjoy an expresso coffee with some chocolate truffles. Readers will know that I have a sweet tooth and my big eyes noted the temptations of Cappuccino Crème Brûlée, Mousse aux Deux Chocolats, Hokey Pokey Coupe, Treacle Tart with Cornish Clotted Cream, Scandinavian Iced Berries with White Chocolate Sauce, Tarte Tatin with Cinnamon Ice Cream and Rhubarb Crumble with Custard.

    Leaving the restaurant was a bit like old times. You feel valued and don’t receive such a personal and caring gratitude expressed like it anywhere else. Jeremy and I reminisced about what happened to him before. I told him that he was inspirational overcoming adversity and making such a grand return. His long-standing commitment and service to his diners is legendary.

    As I walked away, I remembered Dave Allen again. He once said “You wake to the clock, you go to work to the clock, you clock-in to the clock, you clock out to the clock, you come home to the clock, you eat to the clock, you drink to the clock, you go to bed to the clock, you get up to the clock, you go back to work to the clock… You do that for forty years of your life and you retire — what do they fucking give you? A clock!”

     

    I hope the King of Arlington continues to reign over us and never retires.

  • Ronel Lehmann on 2Veneti: “right up there with the best”

    Ronel Lehmann on 2Veneti

     

    As I was making my way to join a senior colleague in this Wigmore Street restaurant, my thoughts abruptly turned to a breaking news alert on my mobile phone that a new satellite is now able to detect emissions of methane, an invisible yet potent gas that is dangerously heating the planet.

    It reminded me that the day before I had succumbed to a Jerusalem Artichoke Velouté at Coq d’Argent, a French restaurant perched high up in the heart of the city. The significant side effects of dietary inulin fibre apparently is a contributory factor and the cause of flatulence.

    To my abject horror, I noticed that my host had one of her two wrists in plaster. The greeting at 2Veneti is “Magna e Tasi, Bevi e godi” which translates to “Eat and shush, drink and enjoy.” Although I was immediately made to feel at home, I was concerned about whether I would be required to cut up her food as clearly operating with one hand in 2Veneti was going to be challenging. There was real trattoria décor and character in the restaurant which filled up quickly with the lunch service.

    Although we were supposed to be working afterwards, the owner charged our two glasses of wine to accompany our meal. My colleague enjoyed a glass of Lugana di Sirmione. Avanzi. 2022 Veneto, Turbiana grape, which she remarked was rounded with a pleasant generous velvety taste. From lake Garda I myself enjoyed the Bardolino Chiaretto. Cavalchina 2022 Veneto which was a Light pink Bardolino, Provence in style, smooth and elegant.

    A bread basket of focaccia was served and it was light, airy and Moorish. My colleague began by ordering Carpaccio di Manzo con maionese al Parmigiano e tartufo nero, beef carpaccio with parmesan mayonnaise and black truffle whereas I chose the vitello tonnato, thinly sliced veal with tuna, capers, mayonnaise and pickled onion. Both starters were delicious and beautifully presented.

    As the plates were cleared, I noticed that my colleague was managing to eat the food very respectfully. I asked the owner about the name 2Veneti. He responded that there were two original partners from Venice, hence 2Veneti. A simple and plausible explanation which made perfect sense.

    The ravioli del plin con fonduta di formaggi arrived. This was baby ravioli filled with beef and cheese fondue. I decided not to have the black truffle sauce and was encouraging the waitress to provide additional aged Parmigiano-Reggiano which she readily obliged.

    My colleague enjoyed a plate of gnocchi di patate fatti in casa con radicchio e formaggio Monte Veronese, a wonderful homemade potato gnocchi with radicchio and Monte Veronese cheese.

    No Italian meal is without a resplendent bowl of zucchini, and we shared a giant helping together. The pudding menus arrived, and we decided to share a pistachio and vanilla ice cream.

    When you think of the great Italian restaurants in London, you might be minded to mention The River Café, Sartoria and Santini. 2Veneti is right up there with the best. The service is welcoming, friendly and efficient. Regulars in Marylebone and Mayfair will tell you it is a best kept secret. I cannot wait to try the other dishes when I return. Hopefully the satellite picked up the heat of our smiling faces as we returned to the office.

  • Crown London Restaurant Review: A Culinary Delight Beneath the Casino

    Ronel Lehmann

     

    It is Safer Gambling Week (13th – 19th November 2023) and I decided to visit a restaurant below a casino where they have launched a new menu.

    Located in the historic heart of Mayfair, the building that houses Crown London dates to the 17th century. Once fondly known as The White Elephant Club, this private dining institution was the place to be and frequented by Hollywood stars and high society. We were greeted by a brass elephant on the front step; a beautiful nod to the past, whilst embracing the present and welcoming in the future.

    As this is a private members club, it took quite a few minutes in reception to register on their iPad, join the Aspinall’s membership and to prove my identity and progress into Crown London. My guest did find this a bit disconcerting until at the end of the next final enrolment pages, we were told that this could have all been completed online before we arrived.

    I hadn’t brought my Passport or Driving Licence, but my guest did, and she was cleared for the dining room before me. I followed behind her to the warmest of welcomes, first from the bar manager who proffered an aperitif or cocktail and then the Restaurant Manager who so welcoming, it felt like coming home.

    It was a cold crisp evening and we elected to be shown straight to the table. We like round tables, and the seating was extremely comfortable. Our serviettes were immediately placed onto our laps, a refreshing warm towel was provided and still water chosen, before a warm breadbasket arrived, and menus placed before us. My guest’s handbag was given a special sofa stool much to her delight so that she wouldn’t have to lean far to grab her mobile phone.

    The dining room was extremely visually attractive as there had been Diwali celebrations the night before. There were more elephants, striking coloured parasols and a variety of spotlights. We hadn’t seen any food yet, but I sensed that it was going to be featuring on Instagram before too long and her handbag was within easy reach.

    As my guest was driving, she elected to have a refreshing blackberry mocktail. There was a debate about whether she preferred sweet or bitter, and when it arrived in all its glory, a punnet of blackberry’s was presented to show the freshness from the hand-picked blackberry bush. It tasted divine until I ordered a glass of Bourgogne Pinot Noir Maison Nuiton-Beaunoy 2020. This was so smooth and chilled.

    Our orders were taken, and the starters arrived promptly. Asparagus soup, poached egg, toasted almonds, black truffle and Devon crab with avocado and lemongrass dressing. The mobile phone camera came out the handbag before we had a chance to savour and savour, we did. The asparagus soup was silken green, and my guest found the egg delicious. I requested some extra lemon but to be fair, the crab had the citrus fruit infused together with chilli.

    After a short pause in which we discussed our new favourite place, the mains arrived. My guest had selected a Sirloin steak served medium with sweet miso sauce and grilled hispi cabbage. She wasn’t a fan of the cabbage, but I tasted it, and found that it was sweeter than others and served with a grilled gratin.

    I ordered the beef cheek, which is one of my favourite dishes. It was served with a celeriac purée, a leek and mushroom croquette. The Barolo 34 sauce was poured around the edge of the plate. I was pleased that we didn’t order any potatoes in preference to two side dishes, a Lebanese salad, cucumber, tomatoes, peppers, mint with pomegranate dressing and grilled vegetables with a rosemary dressing. I chose another glass of red wine and enjoyed the Château Garraud Lalande de Pomerol 2016.

    For puddings, Ginger & lime crème brûlée and Pistachio Lamington with cherry ripple ice cream followed. We were both in heaven and sipped mint tea at the end of the meal. I asked to see the Head Chef and thanked him for the feast.

    As we left the exquisite taste of both deserts lingered on. I imagined that eating at Crown London was better than winning at the roulette table. Let’s talk about Safer Gambling. We never saw a croupier.

     

    www.27restaurantandbar.co.uk

    www.safergamblinguk.org

     

  • Bellamy’s Restaurant Review: A Regal Dining Experience in Mayfair

    Bellamy’s Restaurant Review, Ronel Lehmann

    Hidden off Berkeley Square down Bruton Place is one of the late Queen Elizabeth II’s favourite French restaurants, Bellamy’s in Mayfair. I had never dined there and was delighted when one of my senior colleagues decided to treat me to dinner. There she was sat resplendent at the bar holding fort with a cocktail when I arrived.

    I was immediately relieved of my coat and umbrella whilst the receptionist welcomed me and took a phone call at the same time. I thought about my busy day and how deft I was at multitasking, but she was on another level. Luigi Burgio, Bellamy’s Manager, greeted me as a regular customer which helped set the scene for a special dining experience and ushered us to a corner table.

    Normally I am the host, but my colleague insisted that I behave as a good guest, so I sat regally on the banquet. The first thing that I noticed was the upholstery. It was firm and very supportive of the back, and for once I didn’t need a pillow or be seated on a chair. The waiter was very attentive and sparkling mineral water was chosen.

    Bellamy’s restaurant is a calm oasis, tables are positioned to afford privacy and the walls were full of interesting art and prints. The mirrors positioned beside us allowed you a real time reflection of guest’s arrival and departure without having to look away.

    Gavin Rankin, the owner then arrived and extended us a warm welcome. He stopped by all the tables. I liked his style and genuine care for diners. I learned that his nonagenarian mother still makes the chocolate pudding for the restaurant, and I was salivating at the prospect.

    The menus arrived. It was very comprehensive, and I noted some favourites including, Apple, Endive and Walnut gratin; Salad of Artichoke Heart & Haricot Verts; Ravioles de Royans; Smoked Eel Mousse; and Entrecôte frites. For a moment, it reminded me of my student days in France, when ordering Steak frites. I only discovered after enjoying the meal, that it was in fact horse meat. It was therefore reassuring to read that the Entrecôte was Baynards Park Beef and not from one of the Royal fillies.

    We both elected for the Table D’Hôte, which translates as Table of the Host. Three courses were priced at £35 which struck me as extremely good value.

    We both decided to select the Soupe Paysanne, it was a cold night, the hearty bowl was hot, filling and delicious. After a short break Chicken Breast a l’estragon with mashed potato arrived. It was exceptional and very tender. The potato soaked up the delicious tarragon infused sauce on my plate. When I had run out of potato, I helped myself to my hosts chips. The chips were some of the best I have tasted in London. I continued eating chips. The chopped salad du jour was a perfect accompaniment to our main courses. The sommelier suggested a pairing of red and white wines and my lips still found time to enjoy the lingering after taste of tarragon.

    You cannot ignore the pudding menu and we both went off piste ignoring Crème Catalane. My host chose salted caramel ice cream which was served soft in a frosted glass. I elected to go for the Ile Flottante, so that I could return to the chocolate pudding another time. Yes, I did try the ice cream and it was sensational. My host had enjoyed Ile Flottante before, so by the time I had tried to stop eating her ice cream, I was ready to go to floating heaven. The Ile Flottante was sensational, better than in France. This famous dessert consists of meringue floating on crème anglaise. It was so light and airy.

    We declined coffee, tea and digestives and then a bowl of smooth milk chocolates arrived. Being a gentleman, I did offer to the pay the bill before being chastised and beginning my lonely walk of shame back to transport home. I was sure that I heard a Rossignol (a French Nightingale) sing in Berkeley Square.

     

     

  • Review of Galvin at Windows: “reliably first rate”

    Christopher Jackson

    ‘Now is the time for eating. Later is the time for regret.” So said my companion as we sat down to lunch at Galvin at Windows. In the end we had the eating, but not the regret.

    But first the view: London, unlike New York and Paris both of which are built to comprehensible plans, looks delightfully mad from the skies. The Thames is never quite where you think it should be, swerving in and out of everything, seeming to force the architecture into unexpected arrangements. From on high, you realise too that the tube map is a perfect liar, giving you a false sense of distance and relationship when you travel through it.

    From the 28th floor of the Hilton Park Lane you discover if you didn’t know it already that London is a mystifying place to live. What is Westminster Cathedral doing being so near, for instance, to the back garden of Buckingham Palace? Throughout our meal, we were able to see a peaceful soul mowing the gardens at the palace, looking in his way more kingly than the king. Talking of the regal, there was also an emperor of a seagull presiding over the area near Vauxhall, a bird who, we came to decide, certainly views Nine Elms as his terrain not ours. I noted the occasional stray drone skating along clouds – inquisitive, knowing things we didn’t.

    But we knew also what it did not: the supreme glory of the food at Galvin at Windows. The butter came, slightly fanned and petalled, like an apricot rose on a basalt slab. The butter-knife resembled a sort of bladed paperweight, whose balance would self-correct if you nudged it so that its sharp end always pointed upwards. Like this, admiring a minor novelty, we embarked on one of the meals of our lives.

    In retrospect greatness was coming at us from every possible angle; but I think it was the service which began to alert us to the sheer quality of the afternoon. One by one, good-humoured and knowledgeable staff arrived at our table, conducting the rituals of public dining with a notable intelligence and thoughtfulness. A great meal must of necessity be to some extent incidental to the food: a Burger King would have tasted good up here.

    But happily, this was no fast food experience. Tasting the bread, we already knew that the food at Galvin would be reliably first rate. At around this point, the attentions of Rudina Arapi began to weave in and out of the experience. Arapi cheerfully told us about her upcoming sommelier exams – and the thoughtful pairings throughout the meal make me think she’s likely a shoo-in for these.

    Hearing that I wasn’t drinking alcohol, she caused a revelation in the shape of a few glasses of Wild Idol, the closest non-alcoholic approximation to champagne I’ve experienced – only the very slightest alien tang giving the game away.

    Food-wise, we started with caviar, which came amassed on an oyster shell at the centre of a plate of ice. Adjacent to it, was an oblong plate of bite-sized pancakes together with a tiny china saucepan of whipped cream cheese, sprinkled with chives. I recommend trying the caviar without any additional flavour in the first place so as to concentrate entirely on the pop and brine-rush of the little fish beads.

    This was mere prelude to our main courses. I consulted the menu. After a period of anxiety, where every decision seemed to cordon off too many delightful possibilities, I opted – grieving for what I wouldn’t eat – for the artichoke soup. But I hadn’t erred: what emerged was a gorgeous broth, topped with truffles. I found myself reflecting that I never regret ordering soup. My companion went with the crab, which came with a veritable garden of edible flowers, as well as dill. A generous splash of caviar was to one side – like a kindness when someone doesn’t demand a thank you.

    By the time of the main, I was by any reasonable standards already full – almost to the extent where food was beginning to present itself as a dangerous notion. But I had previously committed to a bulky steak. At this point – though my steak was delicious, I might have preferred the cod which my companion had ordered: a thing of delicate crutons, scattered capers, grapefruit, and mash.

    No onlooker, seeing what we had already eaten, would have expected us to order dessert. But our ambition had increased, and so had our curiosity regarding what was possible. Not to eat dessert would have been like hearing the first four movements of Beethoven’s Ninth, and not listening to the finale. That would be to miss out on the Ode to Joy.

    I opted for the araguani chocolate and dulce de leche, which came with banana and lime ice cream, topped with a sort of hyperloop of caramelised banana. To my own amazement, its deliciousness caused me to eat it in its entriety. My companion meanwhile showed no compunction about finishing her apple tarte tatin, with Calvados caramel and Tahitian vanilla ice cream.

    When she laid down her spoon, it was with the confidence of the soothsayer who has been proven right. It had indeed been the time for eating. We had done our duty – and perhaps if you’re reading this, you should too.

    To make a booking go to www.galvinatwindows.com

     

     

     

     

  • Meraki: A Delightful Dining Experience

    Gift of the Gab, Meraki Review, Ronel Lehmann

     

    Planning to visit a restaurant is a bit like being on a conveyor belt. Firstly, you phone to make a reservation. Bubula, known for its middle eastern feasts doesn’t have a phone number for bookings. So, you then resort to sending an email, which results in an out of office reply and then you decide to take your chance for a walk-in table. It seems that everyone else did the same, and the next table was not going to be free for 90 minutes.

    We were patient but not as patient as the welcome and decided to continue up Great Titchfield Street to that famous trattoria, Sergio’s. Despite a warmer welcome than Bubula, they too were fully booked. And so, we stumbled into Meraki. Meraki is a name that indicates a gift of gab – the ability to persuade others effortlessly.

    The good news was that they had a table. The unwelcome news was that we had to endure being told that we had only ninety minutes to enjoy dinner. Then there was passport control. Our name and telephone number were requested so presumably they could capture all our details and market their restaurant to us in future. Or perhaps it was in case there was a fire in the kitchen, and they needed to be sure that we were accounted for during an exit.

     

    Seated at a table for two, the menus arrived. I dispensed with these, saying that the menu needed explaining to us: fortunately the waiter turned out to be more than proficient and courteous. I was still smarting from being cross-examined by reception. Tap water was provided, my guest had a cranberry juice, and I ordered an ice cold Keo, from Cyprus. I always like a light straw-coloured lager and this was no exception.

    The last time we booked a Greek restaurant in Camden, I booked Alexander The Great. It was during the meal I looked out the window to my left and saw the fluorescent sign. We had sat down in Andromeda which was directly opposite and found ourselves in the middle of the meal before noticing. I then had to telephone Alexander The Great from a Greek restaurant opposite to apologise that we were not going to make it. You will appreciate I did not want to look out of the window of Meraki in case border control was searching for me.

    It was time to order. I never like to dwell too much over the menus and don’t like drinking on an empty stomach. Quick choices were made including Aubergine Melitzanosalata, smoked aubergine. parsley, florina pepper; a bread basket containing pita, ladopita, focaccia, sourdough, olive; Mykonian Salad, tomato, ‘kritamo’, cucumber, olive, feta; Taramasalata, white cod roe emulsion, smoked herring caviar, bottarga; Tzatziki, Greek yogurt, garlic, mint, courgette; Hummus, Crispy chickpea, toasted buckwheat seed; before we drew breath. I myself don’t particularly like Taramasalata, however, this tasted unlike any that I have tried before.

    The waiter returned and after topping up our drinks, invited us to try the chicken and lamb kebabs. Two small skewers arrived for each, the chicken was so tender, beautifully marinated with basil and yoghurt. The lamb was served with florina pepper, hummus, parsley. We could have gone on with another round but saved some space for pudding.

    We shared a plate of Saragli, rolled baklava, caramelised nuts and vanilla ice cream.

    On the way out, I remarked to my guest whether we could remember the names of the twelve Greek Gods. They are of course, Zeus, Poseidon, Hera, Hestia, Demeter, Hades, Apollo, Artemis, Hermes, Athena, Hephaestus, Aphrodite and Ares.

    Meraki is right up there.

     

    Ronel Lehmann is Chief Executive of Finito Education