THE LUXURY TRAVEL
MAGAZINE FOR INDEPENDENT
TRAVELLERS
MICHELIN STARS
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Star struck
Jane Broughton, together with husband Michael (chef-patron of Stellenbosch restaurant, Terroir, near Cape Town), recently enjoyed a taste of the Michelin-starred circuit in London and came back with her senses in overdrive and a new understanding of ingredient-driven food.
Text Jane Broughton
Photography Jane Broughton & Restaurant Gordon Ramsay, Le Gavroche, The Fat Duck, The Square
Published 25th February 2008
Planning the foodie pilgrimage to London started months before departure. My weakness has always been the meticulous planning of any event as if it were a military campaign. And I have to confess that in recent years, even children’s birthday parties have been easy targets for my obsession with colour-coded cupcakes. So this long anticipated trip, to eat at a few deliberately chosen London restaurants (plus a side trip to Paris thrown in for good measure), was no exception.
I knew where we had to eat. Michael (view pofile) has read everything ever written by technically precise super-chefs such as Gordon Ramsay and Heston Blumenthal, and this was his chance to taste dishes – many of which he was already familiar with from the cookbooks – at first hand. Friends with educated, well-travelled palates, such as Lannice Snyman (one of the judges of the San Pellegrino World's 50 Best Restaurants list) and Silwood Kitchen’s Alicia Wilkinson (head of one of Cape Town’s most reputable cookery schools), insisted that Le Gavroche, where chef Michel Roux continues a 40-year family tradition of classic-based French cuisine, be added to our hit list. Michael had also eaten a memorable dinner on a previous trip at The Square, a two Michelin-starred restaurant in Mayfair headed up by the low-key, very likeable Phil Howard. The Square seemed like the perfect foil to the hyped up glamour of the Ramsay empire or the boundary-pushing tasting menu of the Fat Duck.
Of course, London is full of more fashionable, much newer restaurants presided over by younger chefs with Michelin stars in their eyes. It would have been all too easy to be swayed by the line-up of tapas bars I’d heard great things about, such as Barafinas and Salt Yard. And then there was the allure of a late dinner at see-and-be-seen Locanda Locatelli to overcome! But our mission was to experience the sort of benchmark establishments where ‘fine dining’ – instead of being an over-used misnomer – is still alive and kicking and, in this affluent first-world setting, still makes perfect sense.
A fear of foie gras overload – the foodie equivalent to burn out - meant that, for the most part, we planned only one blow-out meal a day. It was a clever strategy, allowing for plenty of hours between one degustation menu and the next. In between, we would be able to walk off the excess and build up the requisite appetite to start all over again. Gung-ho with excitement, we had initially booked an array of restaurants for dinner too. But after the first lunchtime extravaganza – this was a five-hour eating marathon at Restaurant Gordon Ramsay on Royal Hospital Road – we admitted defeat and cancelled the lot. I never did get to Locanda Locatelli, but my digestion was probably grateful.
Booking tables is not a simple task. ‘It can turn into a bit of a lottery’, clucked the receptionist at the Fat Duck when I called three months in advance to check the protocol and sharpen up my booking strategy. What I – and the scores of other hopefuls around the globe - had to do was phone the restaurant precisely 60 days before we wanted to dine and then hope like hell that all the tables had not been taken by the time we got through.
Which is why, on a morning game drive in Kwandwe Private Game Reserve in the Eastern Cape in July, I had to apologise to the family, beg our game ranger to stop on a hilltop, whip out my mobile phone and book lunch for September. Some 20 minutes later, table of four secured amidst whoops of delight, our ranger rolled his eyes in disbelief at the lengths some people would go to eat at one of the most famous restaurants in the world. Booking Restaurant Gordon Ramsay was a similar nail-biting process – a follow-up fax with credit card details was required before the reservation was secured.
Tables all booked, we struck it lucky with the offer of a room at the Montague on the Gardens, one of four luxury hotels owned by the Red Carnation group in central London, at a much reduced rate. Five minutes from Russell Square, the British Museum and the tube, the Montague on the Gardens is bang in the middle of Bloomsbury with a romantic literary history to match.
In our house this highly researched, 10-day eating frenzy was soon referred to as the ‘grown-up holiday’, a phrase coined by three-year old Sarah to explain to everyone from her younger brother to supermarket cashiers the significance and impact of our imminent departure. And in the days before we flew to London, the anticipation of our ‘grown-up holiday’ never failed to thrill me! Michael was in need of inspiration and a jolly good break from his own kitchen; I was along for the ride, excited about the prospect of sharpening my knowledge, educating my palate and dressing for dinner. Sensible shoes were left behind in favour of heels and pretty pumps; little black numbers and a smart coat became my new capsule wardrobe.
RESTAURANT GORDON RAMSAY
Day One, and a delayed flight between Cape Town and London meant that we were in danger of missing lunch at our first stop, the three-Michelin starred Restaurant Gordon Ramsay. Touching down at Heathrow five hours late meant changing into our glad rags in the toilets on the Heathrow Express, enlisting the help of a maniacal cab driver to rush us from Paddington to Royal Hospital Road in record time and arriving unfashionably late at Gordon Ramsay with our luggage in tow.
I loved maître D Jean-Claude on sight for not raising so much as a well-trained eyebrow, while simultaneously getting rid of our suitcases, seating us in the hushed dining room and proffering a glass of Champagne. Our choice of the seven-course Menu Prestige swiftly became a staggering 14 courses thanks to the kitchen brigade sending us each a different dish for each course.
Just as an exquisite slab of seared foie gras classically paired with a red wine reduction and sweet almond foam was placed before me, I became aware of a commotion on the pavement outside the restaurant. A surreal scene followed: two young men with loudhailers began protesting enthusiastically against the consumption of foie gras and handing out pamphlets to passers by. Just then, a small delivery van pulled up outside the restaurant to drop off an order of foie gras and nearly got vandalised in the process. Inside, diners giggled nervously into their foie gras, while the waiters continued to glide across the room with studied concentration.
Looking back to that first lunch, I realize now that eating your way through multiple-course lunches in Michelin-starred restaurants probably takes years of practice. Pacing yourself is essential, but we were too high on the experience and too excited to care. We ate the lot! What stood out were the signature Ramsay reductions, sauces and foams, intense flavours spooned by the waiter from miniature copper saucepans onto your plate at the table. Besides the aforementioned foie gras and a dish of pan-fried sea scallops with wafer-thin pickled octopus and parmesan sauce, the desserts stole the show.
Anybody who has read Ramsay’s dessert recipes will understand this. My favourite was a fresh peach and apricot smoothie topped with Amaretto cream and the snap, crackle and pop of ‘space dust’ as a surprise element. Needless to say, we rolled out of there and didn’t eat anything until the following day.
LE GAVROCHE
I went to Le Gavroche expecting it to be slightly fuddy-duddy, curious to understand its on-going appeal in a market flooded with new arrivals and trendier offerings. The plush, mirrored interiors with booth seating and stylised over-the-top arrangements of heavily perfumed blooms were to be expected, reminiscent of the Mount Nelson’s Grill Room of my childhood, in Cape Town – a place of dinner dances and dessert trollies.
What I hadn’t bargained for was falling in love with Le Gavroche’s rock-solid sense of tradition and family history. Taking its name from the character in Les Miserables, the figurine of the little boy is worked into the details, from the heavy silver cutlery to the silver cloches and plates. And then there’s the faultless, old-fashioned service.
Most of the staff are French (or at least speak French), and many of them have worked their way up from the bottom. The assistant restaurant manager Emmanuel, who has been working for Michel Roux for nine years, started out polishing the crystal before service. The manager has been at Le Gavroche since it opened 40 years ago.
We were there for a Friday lunch, and the dining room was soon buzzing with lively conversation and laughter – completely different to the hushed atmosphere at Ramsay. How wonderful to see that lunch is still very much in vogue.
I knew where we had to eat. Michael (view pofile) has read everything ever written by technically precise super-chefs such as Gordon Ramsay and Heston Blumenthal, and this was his chance to taste dishes – many of which he was already familiar with from the cookbooks – at first hand. Friends with educated, well-travelled palates, such as Lannice Snyman (one of the judges of the San Pellegrino World's 50 Best Restaurants list) and Silwood Kitchen’s Alicia Wilkinson (head of one of Cape Town’s most reputable cookery schools), insisted that Le Gavroche, where chef Michel Roux continues a 40-year family tradition of classic-based French cuisine, be added to our hit list. Michael had also eaten a memorable dinner on a previous trip at The Square, a two Michelin-starred restaurant in Mayfair headed up by the low-key, very likeable Phil Howard. The Square seemed like the perfect foil to the hyped up glamour of the Ramsay empire or the boundary-pushing tasting menu of the Fat Duck.
Of course, London is full of more fashionable, much newer restaurants presided over by younger chefs with Michelin stars in their eyes. It would have been all too easy to be swayed by the line-up of tapas bars I’d heard great things about, such as Barafinas and Salt Yard. And then there was the allure of a late dinner at see-and-be-seen Locanda Locatelli to overcome! But our mission was to experience the sort of benchmark establishments where ‘fine dining’ – instead of being an over-used misnomer – is still alive and kicking and, in this affluent first-world setting, still makes perfect sense.
A fear of foie gras overload – the foodie equivalent to burn out - meant that, for the most part, we planned only one blow-out meal a day. It was a clever strategy, allowing for plenty of hours between one degustation menu and the next. In between, we would be able to walk off the excess and build up the requisite appetite to start all over again. Gung-ho with excitement, we had initially booked an array of restaurants for dinner too. But after the first lunchtime extravaganza – this was a five-hour eating marathon at Restaurant Gordon Ramsay on Royal Hospital Road – we admitted defeat and cancelled the lot. I never did get to Locanda Locatelli, but my digestion was probably grateful.
Booking tables is not a simple task. ‘It can turn into a bit of a lottery’, clucked the receptionist at the Fat Duck when I called three months in advance to check the protocol and sharpen up my booking strategy. What I – and the scores of other hopefuls around the globe - had to do was phone the restaurant precisely 60 days before we wanted to dine and then hope like hell that all the tables had not been taken by the time we got through.
Which is why, on a morning game drive in Kwandwe Private Game Reserve in the Eastern Cape in July, I had to apologise to the family, beg our game ranger to stop on a hilltop, whip out my mobile phone and book lunch for September. Some 20 minutes later, table of four secured amidst whoops of delight, our ranger rolled his eyes in disbelief at the lengths some people would go to eat at one of the most famous restaurants in the world. Booking Restaurant Gordon Ramsay was a similar nail-biting process – a follow-up fax with credit card details was required before the reservation was secured.
Tables all booked, we struck it lucky with the offer of a room at the Montague on the Gardens, one of four luxury hotels owned by the Red Carnation group in central London, at a much reduced rate. Five minutes from Russell Square, the British Museum and the tube, the Montague on the Gardens is bang in the middle of Bloomsbury with a romantic literary history to match.
In our house this highly researched, 10-day eating frenzy was soon referred to as the ‘grown-up holiday’, a phrase coined by three-year old Sarah to explain to everyone from her younger brother to supermarket cashiers the significance and impact of our imminent departure. And in the days before we flew to London, the anticipation of our ‘grown-up holiday’ never failed to thrill me! Michael was in need of inspiration and a jolly good break from his own kitchen; I was along for the ride, excited about the prospect of sharpening my knowledge, educating my palate and dressing for dinner. Sensible shoes were left behind in favour of heels and pretty pumps; little black numbers and a smart coat became my new capsule wardrobe.
RESTAURANT GORDON RAMSAY
Day One, and a delayed flight between Cape Town and London meant that we were in danger of missing lunch at our first stop, the three-Michelin starred Restaurant Gordon Ramsay. Touching down at Heathrow five hours late meant changing into our glad rags in the toilets on the Heathrow Express, enlisting the help of a maniacal cab driver to rush us from Paddington to Royal Hospital Road in record time and arriving unfashionably late at Gordon Ramsay with our luggage in tow.
I loved maître D Jean-Claude on sight for not raising so much as a well-trained eyebrow, while simultaneously getting rid of our suitcases, seating us in the hushed dining room and proffering a glass of Champagne. Our choice of the seven-course Menu Prestige swiftly became a staggering 14 courses thanks to the kitchen brigade sending us each a different dish for each course.
Just as an exquisite slab of seared foie gras classically paired with a red wine reduction and sweet almond foam was placed before me, I became aware of a commotion on the pavement outside the restaurant. A surreal scene followed: two young men with loudhailers began protesting enthusiastically against the consumption of foie gras and handing out pamphlets to passers by. Just then, a small delivery van pulled up outside the restaurant to drop off an order of foie gras and nearly got vandalised in the process. Inside, diners giggled nervously into their foie gras, while the waiters continued to glide across the room with studied concentration.
Looking back to that first lunch, I realize now that eating your way through multiple-course lunches in Michelin-starred restaurants probably takes years of practice. Pacing yourself is essential, but we were too high on the experience and too excited to care. We ate the lot! What stood out were the signature Ramsay reductions, sauces and foams, intense flavours spooned by the waiter from miniature copper saucepans onto your plate at the table. Besides the aforementioned foie gras and a dish of pan-fried sea scallops with wafer-thin pickled octopus and parmesan sauce, the desserts stole the show.
Anybody who has read Ramsay’s dessert recipes will understand this. My favourite was a fresh peach and apricot smoothie topped with Amaretto cream and the snap, crackle and pop of ‘space dust’ as a surprise element. Needless to say, we rolled out of there and didn’t eat anything until the following day.
LE GAVROCHE
I went to Le Gavroche expecting it to be slightly fuddy-duddy, curious to understand its on-going appeal in a market flooded with new arrivals and trendier offerings. The plush, mirrored interiors with booth seating and stylised over-the-top arrangements of heavily perfumed blooms were to be expected, reminiscent of the Mount Nelson’s Grill Room of my childhood, in Cape Town – a place of dinner dances and dessert trollies.
What I hadn’t bargained for was falling in love with Le Gavroche’s rock-solid sense of tradition and family history. Taking its name from the character in Les Miserables, the figurine of the little boy is worked into the details, from the heavy silver cutlery to the silver cloches and plates. And then there’s the faultless, old-fashioned service.
Most of the staff are French (or at least speak French), and many of them have worked their way up from the bottom. The assistant restaurant manager Emmanuel, who has been working for Michel Roux for nine years, started out polishing the crystal before service. The manager has been at Le Gavroche since it opened 40 years ago.
We were there for a Friday lunch, and the dining room was soon buzzing with lively conversation and laughter – completely different to the hushed atmosphere at Ramsay. How wonderful to see that lunch is still very much in vogue.
Besides the seamless service, the obvious draw card is Michel Roux’s elegant food, drawing on his French roots yet grounded confidently in contemporary London. There’s a GBP48 set menu that not only offers value for money but a top-class three-course lunch in an hour. Since we didn’t have to go back to the office, our choice was the eight-course ‘menu exceptionnel’ with wines to match.
From the first course of rare peppered tuna with spicy ginger and sesame dressing served with ice-cold cherry beer, to the oeufs a la Neige (floating islands with poached strawberries) accompanied by a 2001 Vin de Constance, the menu was perfectly balanced and executed. Restraint and simplicity – wild salmon with crispy skin, braised peas and bacon, for example – was followed by the decadent richness of hot foie gras with a crispy duck and cinnamon pancake.
The entire lunch was an education in the provenance of superior ingredients, not least the cheese trolley loaded with so many varieties I lost count (more than 40). Right at the end, after exquisite petit fours and fresh mint tea, came a silver bowl of ripe plums the size of grapes. I was sold!
THE FAT DUCK
The next morning, we took the train from Paddington to Maidenhead, the closest village to Bray – home of the Fat Duck, Heston Blumenthal’s restaurant named ‘number two’ in Restaurant magazine’s list of the Top 50 Restaurants in the World. We were lunching with London friends, and after much debate we opted for the à la carte menu (£80 GBP) instead of the famous tasting menu (£115 GBP). After the previous two days, my constitution and stamina for packing away foie gras was already failing me. Thankfully, some of the highlights of the tasting menu – in particular, the scrambled egg and bacon ice-cream – were available à la carte. We made sure that we each chose something different, and waited for the first course to arrive.
Instead, we were seduced Fat Duck style by a series of unexpected amuse-bouches, including a Pommery mustard ice cream with red cabbage gazpacho and a single oyster served with passionfruit jelly, horseradish foam and lavender-and-pepper brittle (at the end, all I could taste was the tangy, sea water freshness of the oyster – sublime). To go into detailed descriptions of each dish we ate would be a waste of time – you had to be there to appreciate the way in which combinations of flavours and textures are layered and combined, so as to challenge the senses with every mouthful. Nothing is what it seems. Even the logo makes you look twice: the knife is a feather, the fork is a webbed foot, and the spoon is a beak.
It’s all very clever and amusing, yet some dishes were more about the tricks and conceits and less about flavour and taste. Michael’s lasagne of langoustine with pig’s trotter and truffle was a winner; my cauliflower risotto with carpaccio of cauliflower and chocolate jelly was bland by comparison. By the time we’d received our main courses, I had the feeling that the Fat Duck wasn’t having a good day. Service was erratic and impersonal, and the time between courses was unacceptably long (and we were only eating three!).
A waitress circled the tables with a huge basket of truly excellent sourdough bread, but that’s not what I wanted. Desserts, when they finally arrived, were technically precise and beautiful. The bacon and egg ice cream - the eggs theatrically scrambled at the table using liquid nitrogen by a snooty French waitress - was a highlight. Served on pain perdu with ‘Earl Grey tea’ (in jelly form!) for afterwards, by now we were unanimously hooked on Heston Blumenthal’s genius. Most of this brilliance is in the details, such as the violet tartlets the size of a coin, whiskey jellies, carrot and mandarin-flavoured lollipops and chocolate ‘aero’ at the end.
THE SQUARE
The following evening, we took a cab to The Square, a sleek space in keeping with its Mayfair location of contemporary art galleries, couture boutiques (Stella McCartney’s shop front lit up in neon pink) and luxury car showrooms. It might have had something to do with the fact that we met the chef, who generously offered us complimentary wines matched to the tasting menu, but this turned out to be my favourite restaurant of the trip.
Impossibly sweet and tender langoustine tails with Parmesan gnocchi, field-mushroom purée and a potato-and truffle-emulsion; Orkney Island scallop with cep-and-prawn risotto; and John Dory with an intense, sweet onion purée, thyme and black rice all spoke louder than the swish decor, charming sommelier (he could have suggested Coca-Cola with something, and I would have believed him) and the sheer romance of being in London on a Sunday night with my husband. Michael raved about the Bresse pigeon with a tarte fine of figs and glazed endive. In sum, we were bowled over by the intense flavours and bold seasoning of everything we tasted.
It’s a mystery to me how I always find space for dessert. Black Forest gateaux soufflé, with a spoonful of vanilla-cherry ice cream inside, was preceded by the daintiest sugar beignet with vanilla yoghurt and raspberry coulis for dipping. The line-up of petit fours – including lollies and jellies in flavour combinations such as pineapple and hibiscus or jasmine and citrus – left a lasting impression. I can’t wait to hear if Phil Howard gets awarded a third star in the near future – he deserves it.
Thinking about it all in retrospect, as much as food has evolved and moved forward thanks to new cooking methods, flavour combinations, superior ingredients and the influence of the new foodie heroes such as Ferran Adrià and Heston Blumenthal, in the Michelin-starred world of fine dining the same basics and principles continue to apply. Gordon Ramsay and the rest of the culinary mega stars are still doing classic pairings – foie gras with red wine reduction or pigeon with figs. It’s the execution of the classics, influenced by fashion, that keeps changing.
From the first course of rare peppered tuna with spicy ginger and sesame dressing served with ice-cold cherry beer, to the oeufs a la Neige (floating islands with poached strawberries) accompanied by a 2001 Vin de Constance, the menu was perfectly balanced and executed. Restraint and simplicity – wild salmon with crispy skin, braised peas and bacon, for example – was followed by the decadent richness of hot foie gras with a crispy duck and cinnamon pancake.
The entire lunch was an education in the provenance of superior ingredients, not least the cheese trolley loaded with so many varieties I lost count (more than 40). Right at the end, after exquisite petit fours and fresh mint tea, came a silver bowl of ripe plums the size of grapes. I was sold!
THE FAT DUCK
The next morning, we took the train from Paddington to Maidenhead, the closest village to Bray – home of the Fat Duck, Heston Blumenthal’s restaurant named ‘number two’ in Restaurant magazine’s list of the Top 50 Restaurants in the World. We were lunching with London friends, and after much debate we opted for the à la carte menu (£80 GBP) instead of the famous tasting menu (£115 GBP). After the previous two days, my constitution and stamina for packing away foie gras was already failing me. Thankfully, some of the highlights of the tasting menu – in particular, the scrambled egg and bacon ice-cream – were available à la carte. We made sure that we each chose something different, and waited for the first course to arrive.
Instead, we were seduced Fat Duck style by a series of unexpected amuse-bouches, including a Pommery mustard ice cream with red cabbage gazpacho and a single oyster served with passionfruit jelly, horseradish foam and lavender-and-pepper brittle (at the end, all I could taste was the tangy, sea water freshness of the oyster – sublime). To go into detailed descriptions of each dish we ate would be a waste of time – you had to be there to appreciate the way in which combinations of flavours and textures are layered and combined, so as to challenge the senses with every mouthful. Nothing is what it seems. Even the logo makes you look twice: the knife is a feather, the fork is a webbed foot, and the spoon is a beak.
It’s all very clever and amusing, yet some dishes were more about the tricks and conceits and less about flavour and taste. Michael’s lasagne of langoustine with pig’s trotter and truffle was a winner; my cauliflower risotto with carpaccio of cauliflower and chocolate jelly was bland by comparison. By the time we’d received our main courses, I had the feeling that the Fat Duck wasn’t having a good day. Service was erratic and impersonal, and the time between courses was unacceptably long (and we were only eating three!).
A waitress circled the tables with a huge basket of truly excellent sourdough bread, but that’s not what I wanted. Desserts, when they finally arrived, were technically precise and beautiful. The bacon and egg ice cream - the eggs theatrically scrambled at the table using liquid nitrogen by a snooty French waitress - was a highlight. Served on pain perdu with ‘Earl Grey tea’ (in jelly form!) for afterwards, by now we were unanimously hooked on Heston Blumenthal’s genius. Most of this brilliance is in the details, such as the violet tartlets the size of a coin, whiskey jellies, carrot and mandarin-flavoured lollipops and chocolate ‘aero’ at the end.
THE SQUARE
The following evening, we took a cab to The Square, a sleek space in keeping with its Mayfair location of contemporary art galleries, couture boutiques (Stella McCartney’s shop front lit up in neon pink) and luxury car showrooms. It might have had something to do with the fact that we met the chef, who generously offered us complimentary wines matched to the tasting menu, but this turned out to be my favourite restaurant of the trip.
Impossibly sweet and tender langoustine tails with Parmesan gnocchi, field-mushroom purée and a potato-and truffle-emulsion; Orkney Island scallop with cep-and-prawn risotto; and John Dory with an intense, sweet onion purée, thyme and black rice all spoke louder than the swish decor, charming sommelier (he could have suggested Coca-Cola with something, and I would have believed him) and the sheer romance of being in London on a Sunday night with my husband. Michael raved about the Bresse pigeon with a tarte fine of figs and glazed endive. In sum, we were bowled over by the intense flavours and bold seasoning of everything we tasted.
It’s a mystery to me how I always find space for dessert. Black Forest gateaux soufflé, with a spoonful of vanilla-cherry ice cream inside, was preceded by the daintiest sugar beignet with vanilla yoghurt and raspberry coulis for dipping. The line-up of petit fours – including lollies and jellies in flavour combinations such as pineapple and hibiscus or jasmine and citrus – left a lasting impression. I can’t wait to hear if Phil Howard gets awarded a third star in the near future – he deserves it.
Thinking about it all in retrospect, as much as food has evolved and moved forward thanks to new cooking methods, flavour combinations, superior ingredients and the influence of the new foodie heroes such as Ferran Adrià and Heston Blumenthal, in the Michelin-starred world of fine dining the same basics and principles continue to apply. Gordon Ramsay and the rest of the culinary mega stars are still doing classic pairings – foie gras with red wine reduction or pigeon with figs. It’s the execution of the classics, influenced by fashion, that keeps changing.
RESTAURANT GORDON RAMSAY
Address 68 Royal Hospital Road, London SW3 4HP
Phone +44 20 7352 4441
Fax +44 20 7352 3334
Bookings may only be made by phone exactly two calendar months in advance. Faxed / emailed reservation form to be completed with credit card details to confirm all reservations. All major credit cards accepted.
Dress code Smart with jackets preferred for gentlemen. Jeans, T-shirts or sportswear not accepted.
Website www.gordonramsay.com
LE GAVROCHE
Address 43 Upper Brook Street, London W1K 7QP
Phone +44 20 7408 0881
Fax +44 20 7491 4387
Booking Telephonic booking – fairly simple (best to phone two months in advance to ensure first-choice date and time; the set lunch menu is a value-for-money option worth considering if budget tight). Alternatively, fax or email bookings@le-gavroche.com
Dress code Smart casual. Male diners are required to wear a jacket.
Website www.le-gavroche.co.uk
THE SQUARE
Address 6-10 Bruton Street, London W1J 6PU
Phone +44 20 7495 7100
Booking Telephonic booking – fairly simple here too. We booked two months in advance for a specific date, but worth trying a month or even closer to the time (not as heavily booked up as Gordon Ramsay or The Fat Duck). Note that The Square is a non-smoking restaurant.
Dress code
Website www.squarerestaurant.com
THE FAT DUCK
Address High Street, Bray, Berkshire SL6 2AQ
Phone +44 1628 580 333
Booking Telephonic booking: Lines open between 10am and 5pm Mon to Fri (except between 1 and 2pm). Credit card details required to secure all reservations. Note that there is a cancellation policy (see website) and that The Fat Duck is a non-smoking restaurant.
Dress code There is none.
Website www.fatduck.co.uk
Also note that the maximum number in a party for most top-end restaurants is usually six people – at Gordon Ramsay and Fat Duck for sure.
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Address 68 Royal Hospital Road, London SW3 4HP
Phone +44 20 7352 4441
Fax +44 20 7352 3334
Bookings may only be made by phone exactly two calendar months in advance. Faxed / emailed reservation form to be completed with credit card details to confirm all reservations. All major credit cards accepted.
Dress code Smart with jackets preferred for gentlemen. Jeans, T-shirts or sportswear not accepted.
Website www.gordonramsay.com
LE GAVROCHE
Address 43 Upper Brook Street, London W1K 7QP
Phone +44 20 7408 0881
Fax +44 20 7491 4387
Booking Telephonic booking – fairly simple (best to phone two months in advance to ensure first-choice date and time; the set lunch menu is a value-for-money option worth considering if budget tight). Alternatively, fax or email bookings@le-gavroche.com
Dress code Smart casual. Male diners are required to wear a jacket.
Website www.le-gavroche.co.uk
THE SQUARE
Address 6-10 Bruton Street, London W1J 6PU
Phone +44 20 7495 7100
Booking Telephonic booking – fairly simple here too. We booked two months in advance for a specific date, but worth trying a month or even closer to the time (not as heavily booked up as Gordon Ramsay or The Fat Duck). Note that The Square is a non-smoking restaurant.
Dress code
Website www.squarerestaurant.com
THE FAT DUCK
Address High Street, Bray, Berkshire SL6 2AQ
Phone +44 1628 580 333
Booking Telephonic booking: Lines open between 10am and 5pm Mon to Fri (except between 1 and 2pm). Credit card details required to secure all reservations. Note that there is a cancellation policy (see website) and that The Fat Duck is a non-smoking restaurant.
Dress code There is none.
Website www.fatduck.co.uk
Also note that the maximum number in a party for most top-end restaurants is usually six people – at Gordon Ramsay and Fat Duck for sure.
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Chef Patron Michael Broughton, Terroir
Terroir opened in 2004 on Kleine Zalze wine farm and has quietly become one of the most sought-after gourmet destinations in the Cape winelands, placing Stellenbosch prominently on the culinary map.
Terroir’s chalkboard menu of boldly flavoured, classically inspired food is influenced by what’s in season and, where possible, locally grown produce. Broughton is constantly on the look out for exceptional ingredients, all of which are essential to his ‘deceptively simple’ style of cooking characterised by intense depth of flavour and classic combinations on the plate.
Winner of two consecutive Eat Out Johnny Walker ‘Top 10 restaurants’ awards and named the Eat Out Johnny Walker Restaurant of the Year in 2006.
TERROIR
Address Kleine Zalze Estate, R44 Stellenbosch, Cape, South Africa.
Phone +27 21 880 8167.
Bookings recommended. Phone to book.
Dress code Casual.
Website www.kleinezalze.co.za.
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