What the critics say: Table, The West House…

15th March 2010, 9:44am

A round-up of the latest reviews

Crab Shakk, Glasgow
Kate Spicer, The Sunday Times, 14 March

"Crab Shakk has confidence in itself: it is a simple shellfish restaurant as imagined by the architect John Macleod, who, having been brought up on the Isle of Lewis, is renowned for his restoration of old Hebridean properties. The look here is calm and simple, with exposed sandstone bricks, oak and slate, with glass tiles on the walls. The chairs at the tables don't appear to be any more comfortable than the high stools at the bar, which is where we sit and order a big chunk of menu."

"The crab cakes are famous at the Crab Shakk, and deservedly so; we all had one of these little buttons of just crab, with a hint of chilli and seasoning, and no unnecessary bulking agent — as the gods have it — and all agreed they were near to perfect. Tom was a cautious reviewer's buddy. He knows how hard it is to do restaurants, and how stupidly easy it is to write bad reviews. He wasn't going to play poacher-turned-gamekeeper for me. Neither was he going to get into describing food. 'When I asked how his lemon sole with shallot butter was, he replied, 'It's good.' Why? 'Cos it tastes nice.' What makes it good, though? 'Like I said, 'cos it tastes nice.' I asked Tom if he thought critics were ignorant tossers and he said, 'No... not all of them.'" 

Bistrot Bruno Loubet, London
Giles Coren, The Times, 13 March

"My own starter was corking too. I have no idea what Mauricette is – if not a flame-proof fabric for swaddling babies or a small Fifties automobile specifically aimed at young women – but the snails were big and relaxed and meaty and totally undisgusting, and they danced a little circular jig, alternating with the meatballs in a little May dance on the plate, holding hands and taking turns to be boy and girl. Fun to eat, sweet to look at. 

"The main courses on offer were from the hearty winter stock of French bistro legend: confit lamb shoulder (with a very modern back-up of white beans and preserved lemon with green harissa); wood pigeon; daube Provencale. And then there was a famous dish of Loubet's: Hare Royale, onion raviolo, pumpkin and dried mandarin purée – a big, dark puck of braised meat on a firm pat of sweet bright orange with a little white hat of pasta filled with an onion compote. 'Fantastic!' said Tony and then managed to eat little more than half, so big and brown and rich and unforgiving was it. Like eating Philip Green."

Table, Brighton
Jasper Gerard, The Telegraph, 12 March

"I begin with porcini, celery heart and mascarpone risotto; my guest with gnocchi and braised oxtail. It all looks lovely, particularly the oxtail garlanded around the bowl. The delicious gnocchi is light and fluffy thanks to semolina (and lashings of butter) in place of potato. This is finished under the grill with a slice of gruyère. My risotto is creamy but firm, full of aromatic parsley and coriander, while lemon zest and mascarpone bring zingyness and sweetness. Like the oxtail this has a culinary melody, though the volume on the porcini could be raised a notch. 

"The Mediterranean harmony continues so seamlessly I wonder if the blessed Mr Zilli is still clinging to the stove, refusing to leave. My guest sets about a tranche of turbot, red wine lentils, pancetta and salsa verde. As is so often the way, lunch's main movement lacks a little of the thrill of those opening bars, but is entertaining enough. The turbot is fresh, moist and chunky, cut from the thickest part of the fish, while the sweet crunchiness of lentils is softened by the pancetta's smoky smoothness."

The West House, Kent
Zoe Williams, The Telegraph, 12 March

"I had the wild bass with wild mushrooms, parsley-root purée (perched on top of some beautifully scorched skin, like a pat of green butter, it felt endearingly 1980s) and a lovely little foraged ingredient whose name I forgot to ask; it looked like a teeny-weeny cactus and tasted of… well, it just tasted green, if I'm honest. 

"I finished with 'All the Fun of the Fair', which I don't think I'm being unfair in calling a disaster, though maybe I'm not very fun. A big bowl arrived with candyfloss floating unphotogenically over the top. That was OK. Underneath was a toffee-apple panna cotta, which had the texture of Angel Delight and a taste that was sort of sweet, but was dominated by an inexplicable tartness."

The Gay Hussar, London
Toby Young, The Independent, 14 March

"Walking through its doors today, it quickly becomes clear that its best years are behind it. I visit on a Friday night, with my wife Caroline, and Charlie, a teacher friend, and there are precious few intellectuals in evidence. On the contrary, the table next to ours is occupied by a couple of elderly American tourists and beyond them is a table of drunken office workers, some wearing party hats. The shelves are still stacked with the biographies of left-wing demigods, but their authors are long gone. 

"I start with the restaurant's famous chilled wild-cherry soup, while Caroline opts for the fried mushrooms with tartare sauce and Charlie has the fresh asparagus and bacon salad. They are both reasonably happy – the mushrooms are a little on the greasy side – but my soup is disappointing. It tastes like cherry-flavoured Actimel, the probiotic drinking yoghurt. I've got nothing against Actimel, but at £4.50 a bowl I was expecting something a little more special."

Caravan, London
John Walsh, The Independent, 13 March

"To call a new restaurant 'Caravan' is to risk ambiguity. The word can suggest a camel journey, a romantic quest for Shangri-La, a drifting meander through exotic lands and undulating sand dunes, meeting strange women in transparent shawls and kohl-drenched eyes, their every movement dreamily soundtracked by the sexy wail of oud and zither. Sadly, it can equally suggest a dismal wet weekend in a rusting mobile home on Selsey Bill."

"The menu strives for simplicity too: it's an 'all-day' affair, divided into Snacks, Small Plates and Big Plates, Sides and Puddings, the object being to mix'n'match, to graze, to chillax. Our charming New Zealand maitre d' explained that we shouldn't sweat about courses, just order what takes your fancy, yeah? His attitude seemed a touch libertarian (I wondered what the chef, Miles Kirby, formerly of The Providores in Marylebone, would make of punters ordering main courses after 10pm) but four of us set out with a will."

Bistrot Bruno Loubet, London
Fay Maschler, Evening Standard, 11 March

"Black bream fillet in bouillabaisse with rouille is a bright idea marred by a huge chunk of undercooked fennel shouldering the fish out of the way. Bruno's fondness for North African flavours is evident in confit of lamb shoulder with white beans, preserved lemon and green harissa. Both M and I look askance at the presentation — the meat unmoulded from a bowl into which it had been pressed — but the taste is completely pleasing."

"Desserts of crème fraîche and rhubarb brioche tart and a brittle chocolate confection with molten centre attended by a scoop of caramel and salted butter ice cream are also unassailable."

The Canton Arms, London
Jay Rayner, The Observer, 14 March

"Our starters needed only to play a supporting role, but they did so much more than that. The house terrine, thick and dense, served with still-warm Melba toast and cornichons, was an exemplar of its kind, especially so at £5.40. Even better were softened leeks, under the classic tangy sauce gribiche – a mayonnaise-style sauce, punched with chopped pickles, a julienne of boiled egg and fresh green herbs – that had me sweeping around the plate with the edge of my fork.

"We finished with a startlingly light treacle tart and 'little chocolate pot', the only desserts on offer. Such brevity shows extreme and very welcome self-confidence. The mostly French-Spanish wine list starts at £12.50 a bottle and offers significant choice below £30. It is, like the entire operation, without pretension; they are absolutely not trying to be all things to all people. They are only trying to be themselves. Unlike with many places I review, I will definitely be returning, probably often. Hell, that foie gars toastie just has to be tried."

Zilli Green, London
Matthew Norman, The Guardian, 13 March

"A green and pleasant land this was not, we concluded long before Zilli made an appearance to apologise for the wine and to treat us to a decent Argentine malbec. (Incidentally, the standard fee remains £5,000 in used, non-consequential £50s.) The main courses ranged from the average to the arrestable. Bone-sucking carnivore though I am, I love vegetarian cooking when it's inventive and vibrant. When it's as lazy, pointless and dementedly oversalted as my spaghetti al quattro pomodori – four types of tomato, each as flavoursome as purified water – the mind turns to the whereabouts of the nearest Burger King. 

"This is all right, my friend said of her tagliatelle with porcini and white truffle oil, 'though I can't see how they could screw it up even here.' A tricolore salad was an outrage at £5.50, the avocado seemingly sourced from the same supermarket shelf as the tomato. 'Dairy-free tiramisu' was both a vegan pudding and a subliminal advert for dairy produce, while the pear served with 'dark chocolate crumble indulgence' reminded us, cruelly, of the tomato and avocado."

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