What the critics say: The Pass, Koffmann’s…

23rd August 2010, 10:17am

A round-up of the latest reviews

Roux at Parliament Square, London
Zoe Williams, The Telegraph, 23 August

"I started with the foie gras with rhubarb and a pistachio crust (three courses for £55). The meat I liked; it had that signature wobble that gets people into a frenzy. A bit like Marilyn Monroe, only edible. The rhubarb was great, too, but the pistachio was dry and drying, like cement. It didn't add much, and I wondered whether it took the edge off the excellence. L had the confit salmon with samphire and nasturtium leaves. There was also a little tube of crab meat that screamed, 'High class! I am a very high-class starter!' It was tasty, subtle and enjoyable. The fish had the most beautiful texture: salmon, unmistakably, but hovering between smoked, hot-smoked and poached, in an almost magical way. Imagine sashimi, then imagine it cooked… Sorry, that is the least descriptive description ever. 

"She carried on with the lamb, a roast saddle from the Lune Valley. Looking at it I felt a bit uninspired; the plate was so fussy. I only made her order it because it came with a tongue salad, which I thought might be a little bit grubby, but it was all pristine, and the taste was so unarguable. Yup, that's lamb, that's tongue, that's artichoke, that is what all those things taste of, but where's the drama? I had the veal loin, with sweetbread, spring vegetables and wild garlic. That was a bit more eventful, especially the sweetbread, which seemed, in its ebullient texture, to be bursting with pride. The loin wasn't dry, exactly, but it was a bit of an effort."

The Pass, South Lodge Hotel
Lisa Markwell, The Independent, 22 August

"This Sunday night there are just six other diners in The Pass, which would usually feel awkward, but because the focus is on the food there's a feeling of fellow adventurers – in the moments I'm not studying the chef or my plate, I steal glances at the faces of those putting a morsel in their mouths, looking for an 'Oh, I didn't expect that' expression or a smile of contentment. I see both in equal measure. 

"Next up the poached trout, Jersey Royal mash, artichoke purée and samphire is elegant, if veering towards traditional, which feels odd during a 'Dramatic Dining Experience'; as odd, in fact, as finding snail porridge in a Cornish cream tea."

Flinty Red, Bristol
Tracey MacLeod, The Independent, 21 August

"Almonds were a feature of both our starters; adding welcome crunch to slippery mascarpone-filled ravioli, blowsy with fresh thyme and wet garlic (ask Pete), and to a dish of charcoal-grilled quail, served pink, with chunks of cucumber, grapes and a verjuice reduction. 

"In a gender-bending defiance of dining norms, my main course was a hefty pork chop, while Pete went for a more delicate fish dish. The chop didn't quite have enough char from its time under the grill, but the oozy blast of Mediterranean flavours supplied by a blanket of morcilla (Spanish black pudding), raisins and pine nuts more than compensated. Pete's pan-fried grey mullet was so delicate as to be almost overwhelmed by its accompanying fennel."

Chilli Cool, London
Allan Jenkins, The Observer, 22 August

"So we'd started with 'sliced beef Sichuan style lavishly topped'. I think it was the 'lavishly topped' that swung it for me. That and the fact that the Chinese group at the neighbouring table was happily tucking into theirs. If, like me, you are too easily persuaded that the Chinese restaurant with the most Chinese faces must be the best, then Chilli Cool is for you. But this is no Cantonese Chinatown crowd. This is a younger Bloomsbury clientele, largely drawn, I suspect, from the School of Oriental and African Studies not far from here, though we are still the only people speaking English.

"Our beef swims, or more accurately drowns, in a sea of rusty red oil. 'The meat tastes sweaty, tripey, intestiney,' says my seriously alarmed companion who now wishes he was eating anywhere else. But a trawl around the bottom of the bowl reveals a pile of spring greens and bean sprouts whose slightly bitter crunch transforms the textures from mildly unpleasant to interesting."

Koffmann's, Knightsbridge
Matthew Fort, The Guardian, 21 August

"Koffmann occupies a unique position among chefs in this country. He is the chef of chefs, the chef all other chefs look up to. For many years, his restaurant, La Tante Claire, was a place of gastronomic pilgrimage, London's only restaurant with three Michelin stars. When Koffmann hung up his apron for, he declared, the last time, there was a collective outpouring of grief among serious eaters. Then, last year, he was tempted out of retirement to man a pop-up restaurant in Selfridges for eight weeks and, having got a taste for the demanding disciplines of the professional kitchen again, he has settled once more – this time to the more measured pace of Koffmann's, in that part of the Berkeley hotel the Boxwood Café once occupied.

"Anyone expecting the high aspirations of La Tante Claire, or even the razzle-dazzle of Selfridges, will be disappointed. Koffmann's serves Koffmann's brasserie food. The creamy, mushroomy decor and the professional suavity of the service suggests something somewhere between a brasserie and restaurant, but the sans serif typeface of the menu immediately evokes la nostalgie des brasseries d'antan, the brasseries that have all but disappeared in France, taking with them that grand tradition of sublime charcuterie, garlic-laden snails, foie de veau lyonnaise, lapin à la moutarde and mousse au chocolat."

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