Sunday January 15th was without doubt the coldest day of 2012 at that point. Thinking about it, it probably still is. However, it was a glorious day: the sun beat down with strength but no warmth, the sky was a stunning azure and the air was thick with mist off our breath. It was a great day for photos, walking and sightseeing with the in-laws. And given all the excesses of the weekend prior to this, one last blow-out on the Sunday seemed apt.
L'Atelier de Joel Robuchon is a small link in a very exclusive global chain. Joel Robuchon, chef extraordinaire and holder of too many Michelin Stars to count, has outposts in various notable cities on almost every continent. London's establishment has two stars and has long-cemented itself as an important part of the West End's top end. I've been to the ground floor 'counter concept' room a few times and it's a sight for sore eyes. The kitchen is open in the middle of the restaurant, with many of the customers eating at the bar as the chefs prepare their food. On my past visits here I've always gazed longingly at the a la carte menu and thought 'one day'... January 15th was that day.
We were on the ground floor again (the first floor has more of a classic restaurant feel) and brimming with extravagant greed as we surveyed the card, I was struck by one thing instantly: this place is not cheap. It is actually one of those kinds of place that people turn their noses up at, sighing how trivial and biased the Michelin Guide is and how no food could be worth that much. They have a point, but if the food is as good as its price tag, that's another matter...
An amuse bouche of a royale of foie gras with port reduction and parmesan was as fancy and French as you're likely to get anywhere in London. The slightly sickly onset of the foie gras liquid was unpleasant at first, before quickly becoming a smooth and well-combined mouthful of richness. I found it quite amusing (pardon the pun) in that it was one of those things that you tasted at first with the tentative stubbornness that you had to like it because of what it was, before realising that it wasn't actually bad at all.
We started extravagantly. Pigs' trotters and mushrooms on toast as a sharing plate was summarily ordered and devoured by the four of us (left). It was an interesting dish: warm, soft and comforting without touching some of the levels of pretence one might associate with a place like this. In a way, it was touching the origins and roots of great French country food. It was rich, elegant and simple. Delicious too.
Starters were where things got rather more fancy. Langoustine fritters with Basil pistou ('pesto' to you and me) cost £47 (right). That's almost fifty pounds for four langoustines. Fifty.These deep-fried langoustines were delicious: succulent, moist and imaginatively wrapped with a basil leaf within their light and crispy batter. But it cost £47. As accustomed as I have become to high-end eating, there is enough common sense in me to know that that is silly money.
Elsewhere, some chicken broth with foie gras ravioli and 'zesty whipped cream' was a slight let-down in that the broth contained too much ginger (left). Even so, the ravioli was excellent and the cream mixed well with the broth. It wasn't a let-down overall though, my mother-in-law really enjoyed it. Maintaining the theme of dressed-up simplicity, the wife went for L'Atelier's version of Iberian ham with tomato bread (right). Their adaptation of one of the classic Spanish dishes was actually quite nice. Fresh, superbly greasy ham was laid across the plate and served with some dainty crostini covered in soft tomato. It was light and lent itself beautifully to sharing.
I realised that for all the eating I'd been indulging in over the long weekend, I hadn't yet had any foie gras (aside from the amuse bouche). I went for some with apple (left). Assorted purée, jelly and crisp of the fruit contrasted well with an oblong of seared foie gras which sat rather nicely. At first. In the event it was marginally too rich, but the construction of the dish was fancy enough to be entertaining and the taste was strong enough to be worth it.So far I was a little underwhelmed. The dishes all looked amazing and were as nouvelle as you'd expect, but they were all rather expensive and unfortunately a case of style over substance for the most part. And the langoustines cost £47.
Main courses were happily better. My father-in-law went for the head chef's signature dish, something I was able to recommend having seen it on Masterchef: The Professionals a month or so earlier. At the time of watching, I was unconvinced by the dish: veal sweetbread with pine nuts, almonds and savoy cabbage. It didn't seem particularly substantial and it looked a little drab. The plus point of this dish for me was that Ash Mair - the eventual winner - prepared it and excelled. For that alone I was curious to have a look at it first hand (right).The dish was, in the event, a bit of a treat. The sweetbread was very creamy and supple which gave a great variation to the dish when combined with the pine nuts and almonds. The whole thing was brought together by the thick savoy cabbage leaf at the base, with the rich jus luxuriously coating each mouthful. This was a sudden upswing.
Elsewhere, a slab of uncooked rib-eye steak was brought to the table and we selected a juicy cut which was duly brought back, cooked to a turn (left). It was, however, a little smoky and salted for my tastes. It just didn't taste as fine as it looked, or indeed as it should have tasted. Happily, they made up for this with some turned new potatoes on the side and some of the famous Robuchon mashed potato for the table. The latter is just so wonderfully creamy and buttery, it deserves the recognition it has received as arguably Robuchon's greatest culinary achievement.
The wife and I both went for truffle dishes for the main course. Hers was a combination of perfectly-fried scallops with fregola sarda, the Italian equivalent of cous-cous (right). The tiny specks of toasted pasta were beautifully brought together with a thick and creamy sauce and some white foam, with the Perigord black truffle residing regally over the top.The truffle on my main course was combined with pommes purée on the side of some foie gras-stuffed quail. The dish was, in essence, perfect for me, all its main ingredients among my favourites. The result was similar to that of the starters, sadly. All wordiness and pretence leaving a rather small plate of half-finished morsels. This is not the kind of old-fashioned Michelin-starred nonsense I want on my plate when I ask for quail and mashed potato.
We were fairly stuffed at this point and dessert wasn't necessary but our curiosity and greed got the better of us. Our waiter offered us the chance to have our puddings in the top floor salon, which we thought might be nice. Predictably, the restaurant had whacked the heating right up to compensate for the freezing temperature outside, which was making us all a little sleepy. When we were shown upstairs to a small bar room with some comfortable seating, the four of us promptly drifted off until our desserts arrived.
We were awoken by some fairly impressive looking puddings. The wife and her father had gone for Le Mango-Mango, a mixture of mango coulis & mousse with some sorbet and biscuit (left). This was a light, fruity explosion of sweet intensity. Plus a strange sign which read "MANGO" in case we'd forgotten. It was something you'd eat one spoonful of and then continually shovel it down until nothing remained.
That was that. We wrapped up and braved the cold again before bidding adieu to the in-laws and reflected on a wonderful few days. The meal at L'Atelier was not one of them, sadly. There had been some impressive high points, the desserts most so, but the rest left a slightly disappointing reflection on just how much it costs to eat at this place. The atmosphere is modern, dark and special but the overall experience was lacking in a few key areas: sadly the quality of the food was one. Not that it was bad, just not that good. Not so good you'd want to spend nearly £50 on four langoustines.
L'Atelier de Joel Robuchon
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