The Goring, London SW1 – restaurant review
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Version 0 of 1. I’m furious. In an almost empty restaurant, I’m being kettled into my inevitably worst seat. Why can’t I have one of the lovely, large tables for two by the windows? The maître d’ is immovable: “Madam, they are booked in advance.” What, all of them? “All of them, madam. Often by the same people, every day.” My arse they are, I mutter, but there’s nothing for it but to follow him meekly to a tiny two-top at the back. As mollifier, I’m offered a nice copy of the Telegraph. The Goring doesn’t pretend to take much interest in what happens in the outside world. Just off Victoria’s hectic, polluted drag, it gives a sense of out-of-time, Edwardian serenity, perfect for visiting Americans who reckon England is a giant Downton. They go to great lengths to preserve an atmosphere of unchanging luxury and, of course, it’s nice and handy for Buck House. Which is why I’m astonished they have a new chef and new menu. The very idea! Previous incumbent Derek Quelch – now there’s a wonderfully Downton name – has left after 15 years and new chef Shay Cooper is making seismic inroads into the old dowager, turning its antedeluvian menu into something startling and new. Or rather, he isn’t. The food here was always wonderful, with liveried doormen and serving trolleys all contributing to the idea that you were about to dine at a typically groaning Edwardian table. I expect there would be some kind of intensely polite riot if they took eggs Drumkilbo (the Queen Mum’s favourite, dontcha know) off the menu, or failed to trundle up to tables with perfectly rosy beef Wellington. There are still dishes of the day, from fish pie to Lincolnshire suckling pig, and ingredients are true Brit: Romney Marsh lamb, Scottish girolles, day-boat plaice, cobnuts… It couldn’t be more deliciously flag-waving (though very much sans white van). But scratch the surface, and Cooper is making his mark: slow-cooked, sticky pigs’ cheeks come with fermented turnip, crackly curls of puffed pork skin (chicharrónes, basically) and a sharp smack of malt vinegar. This is so clever: modern British cooking without anything to terrify regulars. Give me the opportunity to order those eggs Drumkilbo, and I’m powerless to resist. It’s a seafood cocktail with a silver spoon, packed with lobster and langoustine, shredded eggs, the whole thing topped with sparkling cubes of soft, savoury aspic. Little clumps of caviar and mandolined radishes add pop and crunch. I couldn’t love our main courses more: lobster omelette is another Goring stalwart, an Eton-educated Arnold Bennett – luxurious, gooey, rich as the Goring’s punters, cheese and eggs and cream and seafood in joyous sticky abandon. Cooper has added a side salad laced with more lobster and, in case it’s not opulent enough, duck fat chips. I can imagine eating this until I did the full Creosote. And the world’s largest partridge breast comes en croute: fine, buttery pastry; gamey, vinous glaze. There are wintry little roast root vegetables, served daringly with almost-raw bite: what would Nanny say? There’s a remarkable dessert: bitter chocolate ganache dotted with popcorn, popcorn ice-cream and swirls of barley malt caramel that’s entirely of the 21st century. I’m no chocolate groupie, but this is doing things to my brain’s pleasure receptors that verge on the scandalous. By the end of our meal, I forgive them their steely resolve not to give me one of the best tables. Why should they? When am I ever going to come back? It’s simply common sense to look after your regulars. Late into the afternoon, the restaurant is still full, the place heaving with vast, upholstered grandees and the odd woman with unmoving hair, oblivious to conventional lunchtimes, beaming at decanted clarets. They remind me of that quote that making love to Tory Nicholas Soames – the man who tried to block the minimum wage – was “like having a very large wardrobe with a very small key falling on top of you”. These are the kind of people likely to think that Kate Middleton lowered the tone when she chose the place for her wedding night. My fury has entirely dissipated into a fuzzy sense of wellbeing. The likes of me can only ever be a tourist here, but by jove it’s fun while it lasts. • The Goring, 15 Beeston Place, London SW1, 020-7396 9000. Open all week, lunch noon-2.30pm (closed Sat), dinner 6-9.30. Set lunch £42.50, set dinner £52.50, both plus side dishes, drinks and service. Food 8/10 Atmosphere 7/10 Value for money 7/10 • Follow Marina on Twitter. |