1 Lombard Street

1 Lombard Street
London
EC3V 9AA



Having shed its Michelin Star in 2009, 1 Lombard Street seems to be rallying to regain its favour with diners. Located in the Square Mile, where dining without an expense account is unthinkable, the restaurant is currently offering a '5 course' menu for £19.50 in its brasserie to win over new custom. Really the menu is 3.5 courses, but I jump ahead of myself.



Bread is served promptly with butter. A selection of wholemeal and white bread with caraway seeds. Chewy and moist, it's good, but not great. Certainly not Michelin great.



The a la carte menu offers a plethora of dishes, vegetarian and omnivorous alike.



Meals are described in fanciful terms, but the protein/starch/greens combinatorics underpin an easily recognisable modern-euro menu.





The chef's dishes of the day sound delicious, but from the lengthy selection it seems they don't actually rotate daily. Your reporter could be wrong on this point.



Dinky small portions of flaky sea salt and coarsely crushed pepper are set out on the table. I personally believe that if these are present, they should be served with salt-spoons. Asking diners to grab salt and pepper with their fingers is just asking for an outbreak of something nasty.



First up: potato and young garlic leaf soup with toasted pumpkin seed oil.



The soup is velvety and smooth - the perfect texture. Without a spoon to use, it clung lovingly to the sides of the espresso cup. The flavour was mild with distinctive but mellow hints of garlic, reminiscent of sweet garlic scapes. The pumpkin seed oil assaults the nose and the palate in a firm, but gentle manner - akin to being marched through the complex flavours without being allowed to stop and savour each element. Less fancifully, it tasted like toasted sesame oil, but with pumpkin instead of sesame.



An interlude to stare at the decor before the next course: built in a former bank, the brasserie is smartly decorated with friendly lighting and comfortable seating. The tables are not crushed into every space, and there is an opulent 360 degree bar in the centre of the room beneath the light well for those with serious expense accounts.



Asian seared prime salmon with blah blah blah. As we'd only glanced briefly at the verbose menu, we could only guess at the accompliments, which made for very interesting conversation. The salmon was grilled and topped with a deep fried leaf of coriander. Served with three sauces that we identified as possibly reduced teriyaki, pickled daikon and salsa verde (from left to right), and a salad of cerviche topped with baby leaf.

The cerviche caused the most confusion, as it had the texture of fine fish, but not really the bite: each tiny orb parted on the tooth without any noticeable sign of grain. A thought it might have been cerviche or tartar of scallop, but lacked the seafood taste. Of course, it was aubergine, which we hadn't figured out till much later.



The sauces were a little superfluous, especially the first and third. The brown, possibly terikyaki sauce was reduced to a gloop and by the time it was served, had congealed into thin strands of gelatin on the plate. It certainly wouldn't spread or dip, so was best tasted by being scraped up with a fork. The minced daikon added, well, asian-ness, but not flavour to the fish. The salsa verde was fine, but this time a little too runny to serve with the fish.



The salmon itself was fantastic - one of the best cooked pieces I had ever eaten. Barring the Fat Duck version of salmon (which I loved except for the licorice gel), this was definitely the best presentation of what is a fantastic but easily overcooked, overused and 'boring' fish.



The meat was juicy and pink, without being raw. Cooked all through yet retaining its flavour and juices really made this dish shine.



Slow cooked caramelised lamb with cassoulet of white beans, parsley mash, truffle oil. Well, it pretty much is what it says on the tin.



A thought hers wonderfully cooked; I thought mine a little tough for a slow cooked belly of lamb. Execution is pretty much excellent, with alternating layers of lean and fat tied into a roulade, the flavours were clean and savoury without an overwhelming smell or taste of lamb, which can dominate cuts with more fat. The white beans were stewed to perfection, with a tiny amount of tooth, but mainly melting starch. The mash, often an easily overlooked component, was buttery and smooth. One shudders to think of the quantity of cream and butter it might contain.



A palate cleansing granita. Superfluous, and not terribly well made. Possibly rose water, possibly pomegranate, the flakes of ice were sometimes too large, and slightly watery and unpleasant on the tongue.



By now the light began to fade (as you can see), and dessert and cheese were ordered.



A was delighted by her mulled bilberry with blackberry meringue, with vanilla ice cream.



The meringue was competent, but the compote of bilberry and blackberries were bright, sweet and flavoursome, and the vanilla ice cream rich and bursting of real vanilla.





My cheese platter was competently chosen, with some rich and full bodied cheeses. Somewhat let down by presentation, we were willing to overlook the rather aged and worn plate due to the quality of the cheese itself.



The damage: two very reasonably priced and excellent dinners, a bottle of wine and a bottle of water, with service came to just a tad over £76. The wine list is extensive, but heavy on the wallet. As an aside, they are a member of the Gourmet Society.

The service is highly competent but with moments of major flaw. A's soup was served in a cup heavily crusted with somebody else's dinner; apologies were profuse and a replacement was prompt. At times the staff looked confused - we were led to our table via a tour of the restaurant, after the maitre'd seemed unsure where to seat us. Our initial reservation had been lost, and it was only due to us calling to change the booking that this was discovered. Our food busser arrived at the table with an enormous tray, but nobody to help serve; it took several minutes of desperate looks from him before a waiter came to relieve him of his burdens. Etc, etc, this was not fine dining, but it could be once they sort out the minor issues.

Yauatcha

After a Saturday night out in London, and staying with an old childhood friend, we were all craving yum cha as a cure to our over-exertion the night before. As the friend is returning to Australia soon, a treat at Yauatcha seemed like a great idea.

Having read rave reviews, and suitably impressed by the Michelin star, we certainly had high expectations for the meal ahead. Ringing in a booking was no problem, despite giving them only an hour's notice of our imminent arrival. The phone service was automated with several different options, landing you finally on an operator who confirms the booking.

To my consternation, and ominously rumbling stomach, the ladies dilly dallied as only ladies can. We finally presented ourselves at Yauatcha at 3pm, two hours later than our booking. Having called ahead, we were told that this wouldn't be a problem, and that there would be a table for us. Curious. I was under the impression that Yauatcha tables were constantly overbooked, and that the 90 minute time limit was to increase turnover and prevent the hungry hordes from breaking down the gates and stringing up the maître d'.

A slick and elegantly dressed maître d', looking relaxed rather than beleaguered, showed us downstairs to the much lauded dining room. The place was decidedly empty, with a few families dotted around, and various couples and quads seated at the unsually decorated sofa/diner style tables. The decor is... definitely not like any other Chinese restaurant. Perhaps it is the late hour for yum cha, but I'd expected the place to be far more vibrant. The small number of people certainly outdid themselves in volumn. Even in the half-empty restaurant we had to speak at the tops of our voices to be heard.

Now, this might be quite racist. In fact, it is quite racist; I don't care. I have an innate mistrust of non-asian waiting staff in asian restaurants. That's not to say that a non-asian cannot perform his or her duty; in fact, they are probably more polite, accurate and pleasant than their asian counterparts tend to be. But can I trust them to recommend a house special dim sum that the average person from Hong Kong would love? Can they be trusted to know the difference between really good tripe-in-bbq-sauce and phenomenal tripe-in-bbq-sauce? If I pronounce the Chinese words in Chinese, will s/he understand? or will I have to put on a mock-British music-hall Chinese accent just to place my order? In any case, many if not most of the waiting staff were European, but they seemed well trained to take orders from the not-terribly-vast menu.

Beginning with a gorgeous and warming cup of Tsui Yu, we preused the elegantly designed menus. Then, the problems began.

Firstly, a nearby table of mother and children were creating quite a mess. A dropped mound of some sort of noodle dish rested tranquilly on the floor beside their table, in full view of the surrounding diners and, presumably, the floor staff, with nary a waiter to disturb it. Seeing food artistically decorating the floor wasn't wetting my appetite.

The second problem was waving down somebody to take our order. While bad service is part of an authentic yum cha experience, I hadn't counted on a Michelin starred restaurant to require me to take on the persona of an air traffic controller. Finally, launching myself at a passing waiter with a rugby tackle, we were assured that somebody would be with us shortly.

The food was, well, excellent. Everything tasted very fresh, which, and it is sad to say, can be quite uncommon even for busy and recommended Chinese restaurants. Churning out hundreds of orders of sui mai can lead to rather jaded chefs paying no close attention to their wares. This certainly wasn't the case with what we ordered, and the yum cha staples of ha gau (prawn dumplings) and sui mai (pork dumplings) were both piping hot, plump, juicy, and oh-so-tasty. The sticky rice in lotus leaf was fine, with the correct ingredients cooked highly competently, but the serving size was quite small, and rather than a plump package was a little on the thin side. Shanghai xiao long bao (soup dumplings) were very good, but Michelin level? no more so than Imperial China, or a slew of other restaurants, we thought. A train of other dishes followed, all very well done with fresh ingredients: the prawn cheung fen (steamed velvety starch sheets rolled with prawns in a light sweet-soy sauce) being particularly good because of the freshness of the prawns; chicken taro croquettes being light and puffy, disappearing on the tongue and leaving no more than a creamy tasty memory, and so on. A highlight was the feng zhao (chicken feet stewed in a sweet-bbq sauce), which was gelatinous as it should be but not over cooked, very flavoursome and piping hot.

Veering slightly off the beaten path, we also tried the shiitake and duck roll: interesting, but not great, it lacked a depth of flavour that was expected of shiitaki and duck, and was chewier than I associate with dim sum dishes.

The crowning dish was the salt and pepper quail. The magnificence of the quail was almost not-to-be, as the racist worries from earlier reared their ugly heads. After our efficient but cold Polish waiter took our orders, he paid us nary a glance, relying on other staff (do they have dedicated servers?) to bring our orders. This shouldn't present a problem, but the servers did not announce the dishes and this left us to identify some of the more exotic plates for ourselves, and also to guess what has yet to come. Was that the bean curd with enoki and cloud ears? or was it the shiitaki and duck? Which dumpling is this? Finally after counting our orders and coming up one short, we arrived at the rather anticipated salt and pepper quail, which we were sure had yet to grace our table. Much waving at passing penguins finally resulted in one of our servers checking up on our table.

"Salt and pepper squid?", he asks, "I'll find out for you". "Oh, no, you didn't order the squid? let me find out." Proudly returning with a plate of cephalopod held aloft, he presented the dish with a flourish. "Not what you ordered? that's ok, I brought it for you, I will add it to the bill". With only slight wailing and gnashing of teeth, the squid was sent back. Our erstwhile Polish waiter was summoned by the server, and a frantic but hushed discussion ensued in the corner of the restaurant. The squid finally disappears into the kitchen, but only briefly. 5 minutes later it reappears making its way determinedly towards our table, this time intercepted midstride by our Polish waiter and again abruptly turned 180 degrees. By now we were becoming bored, the table having been devoid of food for some time and it looked like we were being told it is time to leave. No quail, but the confused server who first tried to order squid for us helpfully asks if he can clear the table. Tensions are high, and we resist the temptation to pin his hand to the table with chopsticks.

Finally, the quail is delivered, and it was well worth the wait. Quite possibly the most interesting dish (oh we love dim sum classics, but this was innovative and exciting), the four boneless birds were quick-fried in a light tempura-like batter until a very crisp coating has been achieved, but with deliciously juicy flesh; the quail were then doused in a slightly sweet-sour and peppery sauce. Finger licking good. If any fault, and I'm not saying that there was, it did flatline my palate, despite attempted rescue with tea. Luckily, being the last dish to arrive this presented no culinary problems, but if the kitchen/floor had been more attentive in the first place, then I can't imagine eating other dishes after this.

Getting the bill proved to be another rendition of 'bringing in an Airbus to land', and the damage was around £65 for three, for 8-9 dishes and tea.

Good food, modern decor, poor service and just a bit too pricey to be either regular, or to highly recommend. It's well worth the experience, but don't expect a mindblowing experience.