Je sais quoi

There are times that I eat out as a practical measure – perhaps to catch up with a friend after work for longer than a just quick drink, or a plate of something nearby your evening’s destination be it theatre, gathering or film.

Then there are the times I eat out for the eating element – The Boy and I will book a table in ‘good’ restaurant to mark an occasion, and for probably the whole week preceding it I will be perusing the menu and flapping my hands in excitement at the impending feed.

On Friday we were lucky enough to see ‘The Audience’, with lovely lovely Helen Mirren. I go weak at the knees with love for her and her talent as an actress, so The Boy got outrageously large amounts of brownie points for finding those tickets. As a thank you, I said I would get the dinner beforehand. But, that left me in a no-man’s land between the two scenarios above – we needed to eat something as a practical measure (remember, I have an appetite on me nearly all the time, so the idea of not eating one evening is just silly), but as a thank you for the theatre tickets, I wanted to eat something for the eating of it.

Hmmm.

Practicality reigned initially, in that I knew it would have to be somewhere close to the theatre. Soho. Doesn’t exactly narrow the options down, does it?

But, in one of those perfect-alignments-of-the-heavenly-bodies moment, I happened to start looking at the Arbutus restaurant group, comprising Arbutus, Wild Honey and Les Deux Salons. Set up by Anthony Demetre and Will Smith (not the Wild West Will. A different Will), Arbutus was the first restaurant they opened back in 2006, in Soho. The year after saw Wild Honey open in Mayfair, and a Michelin star awarded to Arbutus, and in 2010, Les Deux Salons opened in Covent Garden.

I was surprised at my own reaction to the menus. There is very clearly a French theme running through them all. And me and French food don’t get on, for two main reasons: butter and cream. Bleh. I can’t do either of them, especially not in the quantity that the French use them. Give me olive oil and sauce-less dishes any day. Thus my affinity with Italian food. However, their menus got my attention and Arbutus and Wild Honey were both promptly added to The List Of Restaurants I Want To Eat At. Les Deux Salons is just that bit too typically French.

A table was booked at Arbutus for 6pm, the a la carte menu (I don’t believe a kitchen is seen at its best through the eyes of a pre-theatre menu). A word, however, must be said about the pre-theatre menu. It is £18.95 for two courses or £20.95 for three, running until 6.30pm Monday to Saturday.  They also offer a plat du jour for £10 including a (250ml) carafe of wine. The dishes offered do not look like the impoverished relatives of the finer forays into gastronomy found on the full menu. They feature on the a la carte too. I’m not sure that many Michelin starred restaurants in London offer those kinds of deals. Even the a la carte menu is reasonably priced. Already I felt myself warming to this group.

The interior of the restaurant is elegant without being intimidating, airy without being impersonal and alive without being hectic. We were showed to our table, and, after a Week (note the capital) I needed some wine. I’m not sure if he was a dedicated sommelier, but a gentleman came to take our drinks order soon after we’d sat down, and when asked a few questions about the wines, was able to direct us to something we might like. If we didn’t like it he would take it away and we could choose something else. Wines are listed as 750ml, or as 250ml carafes, and, guess what? The 250ml price is nearly exactly a third of the 750ml price.

The Eyebrow smiled.

Next came choosing the food. Mediterranean fish soup immediately grabbed me, followed by roasted cod fillet, baby squid and squid ink, with sea purslane. The Boy was toying between a steak tartare and Dorset crab for starters, with a main of lamb, carrot and cumin puree, Madeira-braised celery and pine nuts.

Our waiter came and I asked if the soup was cream based. Woe upon woe, it was. Immediately he asked if I was lactose intolerant. I explained that I luckily wasn’t, but it was more that I didn’t enjoy creamy dishes. He smiled, said he was lactose intolerant, and then proceeded to take me through which dish didn’t have a creamy sauce and which dish he could ask Chef to omit the creamy element. He also said, when taking my mains order, that he would ask Chef not to cook the fish in butter. I hadn’t even thought to ask that. I had never thought to ask that.

Were it more polite, I would have sat with my mouth agape.

I took his advice and went for the Dorset crab with avocado, peas, peanuts and loquats, followed by the cod. Given I was having the crab, the boy went for the steak tartare and then the lamb. That I don’t like avocado (one of the many reasons I drive me mad. I try so hard and every time it just makes me body-squirm and pull a face that would make the International Gurners’ Association proud) or peanuts didn’t matter. I hate making fusses, and having worked in a kitchen know how irritating it can be having an order come through holding this and that and the next thing. I resolved to strategically place said offending items to one side of the plate.

The starters arrived and we tucked in. The Boy’s tartare was a tart yet mellow mix of Tabasco, soft, delicate flesh and Worcestershire sauce. My crab was sweet and fruity, the loquats firm and tangy, the peas were freshly podded and raw, the avocado was, drum roll please, enjoyable. Yes. Thin slices of firm avocado. None of the usual slippery, paste-like slime that has me wriggling in dismay. The Eyebrow smiled again.

The mains were as triumphant as the starters. The Boy’s lamb was a long fillet, encased in a thin layer of skin so crispy it looked like pancetta. The meat was soft and rich, obviously having benefitted from the layer of fat seeping in as it cooked. The accompaniments were delicious too, the Madeira-braised celery being a particular favourite, and a small ramekin of Dauphinoise potatoes had him grinning from ear to ear.

My fish was impeccably cooked – the cod was light golden on the outside, yet the flesh inside was as tender as sashimi. The baby squid were delicious, lightly floured and pan-fried, still soft and wonderfully salty. My one suggestion would have been a bit more green. The purslane was literally a few tiny leaves on top of the cod. I can’t help but think, even if only visually, a serving of samphire, peas or braised little gem would have helped.

It was only after I had completely cleaned the plate that I realised there had been no squid ink. There was a smear of pale yellow that, I have to admit, didn’t have an enormous taste, but definitely no black. When our lovely lovely waiter came back, I asked politely where the ink had been. He blinked. It was the black on the plate. He hadn’t brought the mains plates to our table, so hadn’t spotted there was no black. I said there was yellow but no black. He smiled. Oh that must be because Chef uses butter or cream in the squid ink sauce.

I don’t know what I appreciated more. The relaxed yet enjoyable atmosphere of the restaurant; the fact that the waiter knew so much about each dish and had no qualms telling us what he personally would recommend; that the wine is the same price whether you get a bottle or carafe; that the Chef listened to what the waiter asked and followed it through in all aspects of the meal; or how beautifully they cooked everything.

I’d like all of the above please. Arbutus deserves all the praise it gets. There is no pomp and no ceremony. They provide ‘fine-dining’ in an unassuming environment, at reasonable prices, with personable, thinking waiters and chefs, and the emphasis lying firmly on the food. That meal has lifted my spirits and has given me hope that restaurants aren’t only out to make a profit. It was a rare occasion where the practical need to eat met with the emotional need to eat good food. Arbutus is the genus name of a group of evergreen shrubs and trees. I knew I liked trees for a reason.

It is only after writing this that I happened upon a Jay Raynor review of another, nearby restaurant in which he reveals that when asked for a “reasonably priced quality place” he recommends Arbutus. Amen to that.