Telephone: 020-7287 9608
Address: 1a Dean Street, London W1
Occasionally, you come across a restaurant that causes you to question the very nature of human existence. Opium is one such. It would be charitable to assume that whoever designed the tables and chairs at Opium had a different type of human being in mind when they dreamed up this particular configuration. The tables are low and the chairs are lower. Sitting down is like getting into a Formula 1 racing car, only less comfortable, because our table stood on a solid base that prevented me from stretching out my legs. Consequently, I had to spread my thighs and put one leg either side of the seat, tucked backwards, which, at my age and state of flexibility, isn't ideal.
As for the decor, the lighting is what you might call early Neanderthal - that is, pretty gloomy - which may be just as well, as such detailing as is shown up suggests that this is an ex-pat Brit from Estramadura's idea of Temple Thai, or rather Vestigial Vietnamese. Oriental-effect friezes had an uneasy relationship with what looked like the workings of a boiler room. These cannot have been part of an air-conditioning system, because there didn't seem to be one. The air was thick and fetid. Mind you, it would have taken an air-con system of Canary Wharf proportions to cope with the heady mixture of perfumes wafting from the clientele.
Now, I can't be sure of this, but I got the impression from the menu that the food has a Vietnamese slant to it. If that is the case, the Vietnamese should sue for defamation of their culture. It could be that we chose wrong. It could be that we were unlucky. But I think not. It was certainly the wrong time to go veggie, in an attempt to redeem my failure to mark Vegetarian Week. We had Opium Cay Di, described as "a combination of appetiser" for two. Then came mi ga pho ha (according to the menu's subscript, this was free-range, corn-fed chicken with ginger/chicken broth, egg noodles and bok choi) for Bugles; and, for me, nem rau, or Vietnamese vegetable parcels, and Asian green salad with mango chutney dressing.
In view of the effect, the first course could be described as a containing an inherent contradiction. The word "appetiser" suggests something pleasurable. But even adding "u" and "n" as a prefix would have been less than accurate. To be fair, the satay were edible, so Bugles told me. To be fair, the spring rolls were greasy, explosive and tasteless. To be fair, the fourth element in this combination, which looked like a sea mine in miniature, was the most disgusting thing I've put in my mouth since I ate earthworms at school. The contents appeared to have been scraped off the inside of an S-bend. On second thoughts, I preferred the worms.
The main courses were something of a relief after this, though to say they were edible would be an unpardonable fib. I feared the worst when my knife shot off the armour-plated pastry encasing the vegetables. Curious as to how I should go about eating this creation, I tilted it on its side, and discovered a solution as the base collapsed, releasing a sludge of soggy veg. Bugles, meanwhile, was wrestling with the free-range, corn-fed chuck in broth. It might be interesting to know what range that particular chicken had been free on, and on what kind of corn it had been fed. On the other hand, it might not. It was a novel experience to feel something in the mouth (I tried a small bit to confirm Bugles' diagnosis) with the texture of reconstituted cork. Of the promised ginger in the broth there was no trace. Of seemingly rancid onions, however, there were so many that not even the boot-polish stock could disguise them.
At this point, I confess that my courage failed me. I could not face a pudding. I paid the bill and we left. It came to £85.30, including a bottle of just-drinkable Argentinian white at £19.50, a glass of champagne at £8, a Tiger beer at an iniquitous £4.30 and a bottle of water at £3.50. There is also a cover charge of £3 and a service charge on top of the £85.30 of 12.5%. And still they left the box on the credit-card slip for a further emolument had I been in the mood. And, do you know, I wasn't.
· Open Mon - Fri, 4pm - 3am. Menus: None. All major credit cards, except Diners Club. No wheelchair access.
