Telephone: 020-8399 2365
Address: 85 Maple Road, Surbiton, Surrey
Rating: 14.5/20
What is it about Surbiton that provokes such a lack of enthusiasm? "Come and dine with me in Surbiton," I said to Friend One.
"Surbiton!" he said. "Do people actually go there?"
"Come and dine with me," I said to Friend Two.
"I'd love to," she said. "Where?"
"Surbiton," I said.
"Surbiton?" she said. "Would you mind awfully... " and then her voice trailed away.
"Come and dine with me," I said to Friend Three.
"Fine," he said. "Where?"
I wasn't going to get caught a third time. "Mystery destination," I said. "Meet me at Waterloo station."
Surbiton didn't seem so bad at first acquaintance. It may be one of the less characterful sections of the south London sprawl, but the station was a handsome example of 1940s curvy public architecture, the streets were pleasantly leafy and the Surbiton Club, which we passed on our way to the French Table, exuded a fine, if somewhat anachronistic, sense of sturdy Victorian values.
The French Table itself was positively frivolous in comparison, decked with flowers outside and pale green inside. It had the intimacy of a neighbourhood restaurant, and at 8pm was already colonised with well-heeled, relaxed 25- to 40-year-olds. Evidently, they eat early and often in Surbiton because, by the time we left, the place was packed, and some of the tables had been turned twice. And this on a Thursday night in the middle of a recession, mark you.
So what was the secret of the French Table's success? To be honest, it remains something of a mystery to me. The place had an agreeable non-specificity by way of decor. The service was busy and efficient, and the menu looked decently contemporary in a Euro-culinary fashion, enlivened by the odd element of batty originality. Or would it be original battiness? I am still not sure what to make of fried foie gras on warm mozzarella.
One reason I don't know is that Friend Three and I did not have it. The dish had - what shall we say? - insufficient appeal. Instead, Friend Three set off with piquillo pepper stuffed with crab and smoked salmon; followed that with rare tuna with couscous, chickpeas, ratatouille, almonds and harissa; and finished with cheese. The pepper/crab/salmon combination, odd though it seemed at first sight, worked well at the level of simple pleasure - a little bit sweet, a little bit fruity, a little bit smoky, a little bit crabby, wholly squidgy and splodgy and easy to eat.
The tuna was a classic, modern fusion dish - a vast slab of tuna tanned on the outside, grey and fibrous for a couple of centimetres beneath the crust, and cold and purple within that. Then there was the couscous, correctly mixed with chickpeas; and the ratatouille and harissa. Although I don't like cooked/raw tuna - I think it's one of those culinary conventions that we have been persuaded is great, when in point of fact it is disgusting - the whole dish was tasty and perfectly edible in an agglomerated way.
My fried scallops with cauliflower purée and beetroot jus was one of those dishes that read really well, but it depended on class-A scallops, sweet and juicy; cauliflower with a bit of oomph; and beetroot juice with that distinctive earthy sweetness. The beetroot juice was fine. The cauliflower was smooth, but largely taste-free, and the scallops lacked sweetness, if not juiciness. So the dish as a whole sank into oblivion.
The ideas behind rump of lamb with artichoke purée, Jerusalem artichoke fondant and madeira sauce were less challenging, and the result was a very pleasant aggregation of easy-going flavours. The same with my pudding, a kind of banana number with prune and armagnac ice cream.
On mature reflection, I think that this might be the secret of the French Table's success. It is a decent, well-run restaurant, with a dedicated staff. The food looks interesting on the page, judiciously combining a number of voguish ingredients - balsamic vinegar, duck confit, pastilla, marinated salmon, chorizo - and serving them up in a manner that makes them the contemporary equivalents of meat and two veg.
There is nothing wrong with that. Indeed, as far as Surbitonites are concerned, obviously there is a lot that is very right about it. This is food with which they feel comfortable, and which they relish. As would, I suspect, the vast majority of well-heeled, unwinding-at-the-end-of-a-long-hard-day, 25-40-somethings elsewhere in the country. It is comfort food that works on a number of levels, dressing Britain's great 'gastronomic traditions in acceptably fashionable clothing. As Friend Three put it, "The only challenging thing about The French Table is the closeness of the tables." There are worse things in life.
The cost of this culinary makeover was £101.15 for the two of us, of which £45 went on two bottles of wine. That makes the eating part less than £30 a head. And, these days, that looks like pretty good value for money.
· Open Lunch, Wed-Fri & Sun, 12 noon-2.30pm; dinner, Tues-Sat, 7-10.30pm. Menus Lunch, £12.40 for two courses; £15.50 for three courses; Sunday lunch, £16.50 for three courses. Wheelchair access (no WC)
