The Garden Cafe, Regent's Park, London NW1 (020 7935 5729; no bookings). Meal for two, including wine and service, £60
The newly restored Garden Cafe in London's Regent's Park is not simply a restaurant. It's a public service. There will, of course, be people reading this - those who regard the spending of money in restaurants in the same way the Jesuits look upon the nocturnal habits of adolescent boys, which is to say as a filthy habit - who will be appalled by the notion.
A restaurant as public service? Like the health service? It's all that foie gras turning your over-indulged brains to mush, that's what it is. Still, I don't review restaurants for them. I review them for you and, as I say, there is something hugely public-spirited about the makeover that the Caper Green Holdings Group has given to the old restaurant space by the Rose Garden in Regent's Park. In Britain we do so love to mythologise the relationship between our summertime and our parks. We like to imagine ourselves strolling between carefully tended beds of bulbous roses, over smooth-mown lawns towards a weathered bench with a fine view of the rhododendrons.
In reality, we tend to find ourselves darting between rainstorms towards whatever crappy catering outfit the park authorities have deigned to bestow on us, so we can gum our way through soggy sandwiches and wallow in the eternal disappointment that our nationhood has bestowed upon us. The elegant Garden Cafe, with its 31 coppered, hexagonal roof turrets, was first opened as the Little Chef in 1964. Nearly 40 years later it allows us to dart through the rainstorms to somewhere really nice and to feel good about ourselves, and if that isn't a public service I don't know what is.
The makeover of this space reinforces the notion that the making of a public garden is an act of great civilisation. As is, to my mind, a good starter of potted shrimps in soft melting butter spiked with nutmeg. Courtesy of the whirligig of fashion, the decor here - a lot of man-made materials, an airy shine about everything - is back in vogue. The menu, overseen by the estimable Henry Harris of London's Racine, is of the sort that will never have to worry about whether it is in style or not. It's virtues are pretty much eternal. So there are those comforting shrimps to start, or plates of smoked salmon with brown bread or just some asparagus with a dribble of olive oil and balsamic vinegar (and while the latter were too fridge-cold there was no questioning the quality.)
In the main courses, which top out at around a tenner, a simple but sensitively prepared grilled chicken breast came with sweet roasted tomatoes and great armfuls of crisp salad. That fabulous old stager, chicken Kiev, leaked its garlicky butter into the accompanying chips. There is also kedgeree, steak, and cold poached salmon with mayonnaise, which is to our summer what Henman losing at Wimbledon is to, well, our summer.
We finished with a pavlova of pineapple and passion fruit, boasting meringue which had the requisite chewiness, and a deep, dark chocolate mousse. The £60 price at the top includes all of this and a bottle of wine from the very short selection at £13.50 a pop, but most people will probably use the Garden Cafe for a single course and come out with change from £15 a head. When I was there it was closing around 8pm, but now it is open until late. To my mind there will be nowhere more lovely to spend a warm summer's evening in London. If we ever get one.
