The Ledbury 9.25/10
Telephone 020-7792 9090.
Address 127 Ledbury Road, London W11.
Open All week; lunch, noon-2.30pm (Sun 2.45pm); dinner, 6.30-10.30pm (Sun 10pm).
You probably haven't noticed from the muted media coverage, but the economy seems to be going down. Whether the landing will be relatively soft or involve one of those corkscrew spins that feature the co-pilot screaming, "Oh my God, oh my God..." in the flight deck transcript isn't for a fiscal quarter-wit like me to predict. Until journalism's seer of seers, Lord Rees-Mogg, announces that an economic golden age is imminent, one cannot assume that we're all doomed. Even so, the Private Frasier impersonations become louder and more convincing by the day.
This is not tremendous news for anyone, other, perhaps, than pawnbrokers, the makers of confectioneries in which people traditionally seek comfort in hard times, and, of course, the Official Receiver. But there are few substrata of the business world for whom such an economic downturn is scarier than for the owners of fancy restaurants, because the one thing the newly impoverished jettison in the feckless pursuit of avoiding the bailiffs is the £100-plus per head dining experience.
In whatever time remains before reports of big-name closures become a news page staple, nervous nellies in the catering world may care to study the lunchtime work of that outstanding restaurateur Nigel Platts-Martin. Along with Chez Bruce, La Trompette, the Glasshouse and the Square in his portfolio of Michelin-decorated London gems is the latter's sibling, the Ledbury in Notting Hill, where the set lunch offers a tutorial in the art of serving glorious food at recession-resistant prices. Spending less than a pony on three courses of such quality will be the kind of morale boost many will be after when the sight of Stephanie Flanders wearing a black armband on BBC news bulletins finally loses its allure.
The only vague moan my friend and colleague, Marina Hyde, could dredge up - apart from mild irritation at such faddish Michelin orthodoxies as "assiette", "emulsion" and "foam" - concerned the decor, and that's purely a matter of personal taste. Marina prefers her restaurants on the dramatic side, as I do, and was never a merrier review companion than when perched in a giant amphora, in a sensationally demented east London joint, gazing at the startling tumescence of the satirical Michelangelo's David situated by the loos.
The Ledbury, on the other hand, is studiedly inoffensive in the style so favoured by Michelin joints around the world. "You could be in a high-end restaurant in Tokyo or Las Vegas," Marina said, citing this homogeneity as a recherché expression of globalisation as she took in the beiges and creams, dark wood floorboards and plush leather chairs in a spacious, square room put together a few years back when money was cheap.
Some people relish the five-star business hotel neutrality where others find it soulless and dispiriting, but what few could argue about here is the unobtrusive, flawless service or the quality of the food produced by Brett Graham, a young Australian with absolute mastery of modern Anglo-French technique.
Lacking my sense of fiscal responsibility, Marina went à la carte, and after bacon and onion brioches of such savour that we were tempted to sate ourselves with six each and do a runner, she kicked off with one of those witty reinventions of a timeless classic that can test the patience. But this one - a cute take on the English breakfast catchily entitled, "Slowly poached pheasant egg with spinach, wild mushroom, bacon foam and pork rillette soldiers" - did not. Exquisitely presented in colour-coded layers in a Martini glass, it was a triumph of aesthetics and flavour. Her main course of roast Middle White pork chop with pea purée, liquorice, Roscoff onion and pomme farcie was also stunning, the meat as melty as the finest veal and presented in slender, pinkish slices (don't try this at home - you need absolute confidence in your butcher to undercook pork).
What sets Platts-Martin apart from the Michelin pack is that his restaurants replicate the intricacy and lavishness of the à la carte stuff in set menus at a fraction of the cost. My starter of mackerel, flame-grilled to a crispy exterior and served with a kind of avocado crème fraîche and a shiso dumpling, had a delectably mild wasabi twang. As for my main course, this yoked a lavish collation of cuts of spring lamb - incredibly flavoursome slices of deep red loin, a chunk of shoulder and some sweetbreads - to a deep-fried artichoke heart and a fluffy potato fondant. It was a dish for which you'd generally expect to pay the price of the entire three-course lunch. And a millefeuille of apple and calvados with caramel ice cream was as decadently majestic as Marina's à la carte choice, opera gâteau with honeycomb, chicory and black pepper ice cream.
Undeniably, there is something unnerving about typing out such luxurious ingredients when the front pages screech of negative equity and the like, and it will be intriguing to see how menus adapt to the forthcoming austerity. Even so, the Ledbury is a superbly run restaurant that should glide through the gathering storm. Come to think of it, any of Platts-Martin's rivals who plan to do the same could do worse than use it as a survivalist template.
The bill
Glass house champagne £11
Three-course set lunch £24.50
Grilled mackerel
Spring lamb
Apple & calvados millefeuille
Pheasant egg £11
Pork chop £23
Opera gâteau £9
2 glasses St Joseph £13
2 filter coffees £6
Subtotal: £97.50
Service @ 12.5% £12.20
Total: £109.70
