Telephone: 020-7592 1221
Address: Carlos Place, London W1
Rating: 18/20
When it was announced that the flagship of bufferish hotels, the Connaught, was to draw a curtain on the distinguished career of chef Michel Bourdain and his kind of French haute cuisine, steeped in tradition and truffles, there was a wailing and a gnashing of teeth from the neolithic Eggs, Bean and Crumpets of this world. When it was revealed that the kitchen was to become another outpost of the empire of Gordon Ramsay, those lamentations turned to imprecations. And so it came to pass that Angela Hartnett at the Connaught opened to mixed reviews from restaurant first-nighters. I was not among them.
It wasn't until last week that I went with Tucker Thompson to see how the new set-up was getting on. I well remember the last meal I had under the ancien régime, replete with dishes from Escoffier and a bill so substantial that my employer at the time had trouble believing that food could cost so much.
The bill at the new-look Connaught was again substantial - £202.50 - but that was my fault, because the atmosphere of a grand restaurant (and it is still a very grand restaurant) always brings on a rush of blood where wine is concerned. I make the point because one virtue of Ramsay's restaurants is the value for money that his menus deliver. At his own place, say, a three-course lunch is £35 and dinner £65. At the Connaught, lunch is £25 and dinner £45. That is a lot, but compared with the sums charged by three-star restaurants in France or even lesser restaurants in Britain, it is not a lot for what is, in terms of smoothness, high-quality fixtures and fittings and top-table grub, a senior experience.
And, unquestionably, Tucker and I had a senior experience. The service was good, smooth but not unctuous, efficient but not overwhelming - very much old Connaught, in fact, although I doubt the old Connaught would have had the nous to employ the delightful sommelier who seemed but a slip of a lass, yet had the knowledge of several encyclopedias. Anyway, down to the food. There was some palaver about the Connaught going all Italian. That turned out to be complete bosh. There are some Italianate dishes - risotto of prawns and leeks; agnolotti with pheasant and celery purée and rosemary jus; rabbit leg with wild mushrooms and polenta - but essentially the cooking is modern French haute cuisine with some Italian and other knobs on. What is more, it is definitely less Gordon Ramsay and more Angela Hartnett.
Ballotine of West Country ham hock, for example, had a sweet elegance and was matched with a fresh, earthy, delicate apple and chickpea salad. It was a lovely and, in today's climate, brave dish to put on in a restaurant of this kind. This was real creative cooking, breathing life into ingredients with which other chefs do not have the wit to dally. More Italian and main-stream was spaghetti with roast lobster, parsley and garlic: a generous plate of pasta with loads of beautifully cooked chunks of crustacean in a sauce of impeccable balance, a distillation of lobster kept fresh by the parsley and garlic. "Fabfabfab," as Tucker so eloquently put it.
Oven-roasted lamb with aubergine Parmigiana and rosemary jus was just about as classical French as you could wish for, even down to the use of French when the vege-table was served in a classic Italian form. To hell with form and fancy. The lamb was tender and tasty right up to the end, the partnership with the aubergine a powerful, gloppy delight, the rosemary jus fully infused with that tricky herb. "Fabfabfab," as Tucker put it again. On the other hand, slices of monkfish with wilted Treviso chicory in a sauce sharpened by sherry vinegar was a happy marriage of Italian taste (mildly bitter chicory and meaty monkfish, creamy risotto) with French technique (roasting the fish and saucing) and British dish-building (meat, sauce and veg all together). There were puddings, too: a textbook, tooth-wrenching tarte Tatin (for two) for Tucker and a perfect grilled pear with aged gorgonzola for me.
While the old buffer in me is saddened at the passing of mousse de homard Neptune, zephyrs de sole tout Paris and the old haut monde of the Connaught, the fierce, cutting-edge, brave-new-world of me embraces the new of Angela Hartnett with a broad grin and a keen sense of pleasure.
· Open Lunch, Mon-Fri, 12 noon-3pm (3.30pm Sat and Sun); dinner, Mon-Sat, 5.45-11pm (6-11pm Sun). Menus Lunch, £25 for three courses; dinner, £45 for three courses; Menu Prestige, £55 for seven courses. Wheelchair access and WC.
