Three days following a fun lunch at Heston Blumenthal’s revamped ‘Little Chef’, I was at ‘The Fat Duck’ for the strangest lunch of my life. Linen guides rate it the world’s second best restaurant and despite it being in Berkshire, one guide even describes it as ‘London’s finest’.
This is partly a restaurant review and partly a piece on produce, because isn’t what makes a restaurant truly great the quality of what it puts into its dishes just as much as how it cooks them? Fins is in a very fortunate position because it cooks what it catches and has become an official Gary Rhodes Local Food Hero.
Some things purr on, doing their business, no X-factor genes pumping their spoilt podgy dancing legs. One of these is the modest but wonderful Footstool Restaurant in the brick-vaulted crypt of St Johns church in Smith Square, Westminster.
Noisily chatting in a great many accents, the long queue of hungry customers snaked towards a funk of odours. Amidst the scaly perfume of a fish counter beached in sunshine.They came for this: the cosy, welcoming, tempting aromas of sourdough momentarily torched at 500 degrees…