2013: My Ten Dishes of the Year

It may well be the second week of January 2014, but I'm not quite done with 2013 yet. Continuing my tradition of looking back at the most memorable restaurant dishes I had over the year. I thought I'd give you the run down of the ten best things I ate in a restaurant in 2013. I planned to publish this last month but, you know, stuff happened to conspire otherwise. In fact, looking back at the year it was a pretty thin one for the blog. I had some cracking meals, but never got round to writing all the stuff I wanted to. So, New Year's resolution No. 1 is to try and post a bit more often.

Anyway, in reverse order the ten best things I ate in a restaurant in 2013 are: 

La Grenouillère, La Madeleine-sous-Montreuil – Restaurant Review

To paraphrase Mark Twain, reports of the demise of French haute cuisine are greatly exaggerated. In fact, it would appear that the upper echelons of French cooking are alive and well and capable of producing modern, inventive, and exciting food. Behold exhibit 'A' for the defence: the mesmerising and wilfully eccentric La Grenouillère in La Madelaine-sous-Montreuil.

2012: My Ten Dishes of the Year

Another year draws to a close and yet again I'm left wondering where all the time has gone (probably spent in restaurants judging by this post I'm sure you're thinking). Anyway, I thought I'd continue my tradition of looking back at the most memorable restaurant dishes I had over the year. I've been really lucky enough to have indulged in some epic meals this year, the highlights of which have undoubtedly been experiencing the truly magical Fäviken for the first time, a return to Noma and The Ledbury, and of course Oslo's sublime Maaemo.

So, in reverse order here is a list of the ten best things I ate in a restaurant in 2012:

Mirazur, Menton – Restaurant Review

Perched on a sun-drenched hillside almost straddling the French/Italian border is Mirazur, a jewel of a restaurant with achingly gorgeous views over the azure blue waters of the Mediterranean. It's not often I have a deep, genuine longing to return to a restaurant – there always seems to be somewhere new to try – yet after one incredible lunch at Mirazur, which bordered on perfection, I find myself physically pining for another visit to this remarkable place.

Le Louis XV, Monte-Carlo – Restaurant Review

I was recently in Monaco to indulge in one of my favourite things, namely watching insanely fast cars drive round a track. And when the Formula 1 circus comes to town, there's no better place to watch it than in Monte-Carlo, where the absurd speed and noise of these machines is in stark contrast to the perilously narrow and usually genteel streets of the Principality.

I'd taken an early morning flight from Oslo and was due to meet up with some friends travelling from London on a later flight. So, I landed at Nice airport at noon without a clue as to what I'd do to pass the five hours until the rest of the gang arrived. Of course, with my other passion being food I found myself in the baggage hall hesitantly telephoning the three Michelin-starred Le Louis XV restaurant in Monte-Carlo's Hôtel de Paris to enquire if they possibly, maybe, pretty please had a table for one available for lunch in an hour. The answer, to my amazement, was yes.

Koffmann's, London – Restaurant Review

It's not often you get the chance to eat at the restaurant of a genuine culinary legend, but chef Pierre Koffmann is just that. His first restaurant, La Tante Claire, opened in Chelsea in 1977 and went on to gain three Michelin stars, which it held for 15 years until it moved location to the Berkeley Hotel in Knightsbridge. There the restaurant continued until 2003 when Koffmann retired from cooking (or so he thought). The chefs that have trained under Koffmann read like a who's who of Britain's Michelin hall of fame: Marco Pierre White, Gordon Ramsay, Marcus Wareing, Eric Chavot, and Tom Kitchin. So it was with a huge amount of anticipation that Mrs. Nibbler and I went for dinner at Pierre Koffmann's eponymously titled restaurant.

Trancher, Oslo – Restaurant Review

Trancher is a cosy little restaurant located in Oslo's fashionable Grünerløkka neighbourhood. It is predicated on a simple, but great idea. To paraphrase Henry Ford, at Trancher you can have anything you like as long as it's roast beef. In fact your choice is limited even further as only entrecôte (that's rib-eye for us rosbifs) is served. This is no bad thing at all in my book as entrecôte is perhaps the king of beef – it's a wonderfully marbled cut that has such a pleasing depth of flavour. I was sold and went along to see for myself if Trancher would live up to expectations.

Le Benjamin, Oslo – Restaurant Review

Le Benjamin is one of the newer additions to the burgeoning restaurant scene in Oslo's trendy Grünerløkka neighbourhood. Opened in February 2011 by the people behind the popular Brasserie Blanche in the city's Homansbyen area, Le Benjamin comes with high expectations and strong local competition. Fortunately, it manages to deliver, and if you're looking for a casual meal of decent-enough French classics then look no further.

Hibiscus, London – Restaurant Review

Hibiscus has been on my radar screen for ages, yet every time I considered making a booking I ended up opting for another restaurant. I don't know why this was the case as on paper Hibiscus looks like a solid member of the two-Michelin star restaurant club and seems like as good a place as any when you're looking for a luxurious and special dining experience in London. So to celebrate a good friend's birthday recently I knew exactly where we'd go for dinner.

L'Atelier de Joël Robuchon, London - Review

So where do I begin? To say that Joël Robuchon knows how to run a restaurant is a bit of an understatement – the man holds 24 Michelin stars for crying out loud! He is culinary royalty across three continents. Last spring, I enjoyed a wonderful meal at Robuchon’s two-Michelin starred restaurant in Monaco, and I had craved more of his Asian influenced French cooking ever since. So it was on a chilly January day that I found myself gravitating to part of the Robuchon stellar constellation: L’Atelier de Joël Robuchon in London.

Of Robuchon’s 12-restaurant empire, only four are fully fledged starched white tablecloth affairs (Macau, Las Vegas, Monaco, and Tokyo). The rest are more informal dining spaces, which is not at all to say that the food is of a lower standard. Instead, the more casual Atelier (French for ‘workshop’) concepts are designed to be more laid back and accessible, allowing you to watch as the chefs grill, chop, and tweeze your meal right in front of you.

I’m usually too self-conscious to eat alone at high-end restaurants, but on this day I made a rare exception. So with a lunchtime table for one booked and my copy of The Economist in hand (I wonder if there are any solo diners that don't bring reading material with them), I arrived at this Robuchon outpost in the heart of London’s Covent Garden, which is run by the capable chef, Olivier Limousin. The restaurant has three levels, and I had booked a table in the ground floor L’Atelier. The other two floors contain a bar and a slightly more traditional dining room. Fortunately the layout of the ground floor restaurant lends itself to lone dining perfectly. In line with Robuchon’s fascination for all things Japanese, the restaurant is dominated by an open-plan kitchen surrounded by a sushi bar-style counter in Indian rosewood, which is where I was seated. There are other, free-standing, tables that are also elevated, giving the restaurant a more relaxed feel. The décor, though, is straight out of the 1980’s with bold shades of red and black dominating. The lighting inside was very dim, creating quite a sultry atmosphere, even at 1pm on a Wednesday. All in all, a very pleasant place to while away the afternoon.

The menu here is one of those irritating things that doesn’t list separate starters or mains. Instead there are smaller and larger portions, and you are left to decipher which is which by price alone, which is no easy task – is a £39 egg and caviar dish bigger or smaller than a £36 plate of langoustine? I decided to make things easier and opted for the nine-course menu découverte at £125.

To begin, an amuse bouche of “royale” of foie gras with port wine reduction and Parmesan foam woke up the palate with a bang. This was a great combination of silky smooth foie gras mousse, salty cheese and an intense sweet and sour port wine hit. I had begun my excellent meal at Robuchon in Monaco in an almost identical fashion, except then the port reduction was replaced by a layer of salted caramel, so this was a pleasingly familiar start to the meal.

Another old friend from my Monaco experience (and one of my highlights of 2010) was next, and this was simply titled “Le Caviar”. A caviar tin was placed in front of me and I watched as the waiter lifted the lid to reveal what looked like a tin full of Oscietra caviar. Of course, I already knew the punchline to this piece of culinary humour, and dug my mother of pearl spoon in to reveal a layer of intense lobster jelly and crab in fennel cream below the fish eggs. It was a beautiful mix of flavours, although I felt the execution of this dish was a touch better in Monaco.

Next was a salad of chicory, Fuji apples, and black Perigord truffles. This dish was full of clean and fresh flavours. The sweet acidity of the apples and vinaigrette dressing were well paired with the bitterness of the chicory leaves. The only let down was that there was not much flavour coming through from the truffles – quite a tough thing to achieve I would have thought.

A soup course was next, and what a bowl of soup it was! Butternut squash velouté sounded a tad tame when I first read it on the menu, but how wrong I was. I watched as a chef ladled thick and vibrantly orange soup into a bowl and then lovingly garnished it with small juice-filled segments of pink grapefruit, slivers of orange peel, coriander seeds, toasted pumpkin seeds, ground cardamom, coriander cress, and golden croutons. Wow! The soup had an earthy sweetness to it that was transformed by the freshness of the orange peel and grapefruit. The cardamom and coriander seeds gave a hint of winter spiciness and the toasted pumpkin seeds and croutons added a welcome bit of texture. This was one of the absolute highlights of the meal and every spoonful was slowly savoured.

A slab of seared duck foie gras was next, which arrived perfectly cooked with a good savoury crust and meltingly soft centre. Its richness was offset by a mix of grapefruit, apple and maple syrup, which provided the sweetness and acidity that foie gras needs.

This was followed by a fish course, and in a change to what was billed on the menu I was served a beautiful dish of grilled sea bass and Scottish langoustine tail served with clams and artichoke. This was another stand-out dish; the sea bass was perfectly cooked and the langoustine was impossibly sweet.

The main meat course followed and this was another Robuchon classic. Confit of quail’s leg and foie gras stuffed quail breast had been grilled and slicked with a soy and honey glaze. This was served with a dollop of black truffle mashed potatoes, and a little pile of dill and chervil. I am getting hungry just writing this as this was yet another delightful dish. The quail was cooked to perfection – so juicy and soft. I mean how can you complain when you have foie gras and truffles on the same plate? As if this wasn’t decadent enough, a small cocotte was served on the side containing Robuchon’s infamous and impossibly rich mashed potatoes. Rumoured to be a blend of equal parts of potatoes and butter, I could feel my arteries thicken in anticipation of the first bite. It was sensational.

Desserts, although good, were a little more muted. Yuzu ice cream covered in popping candy-studded white chocolate was a fun little number. The citrus notes of the yuzu making this quite a refreshing dessert.

Finally, a beautiful looking dessert consisting of layers of Manjari chocolate mousse, white chocolate ice cream, and chocolate biscuit crumbs. Sitting atop the serving bowl was a thin circle of chocolate. I'm not a huge fan of chocolate-based desserts in general, but this was fine, if a little ordinary.

Service throughout the meal was friendly and efficient, and the sommelier picked out two wonderful glasses of wine to go with my lunch: a young Austrian Grüner Veltliner went really well with the first courses, while a fruit-packed and spicy Argentinean Enamore was perfectly matched with the quail.

L'Atelier seems to be a somewhat forgotten gem in the London dining scene. Perhaps its informality is off-putting to people about to spend a good wad of cash on a meal. But although the atmosphere is relaxed, don't forget that this place still holds two Michelin stars, one of only eight such restaurants in the capital, and the level of cooking here is monumentally good (Update 26/09/13: In the 2014 edition of the Michelin Guide it was announced that L'Atelier had lost its second star). I'll definitely be back for more as there was so much on the menu I wanted to try. Although maybe next time I'll bring a friend to share the experience with, as a meal at L'Atelier is just too good to keep to myself.

Food:          9 / 10

Service:       8 / 10

Ambiance:   8 / 10

L'Atelier de Joël Robuchon

13-15 West Street

London WC2H 9NE

United Kingdom

Tel: +44 (0)20 7010 8600

2010: My Ten Dishes of the Year

I sit writing this from a bitterly cold Oslo. Sunshine and warmth seem like a long-distant memory. Walking outside is a somewhat surreal experience as shadowy figures dressed in thick duvet-like jackets shuffle along the half-lit icy pavements. But it's not that bleak really. The winter solstice has just passed, and with it we can slowly expect the daylight hours to get longer and our depleted vitamin D supplies to be replenished. Christmas is just around the corner, and of course we have a fresh new year with all its challenges and delights to look forward to.

Now, what good would an end-of-year article be without some sort of look back at the year gone by? Yes folks, it's time for a clichéd top-ten list! Without further ado, I bring you my ten best restaurant dishes of 2010. Drum roll please.

In reverse order, these are:

10. Caviar with Crab and Shellfish Jelly – Joël Robuchon, Monte-Carlo

What a way to start a meal! A little trompe l'oeil that looks like a whole tin of sevruga caviar is, instead, caviar atop layers of shellfish jelly and sweet crab meat. A perfect blend of flavours – rich, luxurious and a blast to eat, making you feel like a billionaire oligarch. Mwah-ha-haa!

9. Yose Tofu – Yashin, London

This was perhaps the finest tofu I have ever tasted. Served still warm, and barely set, it came with freshly grated wasabi and diced tosazu jelly, whose tart acidity was a perfect complement to the clean and fresh flavour of the tofu. Within seconds, we had scraped the bowl clean, and promptly called the waiter over to order another one. Heavenly!

8. Tartaleta de Chocolate con Cajeta – Topolobampo, Chicago

Second best dessert of the year is from newly Michelin-starred chef Rick Bayless. This titan of Mexican cuisine is a favourite of President Obama and I can see why. This tart consisted of luxurious, silky-smooth, dark Mexican chocolate sat atop a thin layer of soft, gooey cajeta (goats' milk caramel). This ensemble was lightly sprinkled with flakes of salt and encased in crumbly pastry. Accompanying this was a scoop of goats' cheese ice cream, toasted marshmallows, and graham cracker 'gravel'. Who knew chocolate and goats' cheese would go so well together!

7. Mascarpone Cream, Sponge Pudding, Almond Foam, White Truffle from Alba – Hélène Darroze, London

The undisputed best dessert of the year was this innocent looking number from Hélène Darroze at the Connaught. The cool, sweetened mascarpone was offset by a warm, eggy, vanilla sponge pudding. The residual warmth of the rich sponge was just enough to bring out the flavour of the abundant Alba truffle shavings, so that those wonderful aromas enveloped everything. The almonds and oh-so-light almond foam added a touch of perfumed nuttiness and a variation in texture. When combined, the flavours were nothing short of breathtaking – think of it as 'trifle of the gods.'

6. O-toro nigiri – Sushi Dai, Tokyo

I thought I knew sushi until I ate sushi in Japan, and then I realised everything I knew about it was wrong. The main culprit was this simple piece of o-toro nigiri served to me at Sushi Dai in Tokyo's Tsukiji Fish Market. Pristine tuna (bought a few hours before) had a beautiful spider's web of rich marbling. Eating it was such a sensual experience; the cool flesh of the tuna juxtaposed by the perfectly al dente and lukewarm rice. I hardly needed to chew, the buttery tuna just melted on my tongue. Epic.

5. White Truffle Risotto – Launceston Place, London

Without doubt, the finest risotto I have ever had – rich and creamy with an oh-so-perfect consistency, full of that intoxicating white truffle aroma – I shall be having warm fuzzy dreams about this dish for a long time to come.

4. Guinea Fowl – Oscarsgate, Oslo

At this tiny Oslo restaurant, Swedish chef Björn Svensson is performing little miracles with food. Meltingly tender guinea fowl was served with apple purée, beetroot, and potato. Scandinavia on a plate.

3. Flame Grilled Mackerel with Cucumber, Celtic Mustard and Shiso – The Ledbury, London

A classic by The Ledbury's Brett Graham. This is the dish most people rave about. Mackerel can be a tricky fish to tame – its oily fishiness is always in danger of overwhelming the taste buds. Here the fish was cooked to perfection; the core of it was soft, almost sashimi like, while the skin magically retained a smokey crispness. Accompanying this was a little parcel of smoked eel wrapped in a translucent film of cucumber jelly. A lightly pickled cucumber and delicate leaves of shiso and coriander cress added the needed acidity. I was lost for words at how good this dish was – one of the real highlights of the meal. Magnificent!

2. Langoustine with Oyster, Parsley and Seawater Emulsion, and Rye Crumbs – Noma, Copenhagen

In July, I ate at Noma, and the "world's best restaurant" lived up to the hype and more. This dish brought the house down for me. The most perfect langoustine, barely cooked, was placed on a warm basalt stone that was dotted with small pearls of oyster, parsley and seawater emulsion. A purple powder of seaweed was sprinkled over the stone. This was a dish you eat with your hands and we were encouraged to "make art" as we dipped the langoustine in the emulsion. I closed my eyes and felt transported to a beach on a hot summer's day. Simply amazing.

And the winner of the Nordic Nibbler best restaurant dish of 2010 award is ... *opens envelope* ....

1. Black Truffle Explosion, Romaine, Parmesan – Alinea, Chicago

Alinea totally and utterly took my breath away. The level that head chef Grant Achatz is cooking at now is just astounding. Alinea is on another planet altogether. The Michelin gods saw fit to deign this restaurant with three stars in their inaugural guide to Chicago. Every dish of the meal I had there was stunning, but the standout dish for me was a one-bite symphony of flavour called 'Black Truffle Explosion.' A wafer thin ravioli was filled with the most intense warm black truffle broth. It was eaten in one bite, releasing a cascade of unworldly truffle flavours.


This exercise was actually a lot harder than I imagined. The highlight of the year for me was undoubtedly my meal at Alinea, and at least half of the list could easily have been dishes from the newly crowned three-Michelin star Chicago restaurant. But there were lots of other incredible highlights, and looking back I feel very lucky to have been able to sample such wonderful food. I'll be honest, part of me can't wait to see the back of 2010, it's been that sort of year, but looking back at some of the happy memories, maybe it hasn't been so bad after all?

So, what have been the standout dishes of the year for you? What is your top-ten food list of 2010?

Finally, here's wishing you all a very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!

Alba Truffle Menu at Hélène Darroze, London – Restaurant Review

Oh, mighty tuber magnatum! Sensual and elusive Alba madonna, where do I begin? For you are one of the most enigmatic and hedonistic tastes around. You spend your life underground, to be unearthed by passing dog and his trifolau master. For centuries you have been fêted and fawned over. Legend has it that that you are formed where lightning hits the ground. You are sold for tens of thousands of dollars, ending up at some of the finest restaurants in the world. I am, of course, talking about the exquisite white truffle.

The finest white truffles grow in Alba, a small town in Piedmont in Italy, and their main season runs from early October to late November. Yes, you can find white truffles in other parts of Italy, as well as in Croatia, but none of these have the extraordinarily perfumed pungency of Alba's finest. These truffles are quite possibly one of the most sought after foods in history, commanding a commensurate price; in November 2010, Chinese businessman Stanley Ho, paid a whopping $330,000 for just two Alba truffles – five times the value of their weight in gold.

I am a (sadly infrequent) worshipper at the altar of the white truffle. There are few things that can't be improved by the liberal addition of gossamer thin slices of white truffle. OK, I exaggerate a touch, but the aroma. Oh, the AROMA! A heady and complex mix of wet earth and musk, with notes of toasted nuts, straw and even honey. No two Alba truffles are quite the same, but all possess that intoxicating, almost erotic perfume, and most of the taste of white truffles comes from this bewitching aroma.

So on a recent trip to London, I found myself at Hélène Darroze at the Connaught Hotel on a mission to try their Alba truffle tasting menu, which they offer for lunch and dinner during the peak of the truffle season. Darroze's pedigree is impeccable. She worked as Alain Ducasse's right hand lady at his legendary three-Michelin starred Louis XV restaurant in Monte Carlo before opening her own eponymous restaurant on Paris's Left Bank in 1999. In 2001 she gained her first star, with a second coming in 2003. She subsequently lost one of her two stars in the 2010 version of the famous guide. The Connaught is her second venture and opened in 2008, gaining a Michelin star just one year later (Update: In the 2011 edition of the Michelin guide it was awarded a second star). Obviously she can't be in two places at once, so the restaurant at the Connaught is overseen by the very capable Raphael François, former head chef of Darroze's Parisian restaurant.

Unfortunately, Mrs. Nibbler does not share my enthusiasm for truffles. So on this occasion she made it clear that if I wanted truffles I was on my own. So it was that I arrived for lunch, reading material in hand, at my table for one in the opulent Connaught dining room, resplendent in dark wood panelled walls, heavy starched white tablecloths, and lushly upholstered chairs. I needn't have worried about dining alone, as I struck up a friendly conversation with two delightful ladies at the neighbouring table after they asked to take a photo of the whole truffle that was being presented to me. It turned out they were food bloggers from Japan (Cinq Etoiles and Flyrobin), so we had fun discussing all things food.

I waved away the à la carte menu and went straight for the seven-course Alba truffle tasting menu. Almost instantly a waiter appeared with a plate, lifting its cloche to reveal a beautiful white truffle specimen sitting on a mound of Arborio rice. This was to be my truffle for the afternoon, and I was pleased to meet its acquaintance. Its miraculous aroma hit me instantly and, yes, I did inhale. Deeply. Sadly it was swiftly whisked away into the kitchen where it remained for the entirety of the lunch; there would be no table-side truffle slicing here. All the dishes would be completed in the kitchen which, while ensuring a visually appealing finished product, does rob you of some of the magic in eating white truffles.

First, I was presented with a couple of amuse bouches. A butternut squash velouté was deliciously creamy, although the mint foam it was topped with didn't go with it all. A bread roll of Piedmont peppers was warm, but very dry, like something you'd expect to be served on an airplane. A somewhat inauspicious start then.

Bread was served next and I chose fig bread, which was dense, chewy and everything the Piedmont pepper roll wasn't. It was served with utterly delicious salted and unsalted Normandy butter. I could have happily eaten only these for lunch.

The first course proper was next and with it came my first taste of the Alba madonna. An egg yolk, topped with Lardo di Colonnata (fragrant cured pork fat from Tuscany), and white truffle slices lay in a bowl. The waiter then poured over a country bread velouté with beurre noisette. I pierced the yolk with my spoon, releasing the golden goodness, and took a bite. It was amazing and packed with wonderful flavours of bread and toasted nuts, with the white truffle transforming the dish into something extraordinary.

Next, a dish that I was initially sceptical of – white truffle with seafood. Could this combination of flavours really work? In a word, yes. Tartare of Scottish langoustine was served with hazelnuts from Piedmont, rocket jus, and an intense Alba truffle ice cream. This was an electrifying dish, although maybe the ice cream was a touch too overpowering for the delicate langoustine. I was delighted to see a flash of pink in the tranche of truffle that topped the dish, indicating that it perhaps grew near a poplar tree instead of the typical oak – one of the very best kinds of Alba truffle.

Darroze hails from the Landes region of South West France, which has a heavy influence in her cooking. The next course was escaoutoun, a polenta-like dish made with cornmeal that is native to the Landes. This peasant staple was elevated to haute cuisine by the addition of chicken stock, rich and unctuous Vacherin Mont d'Or cheese, and of course by more slivers of those 'white diamonds'. This dish was so rich and so filling that a little of it went a very long way indeed. But those wonderful flavours of corn, cheese and truffle were as comforting as a great big hug.

Another seafood dish next. This time a Jurassic sized Scottish scallop was served roasted in its shell, with Parmesan 'cappuccino', and white truffle shavings. Again, it was sensational, the salty parmesan acting as a perfect foil to the sweet, succulent scallop, while the white truffles did their ambrosial thing.

The next course left me speechless. Roasted veal sweetbreads were served with Sardinian artichoke, potato gnocchi, and Alba truffle shavings. The whole thing was doused in a foie gras velouté. Oh. My. God. I find that restaurants so often disappoint with sweetbreads, but these were a revelation. A salty, crisp exterior yielded to soft, bouncy, bone-white flesh, its silky texture providing a mild bacon-like flavour. The artichoke was perfectly al dente with a lovely grassy and nutty taste, while the gnocchi was satisfyingly chewy. And the foie gras velouté? Well let's just say that it took every ounce of willpower not to lick the plate clean. This was one dish where the white truffle was definitely playing second fiddle.

On to the cheese course, and probably the most 'ordinary' dish of the meal. A thick slice of double Coulommiers cheese (a creamy cow's milk cheese, not dissimilar to brie) that was stuffed with white truffles from Alba was accompanied by a simple green salad. The potent truffle aroma had permeated the cheese nicely, giving it a wonderful flavour.

The last course was quite possibly one of the finest desserts I've ever had. Layers of mascarpone cream, sponge pudding, Alba truffle, sliced almonds, and almond foam were served in a clear glass. It was jaw-droppingly good. The cool, sweetened mascarpone was juxtaposed nicely by a warm, eggy, vanilla sponge pudding. The residual warmth of the rich sponge was just enough to bring out the flavour of the truffle, so that those wonderful aromas enveloped everything. The almonds and oh-so-light almond foam added a touch of perfumed nuttiness and a variation in texture. When combined, the flavours were nothing short of breathtaking – think of it as 'trifle of the gods'. Amazing.

I finished the meal with a jolting espresso and a selection of petit fours from a trolley containing vast sweet shop-style jars. Salted butter caramel and milk chocolate truffle were fine, but no match for the previous theatrics, while a chocolate and raspberry macaron was unfortunately tough and leaden.

In many ways, this is a somewhat strange restaurant review to write. The real star of this meal was, of course, the Alba truffle. It needs no cooking or elaborate preparation. It just needs to be sliced thinly and served. The accompanying food, therefore, plays a mere supporting role; a blank canvas that can showcase the flavour of the truffle. But, of course, it's not as though the food doesn't matter at all. Matching and balancing the pungent aroma and flavour of the white truffle to create something truly special takes supreme skill. While I could happily have white truffles served simply with scrambled eggs, risotto, or plain buttered pasta, I was so impressed with the skill of the cooking shown at Hélène Darroze. Every dish from the menu was perfectly in balance, every bite heavenly. The truffle aromas shone through boldly, but not to the extent that they drowned out the other flavours. In fact, quite the contrary – it was almost as if the truffle flavours were enhanced by the matching food. At £200 without wine, the Alba truffle menu at Hélène Darroze is almost recklessly extravagant, but it is a real culinary tour de force. This is one meal I will reminisce about for a very long time indeed.

Food:         9 / 10

Service:      7 / 10

Ambiance:  8 / 10

Hélène Darroze at the Connaught

Carlos Place

London. W1K 2AL

United Kingdom

Tel: +44 (0)20 7499 7070