I'd hate to get blasé about grand hotel dining, so for myself I prefer that it should be kept for special occasions. Our recent visit was a dinner a deux to celebrate a birthday. One therefore applies rather different criteria to the assessment of such an experience. The atmosphere has to have a timelessness about it; that is to say that the diner must feel that time is of no consequence. To execute this illusion requires considerable skill and quantities of labour. The waiting staff must appear occupied, without any hint of hurry or stress. The pace of the meal must be perfectly judged, with time for conversation, anticipation, digestion even. Too long a wait might cause irritation, but it is sometimes an inevitable consequence of necessary culinary operations, in which case visits to the table to adjust certain details provide minor diversions and the reassurance that the diners' needs are paramount.
The process begins with the special way in which you are greeted and shown to your table. The Maître d' will have the confidence and experience to do this with sufficient dignity tempered with warmth and good humour that neither in any way communicates hauteur and distance on the one hand, nor presumption and familiarity on the other. This greeting process is vital as it sets up the mood and the expectation of what is to follow.
The menu will offer a sufficient range of dishes from the elaborate to the relatively simple, but throughout, the quality of the ingredients, their execution and presentation will be of the highest standard. The grand hotel version of a dish one might attempt quite routinely at home, should leave you in no doubt as to why you never contemplated a career in the kitchen.
The wine waiter should be charming and helpful, without making you feel a rank amateur; certainly not playing on your insecurity so as to order a wine three times as expensive as you can really afford. The food will be brought to the table to the correct people without vulgar cries of "Whose was the confit of pig's bum?", and waiters will not hover about mumbling the formulaic chant "Is everything alright sir?" Instead, they are always visible and within eye contact so that in the rare event of anything not being alright they can be summoned instantly and discreetly by a mere glance.
We were warmly greeted by maître d' Peter Bissoo, who is number two to the inimitable Jean Quero (I'm glad M. Quero is able to take the occasional Saturday night off). We were shown to a lovely table, but then all the tables are well positioned, with plenty of space between for side tables where the waiters can marshal their dishes. The menu, is extensive enough for you to agonise over without being so long that it arouses deep suspicion in one as cynical as I. There is a special set menu, Le Vingt Huit, for twenty eight pounds that features regional dishes with wines to match. When we visited, Alsace cuisine was matched with three glasses of wines from Hügel - I liked that idea very much. There is a also a Menu Gourmand costing forty nine pounds (all the prices at the Oak Room are written out in English), featuring the six most popular courses, including cheese, from the main menu.
We were first brought a rather ordinary amusette of a little piece of salmon with diced vegetables. Neither of us commented on this, I think we both pretended not to notice it, hoping things would rapidly improve. They did, spectacularly. We began in earnest with Carpaccio de Homard, garnished with a fresh john dory tartare in a shellfish dressing. It was beautifully presented, with the lobster claw meat removed from its shell arranged over the salad with rosettes of white meat decorating the circumference. The flavours were fresh with the tang of the sea. A platter of foie gras was sumptuous: it consisted of both pan fried duck foie gras, with well caramelised surfaces, and three thick wedges of confit foie gras on a sheet of port aspic. This is an expensive starter at Stg 22.00, but the ingredients must cost more than half that! Talk about sheer luxury! I lifted my eyes ecstatically to the crystal chandeliers.
It being the end of the game season, we decided to have a valedictory mouthful or three to see us through the spring and summer. A French partridge was nicely served and garnished, but lacked the necessary gamey punch for my taste, although I recognise that restaurants have to be more careful about this than, say, a gentleman's club where they can serve the stuff as high as a kite. The best flavours came from the accompanying pear compôte in a cider and honey sauce. Medallions of venison were perfectly cooked - seared on the outside and like mousse within. Each one was resting on its little bed of celeriac around a centerpiece of fig stuffed with chicory. The black pepper sauce was powerfully reduced. This was cooking by Head Chef Pascal Villain of a very high order.
Our young and keen sommelier proposed a glass of pleasantly botrycised Loupiac, Les Hauts de Ricaud 1990, to go with the foie gras, very traditional and a perfect match. With the lobster, a glass of the generic Alsace from Hügel was light and refreshing. With our main courses we very much enjoyed a bottle of the 1993 Aloxe-Corton from Arnoux which evolved noticeably as the evening progressed.
After a suitable pause, the cheese trolley arrived and proved quite irresistable. What a grand selection of wonderful French and English cheeses was offered! The Cornish Yarg was darkly crusted but moist inside. The soft French cheeses ran the gamut of flavour from mildly creamy to sharply aromatic.
After another rest we shared a tasting plate of desserts: it was yet another work of art. We sampled three out of no fewer than eight puddings on the dessert menu - the chef patissier is clearly a master of his craft. The fruit confits that decorated the sablé and the crème chibouste were particularly delicious as was the caramel sauce surrounding a mille feuille made by first thinly slicing, then toasting sticky toffee pudding! What a dream.
I don't often comment on coffee, but when you get an outstanding cup it makes you wonder why you bother most of the time. Seattle eat your heart out, the texture of my espresso was like Guiness, as black and velvety as an opera cloak.
The service really was impeccable: a delightful blend of professional care and attention tempered with friendly warmth and charm. Food was brought in hot under silver domes, but these were discreetly removed at the side table. Each dish was carefully explained by our waiter who clearly knew what he was talking about. The pace of the meal was well judged. When we asked for a pause we were left alone but not abandoned, help was never further away than a raised eyebrow.
People often complain that the prices in such establishments are prohibitively high. But surely, to sit in chandeliered splendour, not cheek by jowl with other diners, with more staff than diners even when all the covers are occupied is never going to be cheap. I've never quite understood why people beef about the price of dinner, but don't turn a hair at paying astronomical prices at quite ordinary hotels just for the price of a room and bed for the night.
Our four course luxury dinner for two came to one hundred and fifty pounds, inclusive of two glasses of champagne, two glasses of white wine, an excellent bottle of Burgundy, coffee and petits fours. I can't think of a better birthday or anniversary treat!
The Oak Room Restaurant is open for
lunch Monday to Friday from midday to 2pm
and for dinner from 7pm
to 10.30pm on Monday to Saturday. The restaurant is closed on Sunday.
Gentlemen are expected to wear jackets and ties.
The Oak Room at Le Meridien Piccadilly, 21 Piccadilly, London W1 Tel: 020 7465 1640
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