The Daily Telegraph, 13 October
Mark Palmer visits La Tour d’Argent, Paris

Just as we cross the Seine and catch a glimpse of La Tour D'Argent, my brother rings to say that he's found an entry in his journal for March 1990, when he dined here with a friend.  "It cost more than £100 a head and that was 17 years ago. Just thought I should warn you," he says. Come to think of it, even making a reservation at this 425-year-old Paris landmark should be accompanied by an early profit warning. I had telephoned long distance and was shoved in a queue, twice. Eventually I left a message, but no one called back. I emailed, rang again and booked for 8pm. Then I received a reply to my email saying no tables were available. I telephoned again and was advised to ignore the e-mail, but would I ring on the day to confirm the reservation? And, she stresses, Monsieur must wear a jacket and tie. Ooh la la.

For all the lavish amounts of time, money, physical effort and neurosis that people pour into the opening of a restaurant, you'd have thought they would carve at least a few hours out of the frantic schedule to come up with a decent name. In any creative or commercial sphere, after all, the importance of the name can hardly be overstated. I have never written a novel, for example, and doubtless never will, but what I have done is spend countless hours working on the name on the off-chance, eventually contriving a title of barely imaginable genius. "Have you read Matthew Norman's Booker-Nominated Modern Classic?" people would breathlessly inquire of each other. "No, what's it like?" "Och, don't ask - embarrassingly facetious cobblers from first page to last." Regardless of the reviews, the osmotic effect of hearing that name a few times would guarantee a bestseller.
Dinings – The Guardian review in full >>

The Independent on Sunday, 14 October
Terry Durack visits Texture, London W1

They used to say never trust a skinny chef. Now you can't trust a fat one. We are witnessing a sea-change in gastronomy; gone is the cream and butter, foie gras and rich, fat-laden charcuterie. In their place come the concentrated flavours of highly seasonal produce and new techniques such as gels, mousses and foams that give us flavour without the fat. Portions are smaller, presentation simpler and the effect on the body lighter. Chefs such as René Redzepi of Noma in Copenhagen, Sergio Herman of Oud Sluis in the Netherlands, and Alain Passard of Arpège in Paris have been advocating this lighter eating for some time. Now Agnar Sverrisson enters the fray with his own Nordic-influenced cuisine.
Texture – The Independent on Sunday review in full >>

The Observer, 14 October
Jay Rayner visits St John, London EC1

If ever I doubted the degree to which my emotional responses are governed by what I eat, I needed only to examine my feelings about the roast bone marrow with sourdough toast that I was served at St John. I didn't feel excited or anticipatory. I didn't feel happy. I felt affection. We had been through a lot together, this dish and I, and it was a pleasure to see it again. It is, to my mind, close to a perfect plateful of food: four sawn-off pieces of hard roasted beef bone. You take a pick and scoop around to release the hot jellied marrow which you spread on the toast, left just a little too long under the grill to create a few burnt, earthy places. Sprinkle with some sel gris, and eat. On the side of the plate is a salad of roughly chopped parsley leaves, dressed in something sharp to cut through the richness. On the plate it looks like sculpture. It eats, however, like something straight out of the nursery.
St John – The Observer review in full >>

Are You Ready To Order?
Jan Moir visits Pearl Liang, London W2

Where can you go to eat around Paddington Station? Are there any nice restaurants in the area? Can you get a decent meal before you catch your train? For many years, the respective answers to these questions were; a) you can’t, b) no, c) yes, stoopid, but not in the vicinity.  Now that’s all changing. The Paddington Basin development, just a short walk away from the station’s platforms, boasts at least two notable restaurants, Yakitoria and Pearl Liang. The first is a Japanese restaurant which had a disastrous opening, but seems to be faring better, while the second is an eccentric Chinese restaurant which S and I have grown to love. Where else in the city can you sit outside on a crystal clear autumn day, in a car fume-free environment, with baskets of lovely dim sum and piping pots of jasmine tea? Not many places, says S, sticking a giant, snowball puff of roast pork bun into his face, which keeps him quiet for at least five minutes.
Pearl Liang – Are You Ready to Order? review in full >>