Gordon Ramsay, Royal Hospital Road: is it really worth 10/10?

I don’t envy Gordon Ramsay - or rather his head chef Clare Smyth - the 10/10 rating they received in this year’s Good Food Guide. It makes people like me think ‘Ha! I wonder if they’re really worth it?’ and book to find out.

Not that I have anything against Gordon. He was of the first chefs I ever interviewed when he was a sous to Marco Pierre White and I can only admire the empire he’s built - and still building. Having spent time cooking in France he’s an accomplished classic chef, a fact recognised by Michelin which has given his Hospital Road site 3 stars since 2001. Another accolade to assess.

It took us long enough to get a booking anyway - a couple of months - so unsurprisingly the restaurant was full. It’s smaller than I remembered - still essentially the same room occupied by his predecessor Pierre Koffmann when he ran La Tante Claire.

I was greeted as if I had been there last week by the maitre’d Jean-Claude Breton who said how nice it was to see me again. Did he REALLY recognise me and if so how? I hadn't been for at least 10 years. My friend N had booked, not me. An impressive feat of memory if so.

There’s the usual ushering to table, a stool on which to put your handbag (laughable in our case as our bags were so huge they topped off so we had to keep them on the floor) and a minion to escort you to the Ladies.

We were offered a glass of champagne in a hospitable way but were both sufficiently old hands to know that means at least an extra tenner on the bill (or £14 in GR’s case) so held our fire - also resisting the offer of a white truffle pasta special. The accompanying warm gougères we were given anyway were faultless

The menus are ordered on the prix fixe model. As N wanted to compare the restaurant to Troisgros to which she had recently been she went for the £95 one while I tried out the £55 lunch. Although the three starter and main course options bizarrely included four dishes that contained ham I think I got by far the better deal.

My starter of pumpkin agnolotti with Iberico ham, sage and amaretti biscuit (above) had a gorgeous roast pumpkin 'jus' ladled over it (there were a lot of sauces being ladled) - a really terrific dish. Roast rabbit loin - also with ham and salted baked turnips was beautifully presented, if a touch salty and a fresh dessert of roast pineapple with coconut parfait, coriander rum and lime sorbet just lovely. Like an upmarket pina colada.

N was less impressed by the vast sausage-shaped (I’m chosing my words with care) beetroot which was presented at table then dismembered and served with goats curd and a kaleidoscope of colourful blobs and swirls, a rather ordinary - and small - main course of turbot with clams and a fiddly carrot ‘cake’ with mead, bee pollen and cream cheese ice-cream that had us both longing for a big vulgar slice of the real thing. You can read her trenchant reaction (with some rather good pictures) on her blog The Food Judge.

To do GR credit I certainly wasn’t short-changed on the amuses because I was having the cheapest menu. They were actually rather more exciting than N’s dishes: a deep fried chicken wing in a glass tube which billowed smoke and a fabulously sexy potato purée with smoked egg and truffles. Both would have been lovely with the champagne I suspect most there would have been drinking. There were also some pretty flashy petits fours which we were still offered despite the fact we didn’t order coffee or tea. Brownie points for that at least.

We had difficulty finding an affordable bottle from the very pricey wine list, eventually splashing out a half bottle of a lovely creamy 2010 Bernard Moreau Chassagne Montrachet (for £46) which was decanted and served at cellar temperature by the impressive young female sommelier. I topped up with a gorgeous glass of Ziereisen ‘Schulen’ spåtburgunder from Baden (£15) which proved perfect with the rabbit.

Overall though there just isn’t the wow factor you would expect from a restaurant that scores 10/10 - or from a 3 star. There aren’t enough dishes that leave you stunned with their invention and virtuosity. And no Gordon. Obviously. In fact it’s hard to see what role he plays in the restaurant. My guess he comes in for a menu tasting every so often and emails Clare with a dish he’s spotted somewhere - the talk when she got the GFG accolade was all about her not him. But a restaurant called Clare Smyth obviously wouldn’t pull in the punters the way the Ramsay brand does. Odd to say this of a Ramsay restaurant but it lacks personality.

The bill came to just over £250 for the two of us - I guess not excessive for a 3 star but we had been reasonably careful. You could easily clock up a bill twice that amount as I’m sure many people do. Worth it? Maybe if you've never been, maybe for lunch but despite the VIP treatment I'm in no hurry to go back.

Gordon Ramsay is at 68 Royal Hospital Road, London SW3 4HP. Tel: 020 7352 4441

Spring, Somerset House - the return of Skye Gyngell

No restaurant in London can have been more visited or commented on its first couple of weeks than Spring. Everyone seemingly has been there and has a view - not always complimentary - of the merits of chef Skye Gyngell’s return to London.

So why the hype? Well there’s a compelling human story behind the restaurant. Gyngell, the daughter of Australian TV entrepreneur Bruce Gyngell, had a well publicised (and successful) battle with alcohol and drug addiction which still gives her a somewhat waif-like quality. After working as both a restaurant and private chef she came to fame in the noughties through her stint at Petersham Nurseries Café which spawned cookbooks and a column in the Independent on Sunday. Since she left in 2012 bemoaning the expectations created by a Michelin star she’s been somewhat below the radar until this project which is clearly supported by some very wealthy backers.

It is a stunning space which spills over two rooms in the new wing of Somerset House - one like a romantically leafy glade, the other a much larger open brasserie, its walls studded with ceramic flowers. It feels like being in a dream, peopled by a slightly bewildering hierarchy of servers - women in colourful tents who seem to be the greeters, waiters, largely male, in what appear to be clown outfits. I'm sure a psychologist would have a field day with it. No wonder the restaurant has been such a long time in gestation.

There is at least thankfully no menu concept which has to be explained, just artfully simple food which apparently changes from day to day. Gyngell has a light touch, relying on first class ingredients rather than any cheffy tricks. There are no smears, drizzles or foams. Our starters were just lovely - some silky onion squash ravioli with ricotta and marjoram butter and an original twist on the well-trodden scallop and cauliflower combo - scallops with romanesco, beurre blanc and chickweed (the menu lists plenty of on-trend hedgerow ingredients)

This was just as well because the main courses took a good 45 minutes to arrive - clearly an oversight about which they went into a meltdown of embarrassment. It happens. It was the second week of opening though I think the size and popularity of the restaurant has left them a bit stretched.

Despite lusting after the plates of pork belly that were going by we were glad we’d stuck to fish once it came - some crisply seared seabass with girolles and chanterelles in my case, a beautifully fresh Dover sole with cannellini beans and spinach in my daughter-in-law’s. Both top notch.

Despite flagging slightly by this stage we felt we should at least try a couple of desserts - a very good homely hazelnut and pear tart and a slightly odd unmoulded pannacotta with damson sorbet and wood sorrel which tasted better than it looked.

We were brought a succession of well-chosen wines by the sommelier Frank who appeared to be the only member of the team wearing his own clothes. Cleverly he picked more adventurous pairings for me than he did for my daughter-in-law - a light red (Domaine des Roches Neuves Saumur Champigny) with my bass and a 2010 Jean-Marc Vincent Auxey-Duresses les Hautes for her sole. And suggested an amazing natural Sauternes from Domaine Rousset-Peyraguey I hadn’t come across which was great with the tart. As always it’s a rewarding but expensive way to drink. My guess is that with three different glasses each our wine bill would have come to around £40-45 a head - slightly less than you'll pay for the food. (Frank, having read this points out that the wines he selected would only have come to £30 a head which is still rather more than some people would expect to pay for wine but by no means excessive. So reckon on £80 a head + service including wine)

I just have this concern that Gyngell might have bitten off more than she can chew with Spring - that she’d be better suited to a smaller, more intimate venue. With its 100 covers it seems a big space for someone who strikes me as a domestic cook at heart rather than a chef. Which is also true, of course, of Ruthie Rodgers at the River Café and she’s pulled it off, so who knows?

I will go back though, probably at lunchtime when the room must be lovely flooded with natural light. And when it’s quite a bit less expensive than the evening. Apparently children are welcomed too which makes a pleasant change for a high-end restaurant.

PS If you want to experience Spring on the cheap you can sit in the 'Salon' outside the restaurant and have one of Gyngell’s rather glorious ice creams, a glass of wine and a sandwich, or, even better, an apple and pistachio soft drink (above) which may be the most delicious non-alcoholic option in London.

Spring is at Somerset House, Lancaster Place, London WC2R 1LA. Tel: +44 (0)20 3011 0115

I ate at Spring as a guest of the restaurant.

The Colony Grill Room at the Beaumont: pure old-fashioned glamour

It has to be said that no-one knows how to do glamour like Chris Corbin and Jeremy King, the founders of the Ivy and the Caprice and, more recently, the Wolseley, the Delaunay and my current favourite, Fischer’s

And now a hotel. Not just any hotel but an incredibly grand ‘boutique’ hotel bang in the middle of Mayfair, in a discreet little side street opposite Selfridges. And, of course, a restaurant, The Colony, in which I could happily spend most of my waking hours.

That is of course rare for a hotel restaurant. Good though the cooking may be they often don’t work, housed in vast cavernous spaces which make you feel you should be somewhere much more fun. Corbin & King’s small gem of a restaurant (I expected it to be bigger) is attached to an equally elegant bar from which you can eat your heart out with envy at the lucky diners who’ve managed to score a table.

The menu is pure Corbin & King. Very retro with lots of American and mittel-European touches. I can’t remember when I last had oysters Rockefeller but they were never as good as this, nestled (gah! I never thought I’d use that word) in a velvety dark green spinach purée topped with just the right amount of crisp breadcrumbs, heated enough to warm the oysters without cooking them.

My friend Thane who was clearly born to inhabit restaurants like this had the day’s special, collar of bacon with parsley sauce, a dish that contained such a generous portion of ham she summoned extra sauce which was borne to the table in a silver jug.

My Veal Pojarski was a riff on C & K’s much loved schnitzel - more of a plump, pillowy escalope with a paprika sauce - pure comfort food. We ordered whipped potatoes which tasted as if they incorporated their body weight in butter and rosemary roasted pumpkin, possibly the only healthy thing that passed our lips the entire meal.

Puddings are wildly over the top. A wicked Bananas Foster (bananas in a caramel sauce with vanilla ice cream) and a Pistachio and Cherry Baked Alaska, flambéed at the table, with extra cherry sauce on the side before Thane even had to ask for it. There are little pads on which you can order bespoke sundaes, choosing from ice-creams, sauces and toppings which include chocolate flake and kid’s candy. C & K understand how to appeal to even their most sophisticated diners’ inner child.

The only criticism we had was of the other seafood dishes we tried. Slightly dull potted shrimps with not enough seasoning and a shrimp cocktail with what tasted like a rather gloopy sweet chilli sauce. Both overchilled. Not like C & K. They’ll probably have attended to it by the time you read this.

The wine list is intelligent too - slightly more adventurous than the duo’s other establishments with plenty available by the glass. We kicked off with Ostertag's Sylvaner and Albarino - both good with our seafood starters then chose Eben Sadie’s Sequillo Red with my veal (good with the paprika sauce) and a Moobuzz pinot noir for Thane’s bacon. We shared a glass of 2008 Valenti Bianchi Late Harvest Semillon with our puds which went better with the Bananas Foster than the baked Alaska. Neither of us cared a jot.

The whole thing quite frankly is a joy. Purringly smooth service. Lovely plates and cutlery, pretty glasses which I gather they had designed especially for the restaurant. (Of course they did.) And the loos …. ! Can’t forget the loos which are given the same minute degree of attention as the rest of the establishment. Note the handwash and the branded paper towels with The Colony printed on them. Pure class.

Book now while you can.

The Colony Grill is at 8 Balderton Street, W1K 6TF (just off Oxford Street) and is open all day from 7am. Tel: 020 7499 9499 or email info@colonygrillroom.com

We ate at the Colony as guests of the restaurant but I reckon you could get by for £40-45 a head for lunch or dinner without wine if you don’t go for the flashier seafood dishes, steaks or caviar. For what you get it’s not expensive. Rooms are another matter, alas.

Mission, Bethnal Green

What is a large palm tree doing growing in the heart of Hackney? Let alone INSIDE a building (a converted warehouse set in a railway arch). Well, it’s the latest outpost of hipster winebar Sager & Wilde, now with a fully-fledged restaurant, Mission.

The name is a nod to the time owners Michael and Charlotte Sager-Wilde spent in San Francisco - the Mission being a super-cool neighbourhood in the city and the list is largely based on hard-to-find Californian wines.

Michael, dramatically shorn of his trademark ponytail, presides over the bar, dispensing ‘three sip’ cocktails (a dangerously affordable £4.50) and conjuring up rare bottles like rabbits out of a hat. My neighbour at the bar orders a bottle of Randall Grahm’s 2002 Le Cigare Volant (gorgeous) with his grouse. "You got another bottle?" he asks. "Nah, only the one. You know how we roll." It’s all impossibly hip.

He (Michael, not the man at the bar) produces a series of half-filled glasses to test our tasting skills. What is this pale fragrant liquid? Not pinot noir but a Loire Saumur. The next - a dense damsony red I correctly place in California - turns out to be a Stag's Leap Petite Sirah.

There’s some lovely fizz - an elegant 2009 Schramsberg blanc de noirs and an extraordinary deep-coloured, rich, slightly funky1992 Beaux Hauts extra brut from the Russian River Valley that barely sparkles. Not for everyone - you need to go with an open mind about wine should taste like.

By this time we’re ravenous so we ask Michael to choose some starters for us. A whole globe artichoke with warm bagna cauda (a great way to serve it), deep-fried, crumbed grouse legs and figs like a posh KFC, and some excellent nduja arancini. Now we’re trying two gorgeous glasses of chardonnay - which turn out to be a 2012 from the Sandford and Benedict vineyard made by the Chanin Wine Company and a 2007 Raveneau Chablis from that night’s ‘Shizzle’ list of rarer more expensive bottles though to be honest they’re all pretty rare. And expensive. No, that’s not fair. There are wines by the glass for as little as £4.50 and most fall under £10

Next two super-Tuscan-style wines arrive to go with a platter of lamb ‘Scottadito’, a vast pile of deliciously charred herby lamb chops straight off the grill (scottadito means blisteringly hot). They’re served with some ridiculously good roast new potatoes that manage to be soft and crisp at the same time. Meat and potatoes - the obvious foil for a fine wine though this is done with some style. There is glee behind the bar when we can’t manage to finish the chops. Staff perks.

The two wines are a young Californian Sangiovese (I forget the name*) and a superb 1991 Tiganello, on sale that night for a bargain £17.50 a glass. No wonder our bill for two is £118.50 without service - even though Michael, who we already know from Sager & Wilde, has slipped in a couple of tastes for free.

So - a fantastic place for any wine lover but a dangerous one. My advice? Sit at a table rather than at the bar where Michael will tempt you to spend far more than you should. But the bar is so much fun . . .

Mission is at 250, Paradise Row a tiny alleyway just to the left of Cambridge Heath Road, less than 5 minutes walk from Bethnal Green tube (on the central line). It's open from 6pm on weeknights and 12 on a Sunday (brunch looks promising). There’s a craft beer bar called Mother Kelly’s next door.

*It is in fact the 2011 Pergamos from the Scholium Project - a blend of Sangiovese and Merlot.