THERE are times when you want to go to a
restaurant simply because the alterna- tives are just too depressing. Even if you like cooking, there's something so desper- ately wearying in knowing that the eating part is just a question of holding off time till the real game begins — the washing-up. And that's leaving aside the shopping. If you cannot bring yourself to draw back the curtains in the morning because you know it's only a matter of hours before you have to stagger over to them and draw them all over again, you'll know the syndrome well. The best way of treating this, restaurant- wise, is not by going anywhere spectacular (unless this is a rare complaint) but to somewhere sympathetic, uncomplicated and affordable.
Surinder's Brasserie in Bayswater is one such place. It's just off Westbourne Grove, tucked away from the ghetto-blasting, all- night groceries; here the terracotta paint- work and glow from the warmly-lit pine within give off a douceur-du-foyerish wel- come. Certainly, that's the intention of Mr Surinder, the affable and well-preserved Indian chef/proprietor who parades the ground, hand on hips, in apron and white clogs. He's anxious that his brasserie should not be thought of as merely a restaurant —nothing as impersonal as that. 'These are all my friends', he said expan- sively, arms overstretched, to us all. He's a man who likes talking to his customers and, once you've listened and nodded a few times, well — you're a friend.
His dogged enthusiasm has served him well. He opened just under a year ago and he's now fully booked every evening. He professes to turning 20-30 people away a night. The brasserie is open from nine in the morning, and you can come and go eating as much or as little as you please all day; in the evening there's a fixed price dinner menu, but only one sitting, so nobody is rushed.
Surinder's triumph lies in the £8.50 (until recently £7.50) three-course menu. For some reason Mr Surinder eschews his native cooking and proudly boasts of his cuLsine provencale. Each night there are six starters and six main courses (puddings vary). The menu changes daily according, gratifyingly enough, to market availability and prices. On the night I went I was impressed with the choice; soup, aubergine with tomato Gruyére, cheddar and parme- san; salmon and avocado salad; coquilles St Jacques; haddock florentine, and frogs' legs.
Of these starters, the salad did come as a bit of a disappointment: a few lettuce leaves with a dollop of avocado mousse in which were secreted a few salmon parti- cles. I admit that it would be difficult to produce anything too lavish with their obviously restricted budget, but why not offer instead a salad with cheaper raw ingredients? The scallops were cooked in a way I had not eaten before; in a ramekin, covered with the cheesiest of cheese sauces and quickly blistered under the grill. It tasted good, though it seems a pity to overwhelm the delicate flavour so. The frog's legs were fleshy and delicious.
Next you could have an entrecôte in a winy-tomatoey sauce provencale, roast duck 'Vasco da Gama' (with a cherry, prune, port and cognac sauce), rack of lamb, or one of three sorts of grilled fish: salmon, tuna or grey mullet. The fish is well worth going for as it is wonderfully fresh (Mr Surinder claims not to possess a deep freeze; indeed, looks horrified at the idea) and cooked simply and well. The tuna, sprinkled withfines herbes and lemon juice, was particularly good. On the meat front, the duck was not much to write home about, except in quantity — you are presented with half an enormous duck --- but the meat had a slightly braised taste to it. I am sure everything was perfectly fresh, but this really could have been one of those prepackaged prepared duck dishes (as in l'orange etc).
For pudding, I'd advise fresh fruit or a sorbet. The wine list is limited, but there's nothing wrong with the house plonk at around £5. Coffee comes in limitless quan- tities and is delicious.
On Mondays there are poetry readings. (Among those who've read are Peter Por- ter, Anne Stevenson and Donald Davie.) After the reading you can eat, but there's no prix-fixe dinner menu.
Mr Surinder exults in this 'cultural huh- bub' which he sees at the centre of his brasserie. Vienna 1900 it isn't, but it's good value and at least you don't have to do the washing up.
Nigella Lawson
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