Quaglino's, Daphne's, Langan's Brasserie, San Lorenzo
WHEN the editor suggested that I wrote about overrated restaurants I took him to mean those subject to media 'hype', socially `111', hard to get into and overpriced. Taking a straw poll, four of the front-runners seemed to be Quaglino's, Daphne's, Langan's Brasserie and San Lorenzo. So, fighting back My prejudices or preconceptions and adopt- ing my most tolerant posture, I set out to investigate. My attempt to book an eight o'clock table at Quaglino's got things off to a bad start. A young female with a blunt Aus- tralian accent charmlessly informed me on the phone that I could have a table at 7.30 or fine, but her computer told her I could not Come at eight. It took referral to her manag- er, Mr Pol, and the revelation that I wished to write about the place, before an eight o'clock table was forthcoming. On arrival with the Oxford squash blue Miranda Bevan at the appointed hour, we were ordered to queue to check in. Then we were ordered to queue again to hand in our coats. I demurred, suggesting that one of the pert young women at the door do this for us, and generally exhibit a little more desire to look after the customers. We were led unsmilingly to a table at the side of the huge, cacophonous room, where tables for two are unadorned by linen, while those for four or more down the cen- tre have crisp, white cloths. From the long, brasserie-style menu (the prix fire expires at 6.30) Miranda chose (printed in red capi- tals as a 'special') seared tuna, wasabi and soy, which came appropriately rare and which she enjoyed. My crispy pork salad with ginger and coriander (in lower case red print) was less successful: salty pork scratchings with tired, chewy greens and a dressing apparently innocent of either gin- ger or coriander. Miranda followed with seared scallops, plus more ginger and coriander (lower case, red, £16), which was all right, not exciting, and the lentils are a Mistake', and I tried another red capitals job, ox cheek, roast cepes and parsnips (£14.50), which was horrible. The meat was overcooked and fibrous, the sauce over- reduced and treacly, the roast cepes and parsnips adequate, but the accompanying mound of lumpy parsnip mash was disgust- ing: no self-respecting chef should have let it out of the kitchen. Miranda's crème brule'e was all right, if on the stodgy side, and my Sauternes custard pleasant, though accompanied by unappetisingly shrivelled prunes. With coffee and a bottle of Alsa- tian pinot blanc at £18.95, and including 121/2 per cent for good service by a sympa- thetic French waitress, the bill was a grossly overpriced £87.64 for an indifferent meal in charmless surroundings. The place was packed and the crowd seemed happy.
As busy and as bad was Daphne's, where, despite having booked several days in advance, I was waved to a nasty table by the kitchen doors and had to ask to move. My god-daughter Lucy Gemmill, there to cele- brate her 22nd birthday, brimmed with enthusiasm to begin with, but it gradually evaporated. Her Caesar salad starter was fine, my grilled polenta was grossly over- salted and covered with wild mushrooms that had been reduced to an amorphous sludge. Lucy's sole meuni6re at £21.50 was an inauthentic travesty: a modestly sized fish, filleted and dunked in a white, slightly creamy parsley sauce. I ordered my roast rack of lamb (£17.50) pink; it came blue, its herb crust undiscernible and the fava beans dried out. Spinach cost an extra £3.50. Lucy's crème bridee had a soft top and was much inferior to what her mother makes. With an adequate red Italian wine, coffee and 15 per cent added for offhand and charmless service, the bill totalled an outra- geous £93.15 for a substandard dinner. The Eurotrash clientele who packed the place seemed entirely happy, and there were papara7.7i outside when we left.
Langan's Brasserie and San Lorenzo, both far longer established, were altogether more congenial. Peter Langan founded his brasserie in the 1970s, and since his demise Richard Shepherd and Michael Caine have done little to change it. The pictures are still on the walls, the atmosphere is perhaps less frantic than before, and the service is charming and adept. French gourmet Nathalie Jamot and I enjoyed our dinner. Starters were better than main courses, with Nathalie's chicken and leek with glazed cheese sauce, and my poached eggs with smoked haddock both impeccable. Neither Nathalie's fried breast of pheasant with brandy, cream and truffle sauce (apparently innocent of both brandy and truffles), nor my braised knuckle of gammon and butter beans were anything special, though both her white chocolate mousse and my elder- flower syllabub were enjoyable. With coffee and a bottle of Bourgogne pinot noir the bill came to an acceptable £75.45, including 121/2 per cent service, for an agreeable meal in a civilised restaurant.
Mara has been running San Lorenzo since the Swinging Sixties and it still has a socially high altitude. There were paparazzi at the door when we arrived, though not for us, and Tamara Beckwith was on her mobile phone in the hall, though, despite my companion being Petronella Wyatt, fur did not fly. The remarkable thing about our lunch was just how good the cooking was. Appetising aubergine parmigiana and buf- falo mozzarella with tomato and rucola though overpriced at £8.50 — to start, then in my case absolutely delicious bollito misto with green and red sauces, and in Petronel- la's admirable thin spaghetti with fresh clams on the shell, followed by superb and generously served zabaglione with fresh raspberries for both of us made a thorough- ly satisfying lunch; though with aperitifs, decent pinot grigio wine and coffee, the bill at £89 plus service was not modest. But at least it had been a pleasure to sit there, ser- vice was attentive, cooking correct, and Mara clearly cares. One cannot say that of some of the restaurateurs who have fol- lowed her.
Quaglino's: 16 Bray Street, London WI; tel: 0171 930 6767. Open all week Daphne's: 110-112 Draycott Avenue, Lon- don SW3; tel: 0171 589 4257. Open all week. Langan's Brasserie: Stratton Street, London Wl; tel: 0171 493 6437. Closed Saturday lunch and Sunday.
San Lorenzo: 22 Beauchamp Place, London SW3; tel: 0171 584 1074. Closed Sunday. No credit cards.
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