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THIS week's column represents something of a first for me; a voyage of discovery, though on a purely gastronomic level no great adventurous spirit was called for. Le Mazarin (828 3366) is not a new restaurant, and its chef, Rene Bajard, was formerly head chef at Le Gavroche, so the risk factor could be counted non-existent.
For me, the novelty lay in its location. I had never eaten in a restaurant in Pimlico before. (Though my visit to the Dolphin Brasserie did bring me near it — and my comments about that have not, I fear, been forgotten.) But not only had I never been to a restaurant in Pimlico before, I don't think I'd ever been to Pimlico. I have never been sure where it was or whether it really existed. It always sounds to me more like a sort of material than a place. And even having been there (the taxi took a very tortuous route), I'm not quite sure what it's about.
According to The London Encyclopaedia (edited by Ben Weinreb and Christopher Hibbert — a marvellous book, and danger- ously compulsive, which, incidentally, has just been reissued by Papermac, £12.95) it is 'the area lying roughly between Chelsea Bridge Road, Ebury Street and Vauxhall'. That seems specific enough, and where even with my geographical sense — I imagined it must lurk, but for some reason it still seems a phantom borough, a place created not evolved, not that this is the case. Pimlico has definitely been around for some time: Pepys records a visit 'to the Neat Houses in the way to Chelsy'.
It's certainly pretty: hushed terraces of stucco houses, elegant though with the sort of doll's-house charm which makes them more attractive to look at, I suspect, than to live in. In the basement of such a house lies Le Mazarin; here is where you come for the sweets of Pimlico.
In the Seventies a basement like this would have been coated with a deep burgundy gloss. Now everything is pink, but this is the first restaurant-pink that I've come across (and it is the most popular colour) that works. What I like particularly is the way they've splashed it all over without making any effort to hide the friendlily uneven plasterwork. The full- flounced curtains and general fabric- fanfaronade I'm less keen on. What they've tried to do is make a basement seem not like a basement, but I feel their potential for success here had to be li- mited.
But you come to Le Mazarin for M. Bajard's food, and here the possibility of disappointment or failure is unequivocally ruled out. There are a couple of menus, one for £17.50 and a menu gastronomique for £24.75. From the regular menu, which changes, though not in full, once a week, I cannot think you could have anything more delicious than the fricassee de poulet fer- mier au basilic — chunks of chicken breast, allowed to marinade in olive oil and basil, then lightly cooked, on a wonderfully earthy sauce deepened with lobster butter. This sounds strange, but the combination of seafood and meat can be exceptional. Jane Grigson has a recipe for chicken cooked with mussels, and Raymond Blanc has a dish of lamb with crabmeat in a slightly curried sauce which is out of this world. For plainer eaters, I would advise the mushroom soup — pale, creamy and delicate.
For the main course there's a choice of three fish and four meat dishes. Of these we tried the filets de sole Mazarin and magret de canard. The duck — slices of breast in a pepper sauce with a pumpkin mousse of satiny lightness — was a master- piece. The sole was what could be called interesting, though I found the port and madeira sauce just too robust for the breadcrumbed fish. I have to say, too, that I found the cheese a little disappointing; one of mine was definitely on the chalky side. But the puddings are a triumph: how can you resist ending with their nut- encrusted coffee mousse? You shouldn't. Neither of us were up to trying the menu gastronomique, but with M. Bajard's cook- ing I'm sure any adventurousness would be rewarded.
The wine list is not cheap, and there's much to desire on it. I'd go for something good and not too ruinous — and the pouilly fume at about £15 was superb. The bill for two, with drinks before and coffee with petits fours after, came to just over £60. One quibble: I asked if service was in- cluded and was told it was up to me. When I got home and looked again I saw that it was included. This sort of behaviour lets down a restaurant of this character. But despite that reservation I can only exhort you to try it.
Nigella Lawson
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