T 'd always thought the major function of La restaurant
column was to provide an information service. Furthermore, I assumed that it's generally more helpful to be told of affordable places. Maybe this is wrong. Just as about 99 per cent of the newspaper-reading public regard the read- ing of a book review as a fine substitute for the reading of the actual book, perhaps a restaurant column should make its readers feel that they now don't have to bother to visit the place after all. In which case, it's more gratifying to read about painfully expensive gluttony at the Connaught, say, than frugality and value for money at a new-found greasy spoon.
But some people, not too flush, do go to restaurants and for those, rather than for the bill-happy expense-account artists, the information service holds good.
The Lantern is certainly not a greasy spoon, though prices are as cheap as you'd find in any caff — and the food can be very good. It is in Kilburn, one of the few still-ungentrified areas of London. Sadly, the smell of property developers lies heavy in the air, and it looks as if the place is just about to be turned into des. res. land. But Malvern Road (the Lantern is number 23) which is off Kilburn High Road and off again, looks pretty safe for the time being.
One of the drawbacks of cheap res- taurants is that people like going to them, and especially in groups. I fear that the Lantern is a favourite venue for office parties. But the general hubbub and steaminess of the place is in fact not trying; the atmosphere is spirited if smoky.
There is a prix-fixe menu, that is, all starters cost £1.25, all main courses £3.05 and all puddings 95p. There are a lot of sauces and a lot of pastry: if you don't like 'messed-up' food, read no further.
To start with we had cold spinach soup and crab-filled profiteroles with hollan- daise sauce. They had gazpacho on the menu that day as well and my soup did taste rather like a green version of that, or else a souped-up french dressing. Still, I rather liked it to dunk their hunks of granary bread into. They cater for hearty appetites: the profiteroles were more the
size of religieuses, but they were good and the hollandaise real. If you want something simpler, choose the moules marinieres, otherwise it's all quite rich: avocado with sour cream and danish caviar; pork slices
marinated in soya sauce and served with a peanut (sate) sauce; deep-fried emmenthal with tartare sauce; or marinated raw sal- mon on a bed of cracked wheat and parsley. The salmon is particularly praised and demand is such that they're unlikely to have any left if you're dining late.
Of their main courses I can enthusiasti- cally recommend the duck en croate boned, honeyed and herbed duck in puff pastry — and 'Monk en chapeau' — monk- fish and what they call crispy ratatouille, tomatoes, stir-fired peppers, onions and mushrooms, piled on to a crispy pancake the shape of one of those undulating opaque glass 1930s ashtrays. Now, I'm not saying that Escoffier would be proud of knocking up either of those two dishes, but given the staggeringly low price and the rate at which the kitchen has to churn them out, it is impressive. Seasoning is a little exuberant, and it might be wiser to skip the starter and go straight on to the main course to avoid a rather demanding pile-up of obtrusive flavours.
But if you're in the mood for something gungey, there's certainly something here for you: chicken stuffed with lamb served with a port sauce; veal escalope with slices of avocado, smoked salmon and a cream sauce; lamb steak marinated in garlic and lemon; pork escalope filled with cream cheese and chives and served with a mushroom sauce; or, if you're veering (but only veering) towards Healthy Eating, but are not yet a vegan, there's their, I hope and trust ironically named, `NW6 bowl', which consists of 'organically grown veget- ables, wild mushrooms and sea vegetables in creamed egg and baked'. 'Normal' vegetables cost 45p.
For pudding, choose from cheesecake, zabaglione, lychees, Princess Roll (which is, in fact, profiteroles), ice cream, sorbet and cheese. Their most expensive wine is about where most restaurants start off: a 1982 Brouilly costs £8.50, but respectable house wine (choose red) is £3.90.
This must be one of the few restaurants in this country where you can go and eat a
three-course meal for around a fiver — and decide to go again. If you haven't come by car, there's a mini-cab from 50 yards down the road which, inside, looks like a community-theatre set for Huis clos.
Nigella Lawson
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