R UH UMW IM MUMMEI.
Green's Westminster
DESPITE all the fond chatter about the British culinary renaissance of the last ten years, good plain English cooking sans coulis still remains extraordinarily hard to find. I have to say that this is not something that I mourn particularly. After all a good butcher, a passable oven and a not-too- marked disinclination to do the washing-up afterwards is all you need in order to cook what is, anyway, home-cooking at home. But I know that many of my readers are much exercised over the lack of good solid establishments offering good solid food, so for them I recommended Green's in West- minster, an expanded version of the oyster and champagne bar in St James's.
Green's Westminster is where Locket's, the MPs' old hangout, used to be, a few minutes away from the Houses of Parlia- ment in Marsham Street, and within the division bell area. Naturally enough, MPs still figure high among the clientele. Ken- neth Baker was there entertaining a select group of dark-suited men with roast-beef faces on one of the nights I was in, and the slithy toves are always there in force. I wouldn't, of course, like to suggest it's a parliamentary pick-up joint, but when I was there on another occasion dining with a girlfriend we were bombarded with invit- ing glances and winks from the wood- panelled booths across the way. When we joined some friends we'd noticed eating a few tables away, open season was de- clared, with a veritable St Vitus's dance of lewd gestures breaking out amongst the nearby tables, and we were all but expect- ing a rota to be drawn up and passed around by gawping diners who quite man- ifestly failed to grasp the innocence of our behaviour. If any of them are reading this now, I hope they feel ashamed.
This is predominantly, though not exclu- sively, a fish restaurant, and chef Beth Coventry provides the chaps with large amounts of good club food or, rather, better than good: fatly curling shrimps are potted and unmoulded on a pyramid of 'Suddenly I've no appetite.' buttery brown toast; smoked trout, eel, cod's roe or salmon provide the plainer starters, while the daily card plays discreet- ly with a few more adventurous A warm clam and red-pepper tart, a huge creamy wedge of it, or duck-liver salad are such supplements to the regular list.
The starters are large enough, but main courses are gargantuan: a thick pink slab of cold wild salmon, its densely feathered flesh poached to perfect compact softness; bulging fishcakes with green-flecked pars- ley sauce; bangers and mash. Chips are proper fat, golden English ones, not those matchstick strips which have taken over nearly everywhere else, and come to you burningly hot straight from the pan.
I had to have the omelette Arnold Bennett (an old favourite of mine, though I have shamefully neglected it over recent years) and so called because it was Ben- nett's favourite for late suppers at the Savoy when he was a theatre critic. Eggs are cooked gently then overlaid with flaked finnan haddock and parmesan, then seared quickly under the grill with a good dollop of thick cream. It wasn't quite as baveuse as it should perfectly be (runniness is of the essence) but good all the same.
It was the kippers, however, that got the most votes. The fat, silvery brown fish (two of them, and the two are very large indeed) arch over the plate and are banked with a pile of hot toast and poached eggs. I think one should take Alan Davidson's lead with these and drink with them a cup of strong brown tea. Otherwise the Australian Semillon from the Barossa Valley is prob- ably the best match for them — deep yellow and richly oaky.
Those with huge appetites (and taking the girth of many of the diners as evidence of that, I'd say small appetites are not a problem here) can finish up with the banana fritters or a mound of brown-bread ice cream. Expect to pay around £30 a head for more food than seems quite respectable to eat. And those who moan that good plain food is impossible to find should cease forthwith and book a table here.
Green's Westminster: Marsham Court, Marsham Street, London SWI; tel. 071 834 9552
Nigella Lawson
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