http://brasseriechavot.com
41 Conduit Street, Mayfair, London W1S 2YF
+44(0)20 7183 6425
Closest Tube: Green Park, Bond Street
Friday 22 March, 7pm
Verdict: Thumbs up
A drizzly end to a working week and we are hurrying up Conduit Street to make our reservation. We sweep through the doors and pass through the horseshoe velvet curtain to enter an art deco haven. One radiant smile from the reception lady and the worries of my week and my damp hair are forgotten. The space exudes class, sophistication and a welcome air of tranquility. We walk past bucket backed chairs and textured red leather booths. There are striking pillars on the walls and dramatic chandeliers hanging from the ceiling reflected in tiled smoky mirrors.
We sit and an attentive waiter is at my elbow within moments to ensure we have water. Sparking Badoit is opened and poured without interrupting our conversation. We are comparing notes on how many Chanel handbags we counted on our way through to our table. The place is awash with those with money and those that for all intents and purposes want to look like they have money. I guess that goes with the post code.
We are presented with menus, adorned on the back with a picture of the tiles from the beautiful mosaic floor at our feet. The front lists the traditional dishes they serve, hailing from the borders of France and Germany, such as Choucroute Granite, Snails, Sardines, and Liver.
It is their busiest night since opening that week, their first Friday. We keep an eye on the tables near us to see if any early diners are being rushed through their meals in readiness for the next sitting. There is no sign of this which is great given they could be cramming in the masses based on reputation alone. We strike up a conversation with the happy couple next to us. The cerviche gets a double thumbs up from the table next door. We are excited to order.
We are bought potato bread and sour dough. A nod to the Irish. Our waiter is French and delightful. I do my usual routine of quizzing him on the set-up, how opening week has been going and what he thinks of the menu. Rapport built and a fountain of knowledge to tap. He tells me that while he is French, the rest of the restaurant’s employees are a mix of different European backgrounds. Apparently, there was a conscious decision to ensure the staff were diverse to prevent this French Brasserie becoming too French, whatever that may mean.
The wine list is extensive and we are delighted to find they serve carafes of wine for peanuts. Crab Mayo arrives for my dining companion. It is lovely and fresh. Simple and good. My soft shell crab, a personal favourite, is served to me on a chopping board lined with an edition Parisien. Nice touch. My crab is crispy to perfection with no trace of oil. Given my past consumption of soft shell crab I have the potential to give a scathing review but in this instance it is not required. This is up there with some of the best. Within medal contention if this was the food Olympics.
We have decided to share two dishes as is our want. A lentil stew with cod and carrots, presented with a vinegar, white wine, and shallot gravy for the fish. Along with a tiger prawn. Literally singular. The plate is colorful with the large crustacean flanked by chorizo, tomato, chickpeas and olives.
The two dishes are interesting by collation. The lentil is subtle and elegant versus the loud, assertive prawn. The contrasts between the dishes are endless. Soft lentils with a crunch of shallots, understated and well balanced. The prawn on the other hand has less substance and is limited in quantity. The one similarity to highlight is that both are rich. A comparison of the Middleton sisters springs to mind. Kate is the high protein pulse while Pippa is the aquatic arthropod. Who can help but love both?
We are comfortably stuffed so we split the sweet course. Coupe Exotique is our closing ceremony, which explodes like fireworks in your mouth. Danny Boyle would be proud. Its very sweet contents is served in a double walled glass and is like an exploration in dessert: Mango sorbet, fruit including banana, kiwi, watermelon, and tremolo, topped with merengue crusted in sugar along with crumble.
I visit the bathrooms and am tracked back from the toilet to my chair like I am the Pope on parade. I watch the waiters gesturing almost imperceptibly to each other as I walk, with the final one in the line stepping forward in readiness to help me with my chair. I’m impressed.
They serve us Jung tea in Jenaer glass pots. I’m in tea heaven. A fitting compliment to a flawless evening. Picking up the £117 bill makes me happy. Value for money in a lovely setting with impeccable service and tasty food. What more could delicious nation want? *rhetorical question*
