Anyone with a working information of London eating places over the previous 30 years may have chanced upon Le Pont de la Tour on the South Financial institution, previously owned by Terence Conran. At one level in historical past, “taking place Le Pont” was synonymous with low-key luxurious: it was a reassuringly costly French restaurant in a transformed tea warehouse, serving lobster thermidor and, extra importantly, providing on-the-ball, high-calibre French-style service. This was a uncommon deal with in these days, as a result of, for nearly all the twentieth century, the British concept of front-of-house concerned a lady with a Rothmans kingsize in her mouth lobbing a pork-tongue ploughman’s within the normal course of your desk.
So, it was attention-grabbing late final month to listen to that Le Pont had expanded and opened an thrilling new bistro subsequent door that provided extra pocket-friendly variations of French classics akin to comte gougeres, duck confit with peas à la française and plats du jour akin to rabbit parmentier and ray wing au poivre. Escoffier recipes at Ivy Brasserie costs, it appeared to say.
The massive restaurant chain that owns Le Pont wasn’t very forthcoming with particulars of this grand refurbishment, however suffice to say we must always all get down there sharpish to eat steak frîtes whereas savouring fabulous views of the stunning Thames. And, although the Thames is, in actual fact, filthy and the final beautiful factor that occurred there was the Nice Frost Fayre in 1683, I booked a desk for Sunday lunch, not least as a result of I adore it when good rejigs occur to outdated, drained, retro locations.
The alarm bells began once we walked the size and breadth of the walkway outdoors Le Pont de la Tour on the lookout for the bistro. Was I on the unsuitable deal with? It wouldn’t be a primary. I requested the restaurant employees, who pointed me to a colorless doorway resulting in the bar space. “That’s the bistro?” I requested.
“Sure,” they replied. “The bistro is the bar space.”
“Ah,” I mentioned, and it all of the sudden all grew to become very clear: there isn't any “model new” Le Pont Bistrot. It doesn't exist. It's an imaginary bistro. Meals is merely being served within the lately annexed bar space, which wanted modernising a decade in the past, with all of the scabbled leather-based seating, mottled mirrors and damp loos with damaged cleaning soap dispensers knocked out and hurled right into a skip. As a substitute, it appeared like all of 7p had been spent on this specific “refurbishment” – that being the price of the ink to print out the brand new menu.
We have been led to an unclean leather-based banquette at a wobbly desk. Our server introduced a bottle of water that skidded about on its floor. “This desk is wonky,” I mentioned. “Can we transfer over there?”
“Oh, I feel these are wonky, too,” she mentioned, taking my order for salade cressonnière, a lesser-spotted traditional out of the Escoffier cookbook, as a result of somebody, someplace did at one level intend this place to be sensible. The cressonnière, it should be mentioned, was relatively fairly, that includes duck egg, ratte potatoes and a gribiche dressing of egg yolks, pickled cucumbers, parsley and chervil. Nevertheless, by the point Charles’s asparagus mimosa appeared – a forgettable association of spears with a fringe of chopped egg – our small desk was relatively crowded.
Mains have been much less profitable. Charles selected the £26 Sunday roast, and was given the crusted finish of a Cumbrian beef rump that had, for the the entire time, been curling beneath the warmth lamp, and that got here with some unlovable potatoes, inexperienced beans and a skinny jus. We're really in an age when the very best place to eat Sunday lunch might be at residence.
My grilled plaice was overdone to unbearably mushy, which made it not possible to tug the skeleton from the smooth, moist flesh. On the plus facet, it got here with a caper beurre noisette that had positively been given some care and a focus. The three unseasoned purple potatoes alongside have been, nonetheless, upsetting.
Previous this level within the meal, service all however evaporated, regardless of there being solely two different tables to cope with. Regardless, I did demand un petit pot au chocolat. Eagle-eyed readers might need seen that I've had a number of aborted makes an attempt to order one thing candy of late – employees shortages and normal flakiness have turned pudding into one thing strictly for these keen to face their floor – and, fortunately, a plate of lengthy, skinny, buttery, egg white and caster sugar langues de chat biscuits appeared (as I’ve already talked about, somebody, someplace does have some requirements) with a ready-made chocolate pot that was completely inoffensive and sweetened me up when another person’s cocktails have been added to our invoice.
For a bistro that doesn’t wholly exist – or no less than not within the method anticipated – Le Pont nonetheless managed to prise £112.93 out of my purse, together with £13.43 for service. I had hoped it might break my current run of slapdash eating experiences, mais plus ça change, plus c’est la même selected.
Le Pont Bistrot 36D Shad Thames, London SE1, 020-7403 8403. Open all week, lunch noon-2.30pm (3pm Sat, 3.30pm Solar), dinner 5.30-10pm (10.15pm Sat & Solar). From about £45 a head à la carte, plus drinks and repair
The subsequent episode within the third sequence of Grace’s Consolation Consuming podcast is launched on Tuesday 28 June. Take heed to it right here.
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