Le Gavroche, W1K ⋆ Sabrina Goodlife

“I have no interest in being treated like a peasant to the tune of £200+ per head”

I’ll start by saying Le Gavroche had already assumed a God-like status in my psyche, such was the impact of seeing the eyes of so many former diners glaze over when reminiscing on one soufflé or another, served with precision beneath the watchful glow of the famous sign hanging above the door. Le Gavroche inspires the sort of collective fondness usually reserved only for David Attenborough and the NHS. For that reason, it eluded me. I knew what I was going to get – the menu was so famous and the service so highly regarded, that when given the choice I always picked someplace else – some place that might surprise me. But finally I decided to scratch that itch, and booked a table for 2: surprisingly easy, given the reputation and all.We arrived to an unexpectedly warm welcome – the atmosphere was more of a favourite aunt welcoming you in for tea and ever so slightly stale biscuits. The downstairs dining room dances precariously between being reassuringly retro, and being in desperate need of a refurb. But maybe that’s what I want from this type of restaurant, and it’s about the food anyway. As I sit down the earthy perfume of truffle beckons me, and even at a glance the menu was a feast for the eyes – the diner is spoiled with choice, and it’s a truly decadent affair: lobster, champagne, truffle and caviar are scattered liberally over the menu. We opt for a glass of Champagne to start, with help from the sommelier who provided informative and confident service.My dining partner picked the lobster for her main course. The waitress taking our order decided to query her. “Yes but, the lobster main is this price” she says, rudely jabbing the price on the menu (£84,) as if to insinuate we might not be able to afford it. I found this approach to be rude and patronising, and for whatever reason only reserved for our table – everyone else ordered without question. Our starters arrive, and mine (lamb and sage raviolo with pumpkin, amaretti, and truffle) was one of those delightful plates that you smell before you see. A delicate ravioli sat on an obscenely buttery sauce, served with braised lamb and melting cubes of pumpkin. It’s a beautiful, smart plate of food. True, nothing groundbreaking, but good enough to have me scraping the bowl for every last drop of sauce. I did my best then soaked up the rest with a chunk of the perfectly average loaf of bread on the table.Our mains arrive. I have ordered the red wine braised ox cheek, with broccoli, maitake mushroom, and smoked bacon. Another waitress couldn’t remember what I had on my plate and after a few moments floundering, said something like “oh yeah, it’s broccoli, I have to say the same thing over and over all day so I forget”. These things happen, but it was an over familiar and amateur approach. I smiled through gritted teeth. If totally objective, my plate looked (and tasted) as if it could have been put together by a gifted home cook. The sauce was over reduced, the broccoli really was just broccoli, and I think i’ts fair to say, anyone can fry bacon. The plating is lazy, but I won’t deny it was a full flavour delicious meat and 2 veg, that I would be very happy with, if it were not being served to me in a 2 Michelin Star Restaurant that (just to remind you) had held God-like status in my mind for nearly a decade.

The raviolo was served without a knife. This may well have been the correct way for it to arrive but my dining partner asked for a knife. She was given one and we began to eat. A minute or so later our waitress re-emerges with a smaller knife which she said was better for the dish so the knife was swapped. A few minutes later, our waitress reappears (again) with a third, even smaller knife (which even I can tell is incorrect. It’s a butter knife). The knife is swapped out again and we continue eating.We have both picked the famous hot passionfruit soufflé with white chocolate ice cream for dessert, and after a short wait are presented with two soufflés that are slapped very haphazardly on the table, and pierced through the heart to allow for sour pearls of fresh passionfruit and a silky quenelle of ice cream which gently sinks into it’s molten core. The soufflé is a delight – a textbook example, but even the sex appeal of this sensual dessert couldn’t distract me from the fact that staff had at this point, mentally checked out of service. Thereafter service dropped off a cliff and we were quite ignored. Despite there being the last table left dining, getting staff attention to get the bill, then card machine seemed to take an age – two were chatting to one side, quite unbothered by our presence.For some reason our petits fours were packed together to take away in one box. We are two individuals from totally different households, and I couldn’t understand the logic in packaging our food together. They may have assumed (for whatever reason) that we were both related and living together – an absurd assumption. I asked for our petits fours to be split into two boxes and a (surly) waiter replied that he “had to go and ask” before walking off and returning with another box. They asked us at the very end of the meal if we were celebrating something. The notion that we may eat at places like this all the time was simply beyond the scope of their ignorance. The service as a whole was the worst I have received at any 2 Star restaurant. There is a type of service which sometimes occurs at restaurants of a certain age that reflects a bygone time when the only people who deserve good service wear suits or are regulars. I strongly believe in these restaurants the diners are profiled and it was decided early on that we were not worth bothering with. It’s worth mentioning the only other restaurant where I have experienced service this bad was another Roux restaurant – 3 Star Waterside Inn, where we were told there were two wine pairings available (one regular and one with fine wines) but were only given the regular wine list to peruse as it was assumed we wouldn’t pick or couldn’t afford the fine wines.I can’t deny the food was good, it was exactly what you want from this type of French restaurant: sky high soufflés, shiny sauces and so on, but the overall experience did not reach 2 Star standard. Even the cards placed front and center of every table advertising the cook book I found to be tacky and quite at odds with the essence of a 2 Star Restaurant. At £85 per lobster main, you’d think they wouldn’t need to use the table to flog merchandise. Le Gavroche website itself echos this theme and pongs of trouble in the Roux empire: The homepage immediately prompts you to “Discover the E Shop”. Scroll down and you’re prompted to buy Le Gavroche wine, and the cookbook (both heavily discounted). The E Shop itself is a host to all manner of branded products from pens (£3.50, after a 50% discount), to hoodies, decanters you name it, mostly on discount. A truly bizarre venture, and an odd priority for a 2 Star restaurant employing staff that cannot identify broccoli.It may not surprise you that no matter how strong the truffle, no matter how airy the soufflé, and no matter how prestigious the reputation, I have no interest in being treated like a peasant to the tune of £200+ per head. I enjoyed my meal but the inattentive and lazy service soured my experience and I would neither return nor recommend.Sabrina Goodlife.