Our round-up of what the nation’s restaurant critics were writing about in the week up to 24th November 2024

London Standard

Vatavaran, Knightsbridge

David Ellis visited the latest venture from Rohit Ghai, who made his name as founding chef at Jamavar and his since opened Kutir and Manthan in his own name. David was puzzled to find no trace of the ‘vibrant and diverse ecosystems of the Himalayas’ promised on the restaurant’s website: instead, he encountered a pretty standard if upmarket contemporary Indian operation on three floors, with a dining room that managed to be both “clubby” and “romantic” while at the same time lacking in atmosphere (‘vatavaran’ in Sanskrit) – surely a contradictory trio.

As for the food, David thought much of it was “excellent – Ghai is not only an accomplished chef but an assured one” – with such highlights as “cashmere soft” lamb chops; “addictive” fried prawns; lobster in ginger and fennel-heavy Nilgiri sauce; and buttery black lentil dal which “we ate greedily, as if starved”. 

There were disappointments, too, such as an “indifferent” duck dish and scallops in a “grey puddle of who-knows-what, not improved by the black truffle shaved at the table” – the tuber shavings, by some unexplained mishap, ending up on poor David’s lap.

*****

The Guardian

Noodle Inn, Soho

Grace Dent found herself queuing on a Monday morning for hand-pulled, oil- and chilli-drenched Xi’an biang biang noodles outside an 80-seater off the Charing Cross Road. This “no-frills canteen” is a viral internet sensation, so Grace just had to try it because “to ruin that Kate Moss adage: ‘Nothing tastes as good as eating a viral sensation feels’.” 

But are they, she wondered, the best biang biang noodles in town? It’s hard to say, she answered herself, because all biang biang noodles are pretty good – even the lacklustre ones – but the braised chicken was “a dream. I think of it often, sitting there paddling in an inch of spicy oil. But for God’s sake, don’t wear white and don’t take a first date here.”

If Noodle Inn is “utterly delicious”, it is also the case that “there are equally wonderful noodles available just streets away, where you can book a table, linger and order as much as you desire. Frankly, though, that isn’t the point.” 

*****

The Observer

The Martlet, Rochdale

Jay Rayner was left “slack-jawed” in awe by the restored splendour of Rochdale Town Hall in greater Manchester, whose gothic revival interiors are decorated with William Morris-style illustrations of peacocks and the martlet, “a mythical bird that was forever on the wing”. He was equally impressed by its all-day restaurant from chef Darren Parkinson, who grew up locally and trained at Hopwood Hall College just four minutes’ walk away, before a career which took him to France, Winteringham Fields in Lincolnshire and the Shibden Mill Inn near Halifax. 

There are cooked breakfasts, European bistro-style dishes, afternoon teas and more formal meals on Friday and Saturday evenings, but Jay was here for the traditional Lancashire dishes listed as ‘Rochdale Town Hall Classics’, all costing just £14: fish and chips served with “Manchester caviar (mushy peas, of course)”; bacon chop with Bury black pudding; and “joy of joys, a rag pudding” – “a parcel-shaped pie, named because of the way the suet pastry is hand-folded over the filling to make it look like a bundle of the cotton rags which once underpinned the region’s industrial economy.” Inside is both braised and minced beef, and it comes in “a reservoir of gravy so glossy you could check your hair and makeup in the reflection”. 

All in all, Jay sees the Martlet as a civic amenity delivered with a combination of professionalism, good sense, taste and skill: “every town should have one.”

*****

The Times & Sunday Times

The Yellow Bittern, Islington

Giles Coren chipped in his tuppence-worth on this lunch-only restaurant whose chef-patron, Hugh Corcoran, is basking in his five minutes of fame after complaining about tap-water-drinking, starter-sharing customers (although Giles insists that he visited before the whole brouhaha blew up).

Giles rather warmed to the “young, bearded, rubicund, seriocomic” Corcoran, and even indulged his insistence on serving natural wines, which usually drive Giles nuts. As for the food, “there was nothing there that I would have been especially proud to have cooked myself… but nothing that was beneath my eating.” He awarded it a lowly score of 4 out of 10.

Giles also managed – accidentally on purpose, you might think – to forget the Bittern’s cash-only policy, and of course the nearest cash machine was out of action. But the restaurant took a bank transfer from his phone – “they were very nice about it” – which rather spoilt the whole point of the cash thing.

“And for the record, I thoroughly approve of the Yellow Bittern. In a world of bland crap, global chains, celebrity chefs, tasting menus, online reservations, inclusive service, TopJaw, small plates and multizillion-dollar refurbs, I think a bunch of Irish kids round the back of King’s Cross saying, ‘Screw yous, this is how we do it,’ is the most refreshing thing I’ve seen in years.”

***

Sotto, Edinburgh

Chitra Ramaswamy headed for a “gorgeous” new Italian enoteca and trattoria in the heart of Stockbridge, the “affluent old village hugging a particularly fine stretch of the Water of Leith” that is her pick for Edinburgh’s foodie quarter of the year.

Founded by sommelier David Clark, it’s a place where wine gets top billing, with a “stunning” selection by the glass and a 200-strong list presented in a leather-bound book – and “on the wines alone, Sotto gets top marks”.

The food, though, is a different story: “flavours could be bigger, balance should be finer”, there are too many ingredients on the plate, and several dishes from both the main and dessert menus are “way too sweet … the refrain of the meal”.

*****

Claro, St James’s

Charlotte Ivers enjoyed what was “very nearly a nice dinner” at this outpost of a Tel Aviv restaurant whose food has “touches of Israeli cooking but owes more to Italy and Greece than its home city”.

Dishes of “delightfully crunchy” Brussels sprouts, fried whole, of “fresh and tangy” yellowtail sashimi with tabbouleh, yoghurt, pomegranate, pistachios, and of bucatini calamari in a white wine butter sauce were all good. But the roasted potato salad served with smoked pink trout “reminded me of the time I left a dauphinoise in the fridge for several hours pre-cooking and it turned brown and sad”.

But the high prices – trout and sad potatoes at £32, pasta at £35 – and the “fusty gentlemen’s club” location played against the “buzzy and supercool” reputation of the Tel Aviv original – as did the overbearing American-style service and “constant faffing with napkins. At one point, we were asked: ‘How was your first bite?’” 

Perhaps, Charlotte wondered, Claro is not really aimed at British customers: “us Brits can’t afford a nice dinner, and restaurants must appeal to those who take their salary in dollars to survive”.

*****

Daily Telegraph

Home Kitchen, Primrose Hill

William Sitwell did his level best to be generous to this laudable charitable enterprise which recruits staff from the “homeless community”, but he could not disguise his disappointment at the meanness of his meal.

Set in the “pleasant surroundings” of Primrose Hill, the restaurant is “sweet, sensible and conformist with buckets of warm conviviality”, and serves “safe and respectable brasserie fare” – “it defines itself as fine dining but, frankly, it’s not”.

This might be quite acceptable, especially as the food was all perfectly cooked and tasty, but William’s main dish of chicken “took me about three seconds to eat”. “For the place to really thrive it needs a little more oomph, more zest, more thrills and spills, more thrust and a bit more food… big sides of charred veg, bowls of steaming soup, big fat puds and gaudy chunks of cheese. A feast that befits its splendid cause.”

*****

Financial Times

Juliet, Stroud

Tim Hayward was drawn by “urgent whisperings from the gossip sphere” to an old industrial building in this Gloucestershire town now “reimagined” by sculptor Daniel Chadwick (who owns the Woolpack in nearby Slad), where young chefs Oli Glyde (ex-Woolpack) and Will Rees (ex-Wilsons in Bristol) are behind a French- and Italian-inspired menu.

Their cooking brought Tim to repeated peaks of gluttonous ecstasy: vitello tonnato was sliced “as thin as a worn-out credit card” and arrived in a sauce that was “ointment of the Gods”; “great sheets like silk handkerchiefs” of salame rosa, a more rustic version of mortadella, were “posted past my teeth in the most life-affirming act of meditative self-care I’ve managed all year”. Puntarelle all Romana, mousse de canard, steak tartare with pommes allumettes, lamb cutlets and poussin with buttery girolles (among other dishes) were all better than just right. 

Poor Tim had to head home early, leaving his companions from the “West Country foodisti” to Juliet’s already-famous tarte tatin, which must be ordered in advance and is shared by the whole table. It arrives in “great steaming wedges with a sharp, lightly fermented cream… They sent me pictures. The bastards.”

Tim usefully added that Juliet is a three-minute walk from the station, which is 90 minutes from Paddington.