The London Restaurant Awards

Where’s best to eat?

Sometimes the sheer choice of things to do in London is overwhelming. Restaurants are an excellent case in point. Even if you had Michael Winner’s appetite and the enthusiasm of Jamie Oliver you’d still struggle to try a fraction of the eating out options in the city.

On top of this there’s the prohibitive cost of a posh meal. At an average of £80 a head the top notch places aren’t easy to afford – especially in these credit crunch times. Which is where the restaurant reviewer comes in handy – that elite bunch of well-fed journalists who get paid to eat Michelin-starred food. They fork out on the lobster so you don’t have to and write with acerbic wit about the experience. A good review can make or break a new dining venture in this sprawling city. In fact, I’d guess that most Londoners spend more time reading where they should be eating than actually eating there.

Earlier this month the London Restaurant Awards gave the restaurant critics – Giles Coren and his cronies – the chance to put on a swish suit (with the obligatory expanding waistband) and listen to Jack Dee while some celebs told the assembled nominees who’d won. Like a fly on the wall (better than one in the soup anyway) I observed the evening’s proceedings from the sidelines and even got some one-on-one time with the winners when they were brought backstage.

There were some curious non-foodie celebs there… as well as Jack Dee (no filming, no photos, please), Suggs from Madness gave out an award and some D-lister from Celebrity Apprentice (I’ve no idea who he was either) threw a hissy fit for not being recognised. I also spotted a Dragons’ Den millionaire, a Spice Girl and Jimmy from Jimmy’s Farm rubbing shoulders with a rugby player.

Le Café Anglais scooped a few awards but the real winners, for me, were the ones who remained civil despite their success. I was delighted to see the Great Queen Street gang getting an award, I’ve been there and can confirm that it is excellent and not just for the food – which is hearty, English and meaty – but also with the staff. When a friend who used to watch football in the place (before it went gastro) loudly lamented the loss of the TV screens the guy showing us to our table didn’t flinch but politely agreed. That’s manners.

It was also a delight to meet The Greenhouse maitre d’ Jean-Marie who, despite the madness of the press room, made me feel he had all the time in the world. No wonder the restaurant won the Outstanding Service Award and the Award of Excellence. Appropriately, they were given the award by Silvano Giraldin, the outgoing and much-respected face of Le Gavroche, whose 37 years at the two-Michelin-starred Mayfair restaurant have made him a legend within the industry. Asked what makes a good restaurant and they both agreed: the staff. With bosses like this you wouldn’t mind putting in an extra shift.

One repeated theme of the night was the credit crunch (and this was before the Lehman Brothers bombshell) but most seemed unconcerned, convinced that if you offer quality food at the right price people will still happily pay for it. All this said with an award tucked under their arm, you can sort of see their point.

Scoring a Pointe

From prima donna to Maradona, or is that the other way round? The English National Ballet is mixing it up with some fancy footwork, a surge out of the wings or perhaps down the left wing and a bit of the old 'one-two' in a new show about our beautiful game - called ‘The Beautiful Game – A Football Ballet’ lest we’re in any doubt. This is an historic timeline of great footballing moments, which could bring in a flood of new ballet fans as grown men are reduced to bitter and patriotic tears in the stalls over Gazza in the dentist’s chair, Maradona’s infamous ‘hand of God’ or Geoff Hurst’s 1966 World Cup ‘They think it’s all over’ goal. Can you please switch off your mobile phones and keep the ‘who-are-ya?’ chants to a minimum?

The Time Lord does Prince of Denmark

The hottest ticket in town this winter is David Tennant’s ‘Hamlet’. Well, it’s technically the Royal Shakespeare Company ‘Hamlet’, arriving in London town from ol’ Wills’ birthplace of Stratford-upon-Avon, but no one really cares if it’s done by the RSC or the wannabes from X Factor; we all just want to see Dr Who Alas-ing poor Yorick! All 6,000 tickets sold out on the day booking opened with determined fans queuing round the block in the West End. It might help if David could replay the opening night a few times by jumping in a phone box…

Put your money where your mouth is!

This is decidedly not rock ‘n’ roll in the slightest. The famous tongue and lip symbol for The Rolling Stones has been sold to the V & A, that bastion of old relics (and no, we’re not talking about the people who curate the collections). As if it’s not enough that John Pasche’s original drawing (which for nearly four decades has acted as a motif for rebellious teenagers, who want to cock a snook at the System) is now incarcerated in a museum, the £50,000 price tag is going to pay for school fees. Presumably - for fifty grand - at an institution where pupils join the choir, not a rock band…

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