Claridge
Gordon Ramsay
London

In Claridge's, signage is deemed vulgar. Which makes it impossible to find
the reception. Or the bar. Or the restaurant where Gordon Ramsay has just
set up shop. The foyer staff aren't likely to help - well, they don't want
to appear too pushy. So I would recommend putting any special requests (like
"where the hell is every damn thing?") in writing. I wasn't sure I was even
in the right building until I spotted Meg Matthews in her denim mini. Pop
culture, evidently, was somewhere in the vicinity.

Gordon Ramsay's new venture looked a little too open-plan for my taste. It
had too many doors, and felt like a hotel lobby with tables. It certainly
wasn't the kind of place where I felt comfortable enough to slip off my
shoes. The room was art deco in style, but little about it felt original -
apart from the intricately-etched mirror. The lights gave everyone in the
room a warm, orange glow. Like eating at a George Hamilton III convention.

The staff were settling in. One waiter was being reprimanded by the maitre d
' for holding his head at the wrong angle. Well, Ramsay could see the
evidence for himself on CCTV. Every table is covered by a camera so that he
knows when to send in food, and when to clear it away. The 'pass' is like
air traffic control. And air traffic control is like chess in three
dimensions. But cooking, or rather Gordon Ramsay's cooking, is a much more
serious business than that.

I hope Ramsay caught sight of my waiter on his CCTV. He was typical of
French waiters, who know that the customer is never right. And his smile was
the most disingenuous I've ever seen. It evaporated quicker than chloroform
once he had taken my order. He then used exactly the same script on the next
table. Like some double-glazing salesman, working from a call centre in
Cardiff. It didn't make me feel uniquely special and different.

I was pleased to see crosnes (pronounced croans) on the menu. The tiny Asian
tubers, that look like fusilli and taste like artichokes, are the hush-hush
vegetable of the vegetable set. Crosnes won't even be in Tesco's until this
time next year. The funny little things are fiddly to prepare - to fashion,
if you will. I've only ever eaten them with their stems trimmed 'au paysan',
or into the shape of a 50p piece. At Claridge's I thrilled to see them
formed into a perfect round.

I hate to put Ramsay on a pedestal - his voice only gets louder, up there.
But, regrettably, it's where he belongs. Still his cooking manages to
surprise. In his hands, the simplest of dishes taste complex. My fish in
sauce (civet of brill, poached in red wine with creamed potatoes, glazed
salsify and roasted shallots) tasted like no fish in sauce I've ever tasted.
It stopped me mid-conversation. What the hell did I just put in my mouth?
Was that really just fish in sauce?

When I last met him, Ramsay was ranting about the phenomenon of celebrity
chefs. "About 99 per cent of them don't actually have restaurants. They don'
t have profit to worry about. All they've got to worry about is when they
are next appearing on Ready Steady Cook." He seemed to despise that whole
circus. A few favoured customers - Michael Winner for instance - were
allowed into his kitchen, just to say hello, but it was a rarity. All that
has changed.

At Claridge's, Ramsay plans to introduce his own 'chef's table'. Eight
guests will be summoned to sit in the middle of his kitchen. So, no more
tantrums. And no more 'accidents' with the meat cleaver. But then a 100
price tag makes it easier to keep one's temper. Ramsay seems happy with the
new set up. His heroic face - in the style of Stanley Spencer - graces the
cover of the restaurant matchbox. And he paces around his kingdom. Six times
in the course of an evening.

I liked the price - a three-course dinner for 38. But if dinner is good
value, Ramsay knows his guests will buy better wine. Ramsay wants to be the
first chef in Britain to win six Michelin stars. But winning three stars at
Claridge's, while keeping three stars at Gordon Ramsay, isn't going to be
easy. In order to be in two places - Mayfair and Chelsea - at once, Ramsay
says he'll have to run. To date, his personal best is seven-and-a-half
minutes. Four minutes of that is probably negotiating the Claridge's foyer.

Richard Johnston
Posted in alt.food.restaurants
11/20/01
