Like so many traditions, its origins remain unknown. But for the past 20 years or so, my father and I have met — a handful of times a year — for supper at a French restaurant. We discuss the usual things: work, family, Arsenal’s inability to defend set pieces. But that is secondary. We are bonding.
We are also judging. The food is no afterthought — there is a scoring system. There are also expectations. We all like to have a laugh and a joke. To innovate and enjoy new things. But there are certain de minimis standards that all French restaurants ought to adhere to, in my opinion. A Kir Royal, escargot, duck confit and crème brûlée. As Thierry would say, look — I don’t make the rules.
And so, I thought today I’d share a few of our favourite spots (and one I really did not like). Not a comprehensive guide, of course. More a personal, butter-splattered map.
Le Café du Marché
Tucked down a cobbled mews on the corner of Charterhouse Square and set in a converted warehouse, you cannot go wrong with Café du Marché. The menu changes with the seasons but the classics are always deliver. If pushed, I’ll go for the rack of lamb for two. Three courses for £55 — plus, they still do chips.
Les 2 Garçons
I liked them before they were famous. What began life as a tiny restaurant halfway up Crouch Hill in North London has grown into, well, a slightly bigger restaurant in the heart of Crouch End. To say the place does joie de vivre would be to damn it with a Gallic shrug. Don’t leave without tasting the tarte aux pommes or chatting with Jean-Christophe.
Otto’s
The first thing you’ll notice about Otto’s is the deep red upholstered benches. And the cushions. And Otto himself, if you’re lucky. Rarely has more theatre gone into the preparation of a steak tartare. The place starts to make more sense the more you drink. Fortunately, situated on Gray’s Inn Road, you’ll have no issue stumbling home on a bus or Uber.
Chez Bruce
Now, we’re getting serious. Wandsworth Common was never easy to get to from my corner of the capital. Which is just as well, because it is the sort of place where you could blow an entire year’s balance of payments figures. The service is serious. But so too is the food. Please, I beg you, start with the lobster raviolo. On Sunday evenings they do free corkage — so you’re basically saving money.
Bouchon Racine
Situated above The Three Compasses pub in Farringdon, on the one occasion I went, I did not exactly stretch their menu to the limit. Snails, steak tartare and a pinot noir. Nevertheless, it’s a cool (do kids still say ‘cool’?) place and if anything like I remember, damn near impossible to get a table.
64 Goodge Street
Their website describes the menu as being based on “French cooking from an outsider’s perspective” which is so contorted a phrase it may have been drafted by Andy Burnham’s thinly-veiled leadership vehicle. But the food is terrific.
Le Garrick
Look. Le Garrick is the sort of place you go with old friends and while you might not be swept off your feet, you’re sort of missing the point. You’re in a cellar. The atmosphere is lively. Lean into the joy.
Hotel des Deux Rocs
I’m potentially cheating here because this is in actual France. But from the waitress who will take neither my charm nor my nonsense to the new potatoes drowning in butter, it is worth the trip. Be careful waddling home down the exceptionally steep hill.
BISTROTHEQUE
I’m sorry, I’ve tried to keep things relentlessly positive today. But I have a physiological aversion to Bistrotheque in Hackney. From the impossible to find entrance to the minimalist dining room and the desperately underwhelming food, I wanted to get out as soon as I (ok, my Dad) paid the bill. Sorry.
Le Sacre Coeur
Located just off Upper Street, I have eaten here so often that they started offering me a free digestif of my choice. Don’t come for dinner, it’s a lunch thing. Cheap, cheerful and with the hardest-working manager/owner this side of the Seine. Three courses for £19.50, a quid extra on the weekend. Grab a table outside and watch the world go by.
Bon appétit.
