Eating outIt's odd to think that the capital of a nation that took Spam to its heart should now be the most interesting place to eat in the English-speaking world. Okay, New York is no slouch, and Sydney, when you consider its modest population, delivers a lot of gustatory fun, but London is where it's at. We are fortunate to live so close.
The London food revolution was a long time coming, and when Chris Corbin and Jeremy King started Le Caprice, at the back of the Ritz, in 1981, it was only a twinkle in a few eyes. But Le Caprice stripped the formality and old-fartishness out of London eating. The pair followed their revolutionary restaurant with the celeb-festooned Ivy and their reformulation of J Sheekey.
When these restaurants were sold at a huge profit, Corbin and King opened the Wolseley, a vast European-cafe-style establishment on Piccadilly with standards of excellence that set the bar higher, even for London. Then, last November, they opened St Alban, in what had been the BBC's Paris Studios, on Lower Regent Street, just south of Piccadilly Circus.
It is rather self-consciously cool in terms of design - a vast contrast to the traditional style of the Wolseley - and has been described as "space age meets the 1970s". In any case it was very quiet when we lunched there on a Saturday. This is instructive. Places frequented by Londoners are always quiet at the weekend. Tourist haunts are hopping (and, of course, the Ivy never sleeps).
I had heard that there's a Josper grill in the kitchen, and, although I know little about the mechanics of it, I wanted to see what it could do to food. And I was glad I did.
We had griddled Cornish sardines, impeccably cooked, sprinkled with gremolata, the fine dice of garlic and lemon rind. Simple? Well, of course. But the gremolata was inspired.
Octopus a la plancha with smoked paprika was perfect - just enough resistance to the teeth, the flesh sweet and fresh, the paprika enhancing the effect of the grill. This is what barbecued food should taste of but never does. At least, not at home.
It was reassuring to see that the risotto of violet artichokes carried a warning that it takes 25 minutes. You can't cook proper risotto in less time, and this was a very, very proper risotto: every grain of rice distinct, the texture judged to the second, the dish suitably creamy, the artichokes integrated throughout the whole thing. This was the best risotto I've eaten in a restaurant outside Venetia.
Charcoal-grilled baby chicken Basquaise was another triumph - and equally simple. The fowl had plenty of flavour for such a youthful creature, but the smokiness of the cooking and the sweetness of the roast peppers with which its slices were interleaved lifted it to celestial heights.
Tempted as I was by roasted figs on milk bread with honey ice cream, I had cleaned two plates already, which is well nigh unprecedented. So I shared a bitter chocolate tart, which was indeed refreshingly unsweet and beautifully silky, with milk ice cream. (The latter will faintly remind parents of small children of Milky Moos sweets, but in a very pleasant way.)
Simplicity is not just a great idea; here it becomes the definition of cool. That is progress. And the simplicity extends to the cheese selection, which comprised just three: Comté, St Marcellin and Cashel Blue.
When you eat in a restaurant such as St Alban, which has the advantage of being in a city of almost 10 million people, you can't help feeling that Dublin has a very long way to go.
Using exquisite raw materials and doing as little to them as possible is something you are much more likely to encounter in London.
Our bill, with mineral water, a side salad and four glasses of wine, came to £96.47, or about €140.
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Wine choice
A big selection of wines by the glass ranges from £4.75 for a white Gaillac to £17.50 for Poggio San Polo Brunello di Montalcino. We had the crisp, honeyed yet bone-dry Godello Montenovo Valdeorras (£5); Domaine de Terrebrune Bandol Blanc (£10), which is the only thing to drink with artichokes; and Priorat Celler Cal Pla (£7.50). Highlights among the bottles include Rami Falanghina (£22), San Michele Roero Arneis (£33), Domaine Talmard Mâcon Farges (£27.50), Yves Cuilleron's Viognier (£37), Domaine Merlin Pouilly-Fuissé "Terroir de Vergisson" (£59.50), Domaine Leflaive Bâtard-Montrachet 1989 (£195), Escobera Jumilla Crianza (£33.50), Capezzana Barco Reale di Carmignano (£27.50), Isole e Olena Cepparello (£88), Château Ollieux Romanis Corbières Cuvée Prestige (£29) and Château Pesquié Cuvée Terrasses (£26). Tignanello 1990 is £195, but give me the Bâtard-Montrachet at the same price any day.