The menu of snacks and small and large plates is a thrill of fabulous ingredients: scallops, asparagus, cod, trout, pork, skate, chicken, beef. As if the supplier sent a list and chef said, “Yes, I’ll take all of that.” Fellow food critic Tom and I attempted to ape this approach with our order. We began with gougéres and ended with cabbage and, in each dish, the individual main ingredients were cooked to perfection.
No veg was given a second longer than necessary in the pot or on the grill; the meat was rested as tenderly as you might have led the late Queen Elizabeth the Queen Mother across a zebra crossing.
But then the trouble starts. Indeed, I’d like to see Purnell and co reverse their chefs’ whites and use them as straitjackets (it works by the way; I know, I have a restaurant). Then, duly restrained, their gorgeous food could be set free of nuts and cream, breadcrumbs and leaves, oils and sauces.