Despite speculative emails and many phone calls in search of a reservation, I have never been to Noma, El Bulli or the Fat Duck – the top three in the latest list of the World’s Top 50 Restaurants which were announced last night.
In fact, I’ve only been to one of the three restaurants in the UK to make the list, and to three overall. As such, I am hardly qualified to pass judgement on the Top 50 at all. However, everyone likes a list. If nothing else it gives us something to argue about, a starting point for a discussion about why my opinion is better than yours.
Over on Twitter the chat has been ticking over merrily. Our very own Willie Lebus asked “How many of the top 50 are about yummy food and happy eating?” It’s a fair point. The list is dominated by big name chefs and multi-starred establishments. Most lie at the multi-course, elaborate tasting menu end of the market. Willie’s argument is that such restaurants often score top marks for innovation, technical skill and mind-blowing dishes but less highly for good old-fashioned fun. It begs the question ‘what is a restaurant for?’
I have certainly eaten meals that were as intimidating as they were impressive. A couple of years ago I couldn’t wait to escape L’Astrance in Paris (no.16 in the list), despite having eaten at least two of the best dishes I had ever tasted. The room and service was stuffy and cold, the reverence to Pascal Barbot’s technical genius suffocating. I can’t remember anyone in the room smiling let alone laughing.
A few days later at Combal Zero outside Turin (no.35), the contrast couldn’t have been greater. The room was bright and open, the young staff buzzed with enthusiasm and chef Davide Scabin was personally open and welcoming. On balance, Bardot’s food was better (just) but it is Combal Zero I long to return to because it made me happy. A meal without joy is just something to fill the gap.
Joy is something that St John (no. 43) specialises in. I love the place. Always have, ever since an Aussie chef I was working with brought in his curled up paperback copy of Nose to Tail Eating and opened my eyes to a brave new world of tripe and trotters. But what Fergus Henderson does best at St John is not accurately-cooked offal but capturing the pure and simple pleasure of eating. A few weeks ago I sat in the bar and watched three young American diners be served a whole spotted dick drowned in custard, a wobbly jelly and a plate of madeleines. They demolished the lot in minutes like greedy children at a birthday party, grinning like Cheshire cats as they ate.
It reminded me why I think St John, for all its rusticity and simplicity, is worth its place in any list of the world’s greatest restaurants.
Tags: food, Restaurants
I don’t agree with St John’s The three times I’ve been theservice has been a mess. The food when you get it is very good but no better than a decent neighbourhood restaurant in Girona or Barcelona.
I do 100% agree with going somewhere to have fun though. I ‘ve just found the service to chaotic and slow there for it to be fun.
Rachel – I’ve heard that said of St J before (along with gripes about paying x amount for some leftover entrails) but every time I have been there they have been spot on. Maybe I’ve just been lucky. All I do know is that whenever I have left, I have done so with a big smile on my face.
I’ll be in Barcelona in the summer so will be tapping you up for some tips.