Alain Ducasse is on a London charm offensive with a new book based on the capital that calls for its own coffee table, and a new “casual” restaurant – Rivea London at Bulgari Hotel. Derek Guthrie takes a dip in the Knightsbridge offshoot of his Byblos Saint-Tropez dining room
What are the French doing in London? 300,000, a population now equivalent to France’s sixth biggest city, live here now, flummoxed by chicken tikka masala and dirty burgers, random Tube strikes and the Greek tragedy that is cricket. And by the weather: on the spring night Rivea opened, a downpour of torrential rain so ferocious we had to scatter for cover across the street, to drip and shiver under One Hyde Park – the Candy Brothers’ super-expensive apartment block known locally as “Europe’s most expensive tenement” thanks to A.A. Gill, but for us, tonight, a glorified bus shelter.
When we finally made the dash over to Bulgari Hotel it was into the hands of the man Gordon Ramsay so desperately wanted to be and whose pockets jangle with Michelin Stars – Alain Ducasse. Ducasse now oversees 26 dining rooms worldwide. This spring, as well as publishing a new book, J’aime London – a paean of love to the gastronomic delights of the British capital – he has opened a second London establishement (a third is already hinted at), bringing San Trop’s most refined menu from the Byblos on the Med to the basement of Bulgari, to transform this most international hotel into a local hangout.
When I lived around here, I would occasionally meet my neighbour – a gazillionaire football club owner – in the Sainsbury’s opposite Harrods after 7pm (“Same food, dear boy, never mind the yellow stickers”) before we made our way home past the bunch of hoodies skulking outside the local butcher, smoking, staring at their trainers, playing with their phones, just like any street corner really. Except these were the offspring of Middle East royalty and their joy rides were purple Lamborghinis, not third-hand souped-up Subarus. (They still sported go-faster stripes though.)
Rivea London, by Pierre Monetta
Now these kids can don their Docksides, sans chaussettes, and munch on socca, just like real Provencals. Because Rivea – new, informal, relaxed – isn’t really for those 300,000 French exiles who are in London to discover Hackney, but for the international young and moneyed. It’s a 55 second walk from Harvey Nicks to the front door, a full twenty seconds further than that Daniel Boulud burger place.
Inside, stairs lead down to a shimmering oval room by Italian architect Antonio Citterio – blue and cream with silvery chrome and a distinct splash of superyacht wood, more closely resembling M. Ducasse’s Monaco home than his roots near Biarritz. Croisette glam if you like. The staff are dressed down in a novel combination of navy cardigans and Converse trainers (even handsome sommelier Nicolas has to forego his apron) which makes speedy service look even sportier. They are all – because this is Ducasseland – sensationally charming.
Nobody who eats fried chickpea galettes is going to look good on the beach, so let’s just say the Rivea socca is a size zero
The menu consists of small plates (oh, stop whining, go to José if you want Spanish tapas – I do) “inspired” by the markets of the Cote d’Azur. Staff encourage sharing, but we demurred. Socca is where to start. Nice market has my favourite socca shop, Chez Pipo, but frankly nobody who eats fried chickpea galettes (only ever in the plural) is going to look good on the beach, so let’s just say the Rivea socca is a size zero – tasty rather than the fortifying stodge of the street. Among the other Riviera staples are octopus salad, soft mozzarella with basil, lobster en gelée, plus firm English asparagus and wafer-thin parmesan sheets. Small pasta courses of herby freshness are followed by little “mains” of more lobster and beef; seriously tasty, perfectly cooked, delicious. All that’s missing is the sea view.
Rivea salad wrapped in a socca, by Pierre Monetta
And Rivea might very well resemble a shoreside café if your only experience of Ducasse in London has been the mothership at the Dorchester. Over there, it’s a wholly different ball game: three star gastronomy, complete with little tableside stools for your Anya Hindmarch tote. The lunch menu sounds expensive at £55, but for three courses, water, two glasses of wine, plus all the chocolates, bread baked on the premises, coffee and little amuses it’s really rather acceptable. Ducasse plays with super-luxe ingredients like nobody else, and the menu at Ducasse at the Dorchester changes daily, but one notable house staple, which has been on the menu for years, is asparagus baked with morels in a pastry encrusted pie dish. It is rural, earthy and yummy.
Unexpectedly, the Ducasse charm offensive has now produced a rather enjoyable coffee table book, J’aime London – the third in a series. The previous two volumes in the series covered Paris and New York; the former led me to places I would never have discovered; the latter, less so. This third volume provoked a lot of headnodding in agreement. It may feature his own place up front, and well established institutions from the Galvin restaurants to The Wolseley, but he also mentions Rules and Tayyabs before he heads off to Broadway and Columbia Road markets, pops into The French and Frank’s Cafe in Peckham, and even hymns the more fleeting joys of streetfood at Kerb and Brixton’s vibrant new marketeers. Co-written by Civilian contributor Rosie Birkett, it’s essential reading for visitors, or simply those who wish to know, right now, the best London places to eat. It’s a monster of a tome which may require its own miniature coffee table, but cleverly it contains a slim pocket version for carrying about town. C
Rivea London, Bulgari Hotel & Residences, 171 Knightsbridge, London SW7 1DW UK
020-7151 1025; rivealondon.com
