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The Fat Duck

Bray is a magical little village, its streets framed by tall trees dripping with ivy and peppered with wildflowers taller than yours truly, populated by tiny bunnies as small as your hand and giant rabbits as large as your torso, and home to people one might think are Lillipudlian judging by the diminutive size of the miniature doorways. Where better for the great magician of food, the whimsical, imaginative, playful and beguiling Master of Edible Theatrics, Heston Blumenthal, to set up his little shop of delights, The Fat Duck.

Coming to this triple Michelin-starred restaurant has long been a dream of mine, with its signature liquid nitrogen-dipped bacon and egg ice cream and edible candy in edible wrappers (neither of which is vegan, but which are awe-inspiring nonetheless). Heston’s marriage of gastronomy and science makes my nerdy Chemistry-loving bones tingle with excitement and squeal with delight. The restaurant is as humble as the easily overlooked Bray High Street: a plain white cottage with only its signature logo, three simple wrought iron utensils hanging from above, a secret signal to foodie pilgrims coming to Bray from far and wide, distinguishing it from the identical ordinary cottages lining the street.

We ducked inside from the drizzle and were welcomed into a surprisingly light, airy space lined with blue and yellow paintings. The staff immediately made us feel welcome with a friendly smile and a glass of champagne. I had the Delamotte Rose, while the hubby went for the Taittinger Brut. The rose was refreshingly crisp and acidic with a good depth of flavour. As we sipped the bubbly and nibbled on the olives, we peeked at the swirls of evaporating liquid nitrogen rising up from other tables and held our breath in anticipation. As it's a set menu, we knew our turn would come soon.

Set menus are usually impossible for veg(an) diners, but Heston is much more considerate than some chefs (ahem Gordon Ramsay) and adjusts the menu accordingly.  We booked the restaurant months earlier, as the Fat Duck has a rolling schedule; reservations open at 10 am two months to the day prior to the booking which means, particularly for weekends, pressing re-dial on two phones simultaneously until you hear a real ring, then listening to a charming reading of childrens' literature with bated breath and fingers crossed, hoping space is still available. The reservations staff was very polite and accommodating when I mentioned my vegan dietary restrictions, promptly sending the information to the kitchen staff and confirming again before our arrival. When the waiter arrived with our menus, he politely informed me that my food would be different and proceeded to thank me profusely for giving the kitchen advanced warning. This took me aback- mentioning my diet early was the only way I could expect a good vegan meal with a 12-course lunch! Apparently some people are less considerate and expect a full vegan meal with no warning whatsoever.

I read through the menu, trying to imagine what would replace the salmon, pigeon and snail porridge. The hubby meanwhile stared at his menu quizzically, wondering how a Michelin-starred restaurant could overlook a backwards menu, starting with the dessert and ending with the palette cleanser. The waiter returned and with a magician's touch and a twinkle in his eye, gave the menu a shake and a tap and viola! Fixed!

This playful touch set the tone for the afternoon. We realised at this point that a meal at the Fat Duck is not merely a meal: it's dinner theatre, with the food as the main cast and the staff as the emcee. It reminded me of Jaques Torres' lively TV show, Dessert Circus, where he throws chocolate to the audience and conjures up sugary theatrics. It's a completely different atmosphere from other posh restaurants. There's no snobbery here; no one looks down on you for asking rudimentary questions about the wine or food, they only hope you enjoy your time. Knowing this meal can be a once-in-a-lifetime experience, they even provide you with a showbill- a copy of the day's menu secured with the Fat Duck seal in hot wax.

The meal began with gorgeous bread and fruity olive oil for me, while the hubby savoured fresh churned herb-infused butter - he usually dislikes dairy so this must have been quite special. Meanwhile we ordered wine. We decided to go for a wine tasting menu each, trying the lowest and second-lowest range since the two of us aren't exactly connoisseurs. Rest assured even the cheapest tasting menu is lovely. Being a gentleman, the hubby took the lower range, giving me the more expensive wines- these are written first below each dish.

The long-awaited liquid nitrogen dish came: Lime Grove, Nitro Poached Green Tea and Lime Mousse. Unfortunately the base is egg white and cannot be veganised. Double checking the eggs were free range, I tried it as well. The egg white ball was lowered into the liquid nitrogen then dusted with a mix of powdered matcha (green tea) and lime zest to cleanse the palette and stimulate the taste buds. The delicate shell melted and spread throughout my mouth, followed by the delicate matcha taste and rounded off with a citrus tinge that, true to form, made my mouth water.

The next palette cleanser was Red Cabbage Gazpacho with Pommery Grain Mustard Granita. The only vegan modification here was granita rather than ice cream. Cool and slightly sweet with a subtle twinge of spice from the mustard, this dish was delicious and refreshing.

We were treated to another dose of liquid nitrogen (always a hit with me) in the next dish, but its role was not to change the texture or flavour of the food - it was to enhance the smell. As anyone who has had a cold knows, smell and taste are remarkably connected. In order to bring an earthy feel to this course, Jelly of Smoked Mushroom and Pea Sorbet with Oak Moss and Truffle Toast, Heston's henchmen went as far as to dig up a patch of earth and bring it to our table. Resting on the moss were two small plastic holders with what seemed to be Listerine Pocket Strips inside. This thin film dissolved on the tongue to release the taste of damp forest, further developed by the smell carried across as liquid nitrogen was poured over the soil. The clouds of vapour swirled out to the edges of the table, bringing an ethereal feel to the course and an earthy smell to the nose.

The flavours that followed were divine. On the thin multigrain seed-filled cracker was a mound of fresh, subtle truffles and chives, garnished with thin slices of radish. In a little nook was smoked mushroom gelee with a tiny pyramid of frozen skinned peas. The fullness of taste and the earthiness from the mushroom gelee were phenomenal. If one could eat that gorgeous dewy, musty smell in a deciduous forest, this would be its taste.

(Sidenote: the hubby had the same toast, but with Jelly of Quail, Crayfish Cream and Chicken Liver Parfait. He preferred mine.)

[First wine to come: 2008 Gruner Veltliner, Kamptaler Terrasen (Austria) and 2002 Peter Lehmann, Riesling Reserve (South Australia). Both had a full taste and good crispness, though I preferred the Austrian.]


While the hubby experienced Heston's famous Snail Porridge, I was treated to Pea Porridge with Shaved Fennel. Garnished with tasty micro-coriander, the fennel was soft in texture and taste and the pea soup was flavourful, but not particularly noteworthy.

[Second wines: 2006 Collio Bianco, Klin, Primosic (Italy) and 2007 Grauer Burgunder, Burkheimer Schlossgarten (Germany). I preferred the Italian though the hubby liked his German wine.]


For many courses, Heston decided to create vegan alternatives that resembled the meat dishes in appearance if not flavour, making them virtually indistinguishable. Mirroring the hubby's Roast Foie Gras with Rhubarb, Braised Konbu and Crab Biscuit (second picture below) was my Roasted Aubergine with Aubergine Puree and Braised Konbu (first picture below). Aubergine can be heavenly when roasted, turning soft and sweet and melting in the mouth. Unfortunately that lushness wasn't reached here. The aubergine puree had gorgeous smoky flavours, but the piece of aubergine itself was too solid and the taste relied on the konbu for depth to the extent that I was rationing out the thin square of seaweed as I ate. The highlight of the dish were the thin flaky crackers in between. When vegan-ising food you win some and lose some, and unfortunately the aubergine was not strong enough to stand alone in place of foie gras.

[Third wines: 1990 Ockfener Bockstein Riesling Auslese, Mosel (Germany) and 2008 Vouvray, Abbaye de Marbouttier, Vigneau-Chevreau (France). Despite reassurances from the sommelier that the Riesling wasn't too sweet, it was too much for my taste - but I'm not a Riesling kind of gal. The French wine was more well-balanced and went well with the food.]

Then came another little bit of magic. Anyone who's seen Heston's recent TV show will know how whimsical his imagination is. We were transported to another world, a miniature scene found down the rabbit hole and through the looking glass. We were invited to the Mad Hatter's Tea Party. It began with the White Rabbit's gold pocketwatch, which disintegrated in the hubby's tea as it was swirled around. (Apparently this bit of magic isn't vegan, so my gold came pre-mixed with the tea.) This speckled tea was poured onto a glossy toadstool-like mound, the kind of toadstool upon which I could imagine the Caterpillar sitting and smoking his Hookah. Instead of a caterpillar, this mound had three miniscule mushrooms poking out from the top - toadstools growing one on top of another. How that was made boggles the mind.

On the side was a garden of microherbs sprinkled over a cube of layered beetroot and possibly parsnip. The cube fell apart layer by layer, so the flavours did not mix properly. The star of the show was the umami-tastic tea, a vaguely mushroomy broth that filled the mouth to the corners of the tongue. In the dinner-theatre, this dish was fantastically imaginative theatre.


A perfect amalgamation of imagination, taste, texture and indeed all of the senses came through in the next dish, Sound of the Sea. It began with a little iPod shuffle hiding inside a conch shell with headphones emerging from the top. Putting on the headphones, we were transported to the seashore with crashing waves and cawing gulls. Combined with the blue and yellow accents in the room, the realistic recording truly relaxed us. The plate arrived suspended over a bed of sand, but much more intriguing were the sand and sea on the plate itself. We were presented with an edible seashore with foamy waves crashing onto gritty sand. The only comparable experience I've had to eating the sand is an Indian sweet called Soan Papdi, with a gritty texture that dissolves quickly in your mouth. This sand had none of that sweetness, but had an incredibly realistic texture that lasted just seconds before melting into nothingness. The texture stole so much of my attention that other than its savoury nature, I had no clearer opinion on its taste at the last bite than the first. The foam was also delightful, infused with a salty sea-like flavour using seaweed and agitated into such a light, airy foam that it, too, disappeared after just seconds in my mouth, making me crave more of that elusive taste.

The only disappointing part of the dish were the rocks in the middle. The hubby's dish had fish, whose taste melded perfectly with the sea-and-sand theme. I don't know if Heston ran out of substantial vegetarian options, but he made the strange decision to substitute the fish with mushrooms - again. If the taste fit, I would have no problem with this as I do love mushrooms. The earthiness of the mushrooms, however, felt incongruous with the breezy sea. A saltier centerpiece, possibly using seaweed or capers, would incorporate more seamlessly into the dish. Despite this distraction, this dish was still my favourite in the entire meal, the highlight I always cite when asked about the Fat Duck.

[Fourth wine: not a wine at all. DaiGinjo Masumi Nanago Sake, Miyasaka Brewery (Japan). Strong flavour, a bit too sweet for me for the dish but lovely as Sake goes.]


Next came a beautifully artistic bowl of Cauliflower Risotto with Carpaccio of Cauliflower and Chocolate Jelly. I recently read Heston's column in the Guardian where he discusses the plight of the cauliflower as an ignored and underappreciated vegetable. The delicacy with which he approached this dish reveals a tender hand and a true desire to let the vegetable be the star, rather than a mere replacement for meat. Notably, this dish was the most different from the meat alternative, which also shows it is meant to stand on its own. A small mound of cauliflower risotto was bathed in cauliflower foam and dusted with cacao powder. Perched on top was subtly flavoured dark chocolate jelly out of which coral-like tangles of dried cauliflower shavings emerged. The chocolate was somehow not sweet but not very bitter, leaving just a mild chocolate taste on the tongue. The two flavours worked surprisingly well together, and while the carpaccio was somewhat of a novelty item, the textures of jelly and foam accentuated the delicacy of the dish. The dark chocolate was also complimented by the smooth wine.


The hubby's Salmon Poached in Liquorice with Asparagus, Vanilla Mayonnaise, Golden Trout Roe and Manni Olive Oil.

[Fifth wine: 2000 Quinta da Leda, Casa Ferreirinha (Portugal). Lovely, not attention-seeking yet full and smooth.]

The final main dish was Vegetarian Bone Marrow with a Tea & Marmite Broth and Horseradish Royale. Once again, the broth stole the show in this dish. The 'bone marrow' was slightly mushy and uninspiring. The grilled artichoke and baby white radish were nice, but it was the tea and marmite broth, another umami-filled infusion, that kept me eating- or slurping- my way through this dish.

[Sixth wine: 2004 Amarone Della Valpolicella Classico, Tommaso Bussola (Italy) and 2004 Val di Cornia Suvereto, Olpaio, Rubbia al Colle (Italy). Two more lovely reds.]

Before dessert, we were served a final palette cleanser of Hot & Iced Tea, another surprising touch guided by science with mouth-boggling results. Hot tea is less dense than cold tea, so when poured carefully it can sit on top without mixing - similar to the concept of hot air rising. The result is an astonishing blend of what seems to be two distinct drinks with very distinct mouth-feels. Compared to the light hot tea, the cold tea seemed almost jelly-like with its cold viscosity. The two tastes mixed in my mouth, confusing my sense of taste and texture- surely these can't both be liquids, with the same ingredients? This was definitely a unique and delightful experience.

Finally, it was time for dessert. Being vegan I rarely eat desserts and was tingling with anticipation. The first (yes first- dessert spanned multiple courses!) dessert was Rhubarb with Crystallized Coconut & Rhubarb Sorbet. I've only had rhubarb mixed with strawberry and never knew its individual taste before this - tangy, almost citrusy, and very sweet... though I'm sure that's the added sugar. The gorgeous coconut dollops gave substance and depth to the light (to be honest, somewhat boring) rhubarb jelly.

My favourite part of the dessert was the trail of coconut on the side topped with a quenelle of sorbet (yes, I've been watching lots of Food Network - currently Iron Chef's Battle Eggplant which is refreshingly veg-friendly, but I digress). The crystallized coconut was gorgeously caramelized with that almost smoky  toasted coconut flavour, the sorbet was tangy and bright, and the thin slice of candied rhubarb was absolutely divine as it melted in my mouth.

[Seventh wine: 2005 Arbois, Vin de Paille, Jacques Puffeney (France) and 2008 Jurancon, Uroulat, Charles Hours (France). I honestly can't remember how these wines tasted.]

Finally came the cherry on top: the chocolate dessert. The hubby got the "BFG" Black Forest Gateau (pictured above), and I expected a less exciting vegan version. Instead, I was treated to Chocolate Delice, a shiny glazed dark chocolate shell hiding an almost stomach-churningly rich dark chocolate mousse inside. A weaker constitution may shy away after two bites, but I enjoyed every bitter-sweet bite.

[Eighth wine: 2008 Alella, Doc Mataro, Alta Alella (Spain). A sweet wine, which unfortunately means my opinion is immediately biased against it.]


One might expect the meal to be finished at this point, but one would be mistaken. The hubby was offered an unusual apertif: Whisk(e)y Wine Gums featuring whiskey from across Scotland and the obligatory Jack Daniels. A playful interpretation of non-alcoholic children's sweets, these wine gums apparently carried the strong, distinct taste of each whiskey within.

Full and happy, we were given one last treat to round off the fanciful feast: a  pink-and-white striped take-home bag with sweet shop goodies for an added punch of nostalgia and trickery. Why trickery? The contents included Coconut Baccy, channelling the look (and smell?) of chewing tobacco, Aerated Chocolate with Mandarin Jelly with the wonderfully light, bubbly feel of popping candy, Apple Pie Caramel with an Edible Wrapper (non-vegan, probably gelatin wrapper) and The Queen of Hearts, a non-vegan white chocolate creation printed to look (and feel) exactly like a thick playing card and filled with a thin smear of strawberry jam. The hubby said these were both just as delicious as they sounded.

The entire afternoon was a fascinating sensory experience, a once in a lifetime feast of devilish and divine creations. The meal had our taste buds tingling and savouring, awash in umami; our noses scrambling to identify every varied scent; our eyes blinking in confusion, surprise and delight; our ears wooed with calming sounds and jumping at pops; and our fingers and tongues marveling at unexpected textures.

Once upon a time it was the Junk Wagon driver or the Carnival man or the owner of Ye Olde Curiosity Shoppe that brought magic into children's lives. Now, in our cynical world, it's comforting to know that even adults can still be surprised, beguiled and enchanted by a funny little man, the unassumingly fantastic Heston Blumenthal.

The Golden Hind fish 'n chips

Quintessentially London, quintessentially British… what exactly does this mean in an incredibly international city with more kebab shops than “British” restaurants, and a country where the national dish seems to be Chicken Tikka Masala? We see these questions battled out week by week on the Great British Menu – if you add chutney to your venison, is that still British? By that note though, could you really add potatoes to any dish when it’s a New World vegetable, crossing the ocean only in the aftermath of Columbus?

Usually, we don’t bother with these questions, we just eat whatever food we happen to like. Only when a friend comes from abroad do we feel the desire to give them a real taste of London, and England and Britain. While we could bring them to a curryhouse, well, we make Indian food all the time at home so I doubt Britishised Indian food would feel any more “authentic.” So instead when my great friend R came to town, the hubby enthusiastically suggested Fish ‘n Chips. Not just any fish or any chips, it’s the chippy he’d read about everywhere as the best in the city but never dared to take me to, for fear that I’d grumble and/or starve.  The Golden Hind is raved about in foodie blogs and food columns across the capital and this was the perfect opportunity for him to enjoy it while getting brownie points from me!

So, that was dinner sorted, now what to do during the day? Coincidentally another great British institution, the Oxford-Cambridge boat race, happened to fall on the one day she was in town! We found a great little pub tucked away by the riverbank in Hammersmith and staked out a place overlooking the water. Joined by R’s and the hubby’s friends, we made a veritable crowd. As we waited for the race to start, R and the hubby entertained us with their usual antics. Lunch consisted of a very healthy mix of beer, Pimm’s & lemonade and French fries, with barbequed something-or-other for the non-veggies. (Surprisingly, no veggieburgers were available.)

We cheered on Oxford, not actually knowing which boat they were or who was ahead, and found out from our phones that they lost. Eventually we stumbled into a taxi and made our way to the restaurant in time for our reservation.

Tucked away next to Marylebone High Street was a nondescript little restaurant packed to the brim, with half of the tables clutching London travel guides. After spending some time standing awkwardly in the middle of tables while waiters squeezed past us, they showed us to our table downstairs in the bare but crowded basement and handed us menus.

Admittedly, I’ve been spoiled as a vegetarian. Most places have at least one sympathy item on the menu to appease the “veto vote” – the one member of the group who may force everyone to turn elsewhere for a more inclusive restaurant. Instead, this menu could be admired for its simplicity and its conviction to its beliefs. One side had fish. The other, sides and salads. No more. Simplicity at its best.

I cobbled together a meal of side salad, peas and chips to the amusement of the waiters while the three non-veggies ordered haddock and plaice with chips. The waiters buzzed around us, shouting up and down the stairwell, making us feel like tourists in Greece trying to fit in to the local culture and enjoy its uniquely blunt, disinterested flair.

Unsurprisingly, the vegetables were treated as a sidenote by the kitchen. The onions overpowered the salad’s dull lettuce, tasteless cucumbers and watery tomatoes. The peas lacked any seasoning, and the powdery salt and pepper in the shakers barely made an impact. The chips were fairly crispy, but by no means memorable, certainly not the epic experience I had hoped for.

The non-veggies seemed to enjoy the star of the show, fresh, lightly battered and crisp fish. Well, 3 out of 4 happy customers isn’t bad.

Moral of the story: this is one place that doesn’t cater to the veto vote, so veggies should save themselves the time and bother and go for a ‘curry’ instead.

Vegan Blueberry Pancakes

Pancakes & muffins are such a lovely start to a weekend morning, especially when they're so easy to make!!!! This pancake batter can be made in 5 min flat, even for a slow cook like me!

 Ingredients:
1 cup wholewheat flour (or normal flour if you'd like)
2 Tbsp baking powder (not soda)
2 tsp sugar
a pinch of salt
1 cup soymilk
2 Tbsp light olive oil (or normal vegetable oil)
punnet of blueberries

 Heat up a non-stick skillet to medium-low heat. Mix the dry ingredients (flour, baking powder, sugar & salt). Add the soymilk and oil and mix well. Pour about 1/4 cup of the batter onto the skillet and swirl the pan to spread it into a circle. (You can also use the back of a ladle/measuring cup- useful for multiple pancakes at once- but if so, make sure to fill in any holes with batter.) Place about 9 blueberries on top, letting them sink into the batter. When the colour of the batter has changed throughout (from white-ish to wheat-ish), flip the pancake over and cook for 1 minute. Done!

Makes about 12 small pancakes.

Enjoy on their own, or with syrup.

China Tang

Sometimes I forget that I really am all grown up… but there are always events that remind me how grown up, and how lucky, I am. This week it came in the form of dinner at the Dorchester’s Chinese restaurant. It’s not your local takeaway, to put it mildly.

We were taking out a couple, family friends of the hubby, who we’d been planning to meet for months and finally found a free date. The usual destinations were fully booked a month ahead so the hubby chose China Tang. I’d heard about the restaurant before, most vividly about the night a drunken Rod Stewart snuck in from a private party and conspiratorially hid a woman’s shoe under the hubby’s table, and had secretly been dying to go ever since. I switched my jeans for a skirt and heels and hoped it would compensate for my post-workout wet hair.

Arriving at the Dorchester, doors were held open as we whisked our way through the golden lobby and down the long hallway, which was scented with gorgeous, delicately fragrant fresh roses. The restaurant door is barely marked, like a secret club. We made our way downstairs and enjoyed a drink at the bar, giving in as well to wasabi peas and spicy rice crackers despite the knowledge that an amazing meal was right around the corner.

And amazing it was.

 First of all, there’s a great vegetarian selection. In fact, a whole section of each menu (the dim sum & noodle menu and the full dinner menu) was dedicated to vegetarian food. Oh yes, and there’s that magical word again: dim sum. This place even does vegetarian steamed buns! Despite their fluffy appearance, they are actually dairy- and egg-free - a bit of yeast does the trick.

After ordering the wine, we started with steamed vegetable dumplings, vegetable spring rolls, vegetable steamed buns and gai lan cannelloni (aka cheung fun).

The vegetable dumplings were good, standard vegetable dumplings. Well-cooked pastry, good amount of filling and lovely when dipped in the tasty vegetarian chilli oil. The spring roll was wrapped in layers of marvelously crispy wrapping, which the hubby quite enjoyed; there was so much wrapper that I could hardly taste the filling.

       

The steamed buns were loads of fun - soft and airy with the tiniest ball of filling in the middle. It’s a bit like eating marshmallows that collapse between your teeth, but without the cloying sweetness and instead with a little gem of soy-garlic-not-sure-what-else hidden inside.

The best starter by far was the gai lan cheung fun. Rather than the normal indiscriminate medley of vegetables, the filling was simply long strips of stir-fried gai lan, a green Chinese vegetable similar to the stalks of tenderstem Chinese broccoli. The gai lan was cooked to perfection. I had feared it would be too crunchy for the dish and the effort of biting into it would precipitate the collapse of everything that was unfortunate enough not to make it in your mouth. Instead, each bite came apart easily. The ratio of filling to pastry was lovely as well. Definitely a must-order dish.

 

For the second course, we had vegetable lettuce wraps while the hubby had duck. I usually skip this bit since most Chinese restaurants smother the filling in salty soy sauce, the only respite being the fresh lettuce leaf (when it is indeed fresh). I was surprised by how much I enjoyed it here. The filling was well-seasoned and was brightened up by tangy celery, which complimented the crisp lettuce. I even scooped up the extra bits of filling left on the plate when everyone had had a turn! (For non-veggies, they only do whole crispy duck but even their second-best duck dish that comes in smaller portions was apparently very very good. So the hubby says.)

On to the mains. By this time we were filling up quite nicely but still wanted a good variety, which of course is easy here thanks to the great veg selection. I was intrigued by the "Floral Mushrooms" but was persuaded to go for a slightly less adventurous dish, Assorted Three Mushrooms. Our guests requested Mixed Vegetables in garlic sauce, which doesn't appear on the menu but the kitchen was easily able to accommodate using mixed Chinese vegetables. Finally, we debated between Spicy Aubergine and Spicy Bean Curd Braised with Minced Pork... without the pork of course! The bean curd dish is more commonly known as Mao Pao Tofu. Both were described as Szechuan dishes, which are known to be mouth-numbingly spicy when properly prepared. We ordered the aubergine and tried salt and pepper tofu instead. All of this was accompanied by steamed white rice, egg fried rice and bean sprout noodles. Vegans, they also offer vegetarian fried rice without eggs, but the noodles are egg-based. (The hubby thoughtfully tried to ask if their eggs are free-range but the waitress was unsure, saying they get whatever the supplier sends; either way I'm happy with steamed rice).

When the mixed vegetables came, we were somewhat (pleasantly) surprised that it didn't consist of the standard medley of onions, peppers and carrots - instead it was mostly gai lan accompanied by pak choi. The vegetables were lovely, crisp but tender, and the sauce was thin and light. It was beautifully green and fresh.

The mushrooms were moist and almost buttery (I'm always surprised by this taste, even when I cook mushrooms at home and know that absolutely no butter touched the dish) but not overpowering. I'm still curious about those Floral Mushrooms though....

The salt-and-pepper tofu was less crispy than others I've had in the past, with a very thin skin. This of course is a matter of personal preference... and personally I'm starting to shy away from all salt-and-pepper dishes but the thinner skin does mean there's less oil. Our guests enjoyed the dish, which made us happy.

The aubergine came sizzling hot, juicy and soft, almost falling apart with a touch of the spoon, and miraculously not drowning in oil, in fact there was no oil to be seen. The taste and texture were gorgeous, though I was somewhat disappointed by the level of chilli-spice. It certainly was not made with tongue-numbing Szechuan peppers; of course it is to be expected that no Cantonese restaurant will get that kick quite right. Without that expectation, however, the aubergine was delightful. The only time I've had better aubergine was in Mumbai, when the chef somehow got the aubergine and sauce to caramelise, but that's another review for another day.

 

As for the accompaniments, there were no complaints so I assume the fried rice and noodles were satisfactory at least.

I was impressed by the freshness and flavours of the food at China Tang. While there was no surprising and creative flair, every vegetable and pastry was treated well and cooked just right, there was a good variety of textures and tastes, and each dish was balanced and provided a new dimension to the meal. The waiters were attentive, but at these prices it would be surprising if they weren't. Even the sommelier came by periodically to refill our wine glasses. The room is spacious enough and though the decor is a bit gold and opulent for my taste, it is what you would expect from the Dorchester.

China Tang is a great place for a special occasion, with more than enough food for veg(an)s. Of course, 'special' is a relative term... the two children next to us seemed to be quite comfortable there.

Taste: 9.5/10
Veggie Selection: 10/10
Cost: £45/person, not including drinks
http://www.thedorchester.com/china-tang
Park Lane, Mayfair, London
0207 629 8888