Lunch (Tasting Menu) at Sketch Lecture Room and Library

The 2013 Michelin ratings for the UK were announced just under 2 weeks ago, and a new 2-starred restaurant, Sketch, was added to London's dining scene. Opened in 2002 and a 1-starred restaurant since 2005, it is the brainchild of French master chef Pierre Gagnaire and restaurateur Mourad Mazouz. As you will see from the pictures of the interiors, this 18th-century building has been completely redesigned as a centre for food, art and music, in a bold experimental style close to the hearts of both founders, and true to its heritage as the former headquarters of the Royal Institute of British Architects, as well as the atelier of Christian Dior for 15 years. Currently, Sketch houses a fine-dining restaurant (the Michelin-starred Lecture Room and Library, run by Gagnaire protégés Jean-Denis Le Bras and Roel Lintermans), a more casual brasserie, a tea room, two bars with house DJs, and an art gallery.

18th-century Georgian exterior typical of
buildings in London's Mayfair district

Anyone for a game of hopscotch? :)

Plaque commemorating RIBA's presence
from 1887 - 1909

Funky chair in the reception area

Stairs leading up to the Lecture Room and Library

Corridor with toilets on the side

The toilets are built almost entirely
out of Swarovski crystal!

Mannequin just outside the restaurant

The cavernous main dining room

Having had a very strong impression of the décor, it was time to refocus and concentrate on the food and service. Would this restaurant live up to its newly upgraded Michelin status, or would it be just another watered-down celebrity outpost? Would the dishes, claiming to be as adventurous and imaginative as in Gagnaire's 3-starred Paris flagship, actually work as a whole, or would it be a case of too many cooks spoiling the broth? These were the main questions that I hoped to answer as I ordered the full tasting menu, which is usually the best representation of the kitchen's capabilities.

A impressive array of canapés (or feuilletés as they call it here) soon arrived at my table. It reminded me somewhat of my experience at Silvio Nickol in Vienna. I will go into each item in detail.

Feuilleté 1: sauerkraut foam with bits of Morteau sausage and potato. I was advised to eat this first as it was the only warm item. This was very tasty and comforting; I'm not sure why it was called a 'foam' when it was more like a rich cream soup, but that didn't really matter. The tiny chewy bits offered a nice contrast in texture within the smoothness and velvetiness of the soup.

Feuilleté 2: parmesan sablé. These were incredibly delicate, crisp, and moreish. I was reminded of those little egg biscuits (with exactly the same shape) sold in small packets in local grocery shops back home, which were my favourite snack as a child.

Feuilleté 3: a trio consisting of spinach financier with Stichelton (a traditional English blue cheese made of unpasteurised milk) cream, shaped like a macaron; seabass sashimi wrapped in fresh kelp; goat cheese parfait. The cheesy morsels were extremely overpowering in flavours and aromas (I couldn't detect any flavours in the spinach sponge layers, for example), and a little too heavy for starters for my taste. The seabass sashimi was a welcome relief - fresh, clean-tasting, with a nice firm bite. It had been marinated in a sourish substance (most likely rice vinegar) and the unmistakeable hint of shiso (perilla leaf) was as delightful as it was refreshing.

Feuilleté 4: cumin crackers and artichoke cream with olive oil and coffee powder. This was the most sophisticated of the starters and also my favourite. The characteristic scent of cumin on feather-light crisps, paired with a sweet artichoke cream dip made even richer in flavour and texture by the use of olive oil, and ending on a subtly bitter note with a sprinkling of coffee powder, was an absolutely lethal combination.

Bread and butter: just two types of bread, white and brown, served with two types of butter, natural unsalted butter and seaweed butter. I particularly loved the latter for its savoury flavours (it's that indescribably complex 'umami') and little chewy bits, but the perfectly smooth and rich unsalted version was really good too.

It was around this time that my server explained to me that full menu details would be found in the small folder at the far end of my table, and that he would answer any further questions on the dishes if necessary. This reminded me of the service style at Steirereck in Vienna. Sketch's menu does list the main components of each dish, which is good considering the typical complexity of Gagnaire's style, but, unlike Steirereck, gives no further details regarding cooking methods or provenance of more unusual ingredients. (In any case, the same information can be found on Sketch's website.) Personally, I'd have liked a little more engagement and proactiveness in service. At some of the best restaurants I've experienced, dishes are often introduced with great pride, complete with secondary ingredients / garnishes not always listed on the menu, cooking methods and flavour profile. Admittedly it is always difficult to please everyone in such matters; perhaps there are diners who do dislike lengthy introductions to each dish and just want to eat.

First course: diced foie gras paté, Nyons olives, olive oil, olive powder and olive jelly, watermelon and mirin, rose petal and mint sprinkling, red pepper coulis.

Nyons olives: named after the town in southern France around which they are grown, this highly localised cultivar is probably the best known French olive worldwide. It is also known as the Tanche olive or the black pearl (perle noire) of Provence. The mature fruit is violet black in colour, and is equally suited for table use and for extraction of oil (which, by the way, enjoys the unique status amongst olive oils of an appellation, granted by the French government in 1994).

This first course was a prime example of why I would prefer to have my server explain a dish and its conception instead of relying on a scanty information card, because I simply didn't understand how it was put together. To be sure, the quality of individual components was never in doubt. The cured olives and their derivatives were particularly outstanding. However, being used disproportionately to the other components resulted in such an overwhelming salty bitterness that when taken together I almost couldn't taste the foie gras, and the mint garnish and pepper coulis simply faded into oblivion, leaving behind only a very faint hint of spiciness. The sweet and juicy watermelon cubes marinated with mirin were a welcome respite but there were too few of them. On the whole, I felt that this dish was heavily imbalanced in terms of flavour and lacked a proper focus - or should I say, the focus was on the wrong ingredient, however excellent it might have been.

Second course: sea bream marinated in konbu (Japanese kelp), brown shrimps, buckwheat pancake, mange tout, oyster leaves, artichoke and turnip cream.

This was a better dish, though not without its problems. The taste of the raw sea bream was unusually fishy, presumably because of the marination with seaweed (I was initially worried that it might not be as fresh as it should have been, but my stomach was perfectly fine after the meal, so no complaints). Perhaps this fishy taste was intentional; it blended perfectly with the oyster leaf garnish, which, as its name suggests, really tasted like raw oysters! The shrimp and mange tout toppings were also appropriate, if not particularly outstanding. Below the slithers of fish was a thin buckwheat pancake which would have been excellent with its mild nutty flavour if not for the fact that it had become a little soggy from the moisture in the fish. The one surprise component and highlight of this dish (which was not even on the original menu description and which I had to clarify with my server) was a small dollop of artichoke and turnip cream which I uncovered below the pancake - sweet, smooth and rich in texture, it was the perfect foil for the predominantly savoury flavours on this plate.

Third course: roast hand-dived Scottish scallops, baked ricotta, artichoke purée with summer truffle, pickled artichokes, Paris (button) mushroom consommé with tapioca and shaved raw mushrooms.

This was a very good dish. The scallops were cooked to tender and juicy perfection, and their natural sweetness was complemented as well as given a further touch of richness by the baked ricotta and artichoke purée. The mushroom and truffle components of this dish gave it the most intoxicating aromas and a full-bodied, earthy overall flavour, while the tiny tapioca balls within the consommé contributed a delightfully chewy texture. The only minor part of this dish I didn't understand was the use of pickled artichokes. Their acidity stuck out like a sore thumb, and I think it'd have been perfectly fine to have them simply poached and preserving their natural sweet flavour.

Fourth course: lightly-cooked blue lobster, pickled girolles, aged Gruyère, traditional bisque.

Blue lobster: there are two possibilities for this crustacean - either a 1-in-2 million blue-shelled occurence due to a genetic mutation in the lobster itself (no harm to humans though, and the flesh turns a normal red anyway when cooked), or a common blue-shelled acquarium crayfish that often goes by the same name. Considering the extreme rarity and protected status of a real blue lobster, I am inclined to believe that it was the latter which was being served here.

This was probably the best savoury course of the tasting menu. The lobster slices were juicy, sweet and succulent, and the bisque that was poured over it was both aromatic and  concentrated in flavour. I was a little concerned that the grated mature Gruyère cheese on the side could overpower the rest of the dish with its characteristically intense smell and taste, but in fact it was a very good match for the bisque and helped to enhance the dish's overall impact. Again, the pickled girolles were the only thing I didn't understand; they would have been perfect for this dish with their strong aroma and naturally earthy flavour, but the pickling produced a sharp taste that was more distracting than it was refreshing (presumably, it had been done to balance the richness of the other components on the plate).

Fifth course: Challans duck fillet with red port sauce and Sarawak black pepper, marmalade of red cabbage and quetsch (plum) with diced red cabbage and onion.

A solid dish with no apparent quirks. The duck was very well cooked and remained moist and tender throughout the rather thick portion. The port sauce with hints of cinnamon and cloves, and a sprinkling of black pepper, was delicious and complemented the naturally strong-tasting meat very well. On the side, a sourish marmalade with finely chopped vegetables mixed in was a refreshing balance to the meat, and also contributed a nice crunchy bite. Judicious use of red onions (both in the marmalade as well as fresh slices) gently enhanced the overall aromas of the dish without overpowering its main focus.

Dessert: Pierre Gagnaire's Grand Dessert - a combination of five small treats, which I was advised by my server to eat in a particular order. There was a real sense of progression of flavours in this little journey, which I will now describe in greater detail.

First: alternating layers of marzipan, lemon cream, macaron biscuit and kirsch parfait coated in white chocolate, topped with a strip of candied angelica, and surrounded by dollops of marzipan in a pretty star-shaped bowl. This was very refreshing, with the acidity of the lemon cream balancing the sweetness of the other parts very well. The strongly-flavoured kirsch parfait and marzipan also imparted a real body and character to this delicious morsel. The variety of textures was also quite impressive - from the chewy and grainy marzipan, to the smooth and light lemon cream, to the crisp and fluffy macaron biscuit, and the rich velvety parfait encased in a thin layer of crunchy white chocolate.

Second: Strawberry sorbet with eau de vie, vanilla infused milk, strawberry wurtz, pistachio crumble. This was very fruity and pleasant. An incredibly light strawberry sorbet was nestled in a pool of equally delicate strawberry-flavoured avocado cream (wurtz is a kind of mini avocado). The base was a wonderfully rich and velvety vanilla milk custard. To top it off, strawberry eau de vie was poured over giving the dessert an even richer flavour, and sprinklings of pistachio crumble imparted a nice crunch in the texture.

Third: Bailey's cream, mint mousse, coffee jelly, yoghurt sorbet. A sort of transition from dainty, fruity desserts into more substantial territory, the intense Bailey's cream and relatively generous amount of coffee jelly (not just the topping but also hidden at the bottom) were perfect partners for each other. These were aptly balanced by an extremely refreshing mint mousse and yoghurt sorbet. A really nice palate cleanser, yet with strong hints of what was to come.

Fourth: Candied fennel with star anise, bitter almond ice cream, celery, fennel compote. This was my favourite of the five treats. The perfect pairing of subtle fennel and anise aromas in a sugared disc set the stage for an ice cream that was rich, full-bodied and not cloyingly sweet. Bits of chopped almonds on top provided a delightful bite in the texture, while shreds of celery were like a breath of fresh air amidst this indulgence. A further surprise was to be found below the ice-cream: a smooth, sweet-sour layer of fennel compote ended the dessert on the same fragrant and invigorating note on which it had started.

Fifth dessert: liquorice panna cotta, chocolate ganache, Guanaja chocolate ice cream, warm chocolate sauce. Fittingly the most substantial of the treats, the different versions of chocolate were excellent, and the warm chocolate sauce was both comforting and an appealing contrast in temperature to the rest of the dessert. It was a shame that I didn't like the panna cotta; the strangely medicinal flavour of liquorice must be a very personal and acquired taste. Thankfully, it was sat on a rich chocolate biscuit with a layer of caramel in between, so that helped somewhat to alleviate the extremely bitter aftertaste of the liquorice.

Petit fours: basil and lemon tartlette, apricot and peach raviolina with poppy jelly, marzipan and lavender flower in the first picture; plum and red port marmalade with soft lemon meringue in the second. The tartlette was the best, with a good balance of sweetness and acidity and scented with the delightful aromas of basil throughout - simple and effective. The raviolina was pleasant enough; I particularly liked the jelly layer which had a great nutty flavour and a firm chewy texture. The marzipan was surprisingly smooth and not too sweet. However, the flower's scent was rather weak, perhaps overwhelmed by the complexity and characteristic flavours of the other components on the tiny biscuit base. The marmalade with meringue in a spoon was strangely bland with just a touch of generic sourness; this was the most indistinctive.

The way the restaurant presents the bill is rather unique, though being a book lover I can't say I agree with its approach. My heart ached not at the bill, but at the hollowed-out chunk of what otherwise seemed to be a perfectly acceptable read. At the risk of sounding moralistic I will say that this is not the way to treat books even if one got them at a throw-out sale.

By the way, as I learnt only when I got the bill, tap water isn't free here - this is the first Michelin-starred restaurant I've visited so far to charge for it, and I'm really not sure that the quality of London's tap water justifies that.

More pictures of the building as I was leaving:

The adjoining dining room within the restaurant

The Glade, a place for afternoon tea, designed in the
style of an enchanted fairy tale forest, with vintage
rattan furniture from the south of France

Mouthwatering pastries on offer

The Gallery, a colourful gastro-brasserie, conceived by
Turner Prize-winning artist Martin Creed; the floor,
every single wall and piece of furniture are all
one-of-a-kind if you look carefully

Space Age toilets with the trendy East Bar within the dome

Egg-shaped toilet cubicles with a colourful skylight

The Parlour, another tea room just by the entrance to Sketch

Summary notes: very eclectic cooking with a seeming penchant for Japanese inspirations; occasionally hit-and-miss with certain elements within a dish disrupting the harmony of flavours on the plate (but perhaps that was intentional?). Apparently the restaurant had been a bit of a left-field choice for an upgrade amongst the Michelin inspectors, and I can totally understand why. Regarding service, front-of-house was excellent (almost a tad too zealous I thought), especially David and his lady colleague at the reception area. They both welcomed me very warmly and offered to pose for photographs after the meal; David also took me on a brief tour of the building, and thinking I was on a business trip, offered (posh!) recommendations on where else to go for food and drink in the city. My server for lunch, a young French lad, was professional if a little distant; he did answer all my questions on the food patiently, and promptly obliged when I asked for a written description of the diverse canapés and petit fours for my records. However, his introductions to the dishes were rather brief and formulaic (presumably because the printed menu was supposed to have done most of his work) and also no regular feedback was sought when he collected the plates, so it would have felt awkward to offer an opinion on certain things that didn't quite work for me. 

Ambience aside, I wasn't completely convinced that this experience was worth the newly minted 2 stars, but with more focus in the food (the balance between tradition and individuality feels a little tenuous at the moment) and attention to minor details in service, this restaurant will be capable of greater things in the long term.