Open Mon—Fri midday—3pm, Sat—Sun midday—3.30pm; and Mon—Sat 6.30pm—late
Tucked away next to the Royal Marsden hospital just off the Fulham Road, this French brasserie offers discreet dining of an old fashioned, distinguished kind. Resplendent in clotted cream and blue, there’s a sizeable covered terrace out in front. We were greeted with a ‘bonjour’ at the door by the maître d’ and swiftly proffered menus by a head waiter in a dinner jacket. There were navy drapes over the windows, white tablecloths and a brisk, bottle-laden bar. It’s about as different from a Shoreditch-style restaurant, with distressed walls and tattoo-laden staff, as you can imagine.
They don’t insist on it, but it feels like gentlemen should be wearing jackets and in fact, most of the gentlemen were. The appearance of the clientele suggested that the neighbours support the restaurant: we spotted an older couple who looked as though they knew the menu by heart and had been coming here for years, and a couple of businessmen were in, though it seemed the business had long been completed. There’s a good chance you’ll get to know your fellow diners as the tables for two are a bit tightly packed. A very tanned man with slicked back hair and loafers slid in next to us, along with his seductively perfumed and vampish lover. It’s for moments like this that I love Chelsea.
‘You can’t go wrong with soup’, Ed, my dining companion, told me. His delicate, creamy, asparagus soup (£6.90) proved him right. I’d been advised that the seafood was good, so opted for the grilled Dublin bay prawns (£19.50). A riot of them turned up sliced down the middle, all rosy on a white plate. Beautifully sweet, I sucked the juices off my fingers before the finger bowl could rob me of them. Half bottles of good wine arrived; we liked that we had that choice and the list is a dream if you know your grapes.
Grilled dover sole (£38) had been skilfully deboned and was dressed with a criss cross from the grill. Internet descriptions of the fish range from ‘mild’ to ‘delicate’ and I have to agree; flavour-wise there wasn’t much going on, but it was expertly cooked. £38 though? Not worth it. The accompanying spinach was generous and dense. The spuds, however, looked and tasted like they’d come from a can.
Ed’s peppered steak (£29.50) was good enough, a little pinker than medium perhaps but decently spiced. Frites were fine. We dodged anything sweet for the cheese plate, which included a fabulously salty roquefort and a warm and funky brie (£8.50).
Garnier is the French brasserie by which all others should be judged and Le Colombier is its sister restaurant. Definitely not the ugly sister and certainly not unrefined, but perhaps the underachiever of the two, Le Colombier is the kind of posh restaurant I remember being told to behave in as a child. If you fancy reliving that experience and you’ve got the budget, it’s worth a visit.
