Getting the chop in SW3

This article was first published in July 2001

I don't mind admitting it, Marco Pierre White scares me. It is not that he's ever done anything to me. On the contrary, on the few occasions I've met him, he's been the model of courtesy. On the whole, he is cordial with restaurant critics and, although I have not gone shooting with him, he did once ask me to lunch. I sat in fear (well, faint unease) throughout. Imagine supping with Stalin or Genghis Khan; it was not that he packed off his staff to the Gulags or decapitated anyone, but just that there was the sense that such behaviour would not be entirely beyond him.

I don't think I'm alone in my appraisal of his character. As I sat at my table in his latest restaurant, a basement off Knightsbridge, the self-effacingly named 'Parisienne Chophouse Marco Pierre White', I tried to attract the attention of a young waiter. However, he completely failed to see my arm flailing above my head because his attention was fully engaged by a table headed up by the curlicued genius himself. The boss was in the house, and so keen were his staff to make sure that he had as little to complain about as possible, timorous glances were constantly being cast in his direction. While such behaviour is entirely understandable, someone ought to have told the lad that there were other customers in the place. Anyway, very shortly afterwards, an older, braver ma?tre d' dashed to my aid and all was well.

Perhaps it is the incalculable fear that MPW instils in the breasts of his staff that makes them perform so well. All his restaurants are competent and some, like the Parisienne Chophouse, are really very good. The Chophouse is the third incarnation I know of on this site. It used to be the Grill St Quentin, then it was part of the Chez Gerard group and now it has wound up in the MPW portfolio. In both its previous lives, it was a steak-fr?tes operation and, wisely, Mr White has chosen not to tamper with the formula. What he has done is make it one of the best steakhouses you are likely to eat at.

The look is turbo-brasserie: the floor is tiled; the walls are hung with vintage posters that are aggressively French. (One of the posters promotes Vichy water despite being a reminder of the spa town's role as the capital of the pro-Nazi French state set up in the Second World War.) That aside, any visiting Frenchman should have no complaints about the Gallicism of the place - even if you stuck a string of onions around its neck, it couldn't be more French. The menu positively bristles with accents and circumflexes, and both frogs' legs and snails are on offer. It also offers such classics as haddock Monte Carlo - a wonderful dish that I usually only encounter at Mark's Club. However, the real action is to be found in the section headed 'Viandes et grillades' which features escalope of veal Holstein - the prawn cocktail of meat dishes - and four variations of Aberdeen Angus ribeye steak, the most interesting of which was 'au poivre et aux huitres'. It arrived looking exactly like a peppered steak topped with oysters, and was the sort of rich, overpowering dish that one seldom sees in our health-obsessed times.

What is so agreeable about the Parisienne Chophouse is that, although the food is simple - rillettes of duck, asparagus with sauce ravigote, grilled calves' liver with bacon, grilled seabass with b?arnaise - it is done well. It is a clich?, but simple things done well are surprisingly hard to come by. For instance, the potted shrimps ? l'Anglaise came topped with a freshly prepared sauce Marie Rose - a nice addition. The sole grill? with sauce tartare arrived on the bone, which was a bit of a shame. I presume that this was to promote a sense of fuss-free eating, unlike those restaurants where the sole would be presented to you before being whisked away to be boned and plated.

The restaurant is refreshing in another respect in that, with the exception of Marco Pierre White and Alan Yentob, the clientele is not remotely fashionable. The punters seemed to be moderately well-heeled folk who wear the sort of clothes advertised at the back of the more restrained Sunday supplements. Real customers, real food, and what's more, the set lunch is a steal at £9.95 for two courses.

Parisienne Chophouse
3 Yeoman's Row, Knightsbridge, SW3 2AL