Sixty years of staying power

MON PLAISIR is 60 years old this year. The owners describe it as London's oldest French restaurant and I can't think of a reason or any other establishment that would entirely refute that claim. L'Escargot (originally L'Escargot Bienvenu) in Greek Street is probably older, but the cooking offered there these days is what tends to be described as modern British.

Longevity in itself is not necessarily a virtue; it is the fact that only two families have owned Mon Plaisir - where apparently Charles de Gaulle dined in 1942 - which is rare and noteworthy.

The Viala brothers established Mon Plaisir in the Forties as a typical French bistro seating about 30 customers. It ably satisfied the yearnings of the Francophile British who had travelled to discover a world beyond the stodgy and pompous food of most indigenous catering. Alain Lhermitte bought the business in 1972 and has slowly expanded the premises to the 100-seater space spread through several rooms and levels that exists now.

The original decor, with kitsch memorabilia, gastronomic maps of France and posters for drinks such as Dubonnet, survives in updated form and seamlessly links the original front room to the rest.

A new chef has arrived in the shape of Thierry Laborde who has trained with Alain Ducasse and, in London, worked at Le Gavroche. His own creations live alongside the list of staples and classics without which Mon Plaisir would lose its soul and its raison d'étre.

Thus the menu divides into various sections: A la carte, Les Classiques-Spècialitès du Chef, Menu Parisien (evenings only) and a Pre- Theatre Menu at £ 15.95 requiring tables to be vacated by 8pm. I ate dinner with four others, the better to get to grips with so many options, although roaming between menus is not frowned upon.

From the list of classics, the cassolette d'escargots provided a dozen plump snails lolling in garlic butter in a dimpled glazed earthenware dish which was exactly what was expected and wanted. The chap who chose steak tartare with a side order of pommes allumettes was also completely contented with his lot, but had to guard the crisp, golden, perfect chips from others at the table.

Coq au vin, that tricky dish to prepare successfully, was notably well done, although its presentation with boiled potatoes and green beans placed on top of the chicken in the casserole was the opposite of alluring.

Petits pois were served swimming in heavy cream when what had been anticipated was peas cooked with lardons, spring onions and lettuce with the natural juices that seep from the vegetables - in other words petits pois a la Franćaise.

The section where Laborde's skills are given free reign yielded an excellent téte et langue de veau tiëde, sauce Gribiche.

It is translated on the menu coyly as warm traditional French veal terrine served with a gribiche sauce, which avoids mentioning head and tongue and fails to convey the vinaigrette with chopped hardboiled egg, gherkins and capers which constitutes gribiche, but it is well worth ordering.

The fact that it is autumn rather than spring may be the explanation for a dull navarin Printanier a la Provencale. Fricassèe suggests to me a creamy sauce, but fricassèe de volaille came with gnocchi which resembled the sort you squeeze from a vacuum pack, and some confit tomatoes - an odd assembly.