[REVIEW] Lucky Seven / Westbourne Park, London
“Unfortunately it felt like they couldn’t wait for us to get out of there…”
We’ve all got at least one - a place you want to go to, but it strays wildly from home or work.
Not on the way to anywhere. Places that have no other discernable reason for you to go to, places that you know there’s something you want to try there, but is such a herculean effort you may as well just stay at home and have a jacket potato.
Well, for us, this has been Lucky Seven in Westbourne Grove
Nestled innocuously, almost anonymously, in a small parade of shops and restaurants in Westbourne Park, you’d be forgiven for missing it. It’s pretty small - inside it only has 6 booths, so in busy periods they operate a booth share policy. Like Wagamama, but way cosier.
Walking in instantly brings a nostalgic diner atmosphere. It feels like a lilliputian small diner in Middle-of-Nowheresville, USA. They even have stick-on black and white lettering boards above the open kitchen. Score! And hip-lite fave PBR is on the menu (as “Blue Ribbon”). Oh wait, the waiter didn’t even know what we’re trying to order.
“Pee Bee Ahhhh?” he murmurs. Something tells us that hasn’t been in stock for a while.
Our Cheeseburger (with American) and Bacon Cheeseburger (with Monterey Jack) came out served open, and uncondimented with veggies on the side, which made the kitchen crime that had been committed all the more blatant.
We don’t think they should have sent a burger out in that sort of state, especially with no attempt to conceal the crime.
First rule of Cheeseburger Club is: you never grill processed cheese.
Second rule of Cheeseburger Club is: YOU NEVER GRILL PROCESSED CHEESE.
It fucking burns it - creating a tough plasticky crust that makes it really sticky and thoroughly unpleasant when it bonds itself to the roof of your mouth. Really not fun.
Saying that, the fairly chunky pre-salted patty was adequately cooked, with a cracking dark-pink medium centre, and the bun was a pretty neat, bouncy brioche. Once we’d added our desired veggies and sauces (the setback of every ‘open’ burger), the result was a relatively decent sandwich, and a good looking one too.
The Bacon Cheese definitely edged it here, with the bacon adding a salty depth to the seasoning that the cheeseburger lacked, and the jack having a better melty texture to it. Go with the jack here, you’ll thank us, seriously.
As for sides - the onion rings fared pretty well, they were chunky and the batter wasn’t greasy, although there was rather too much of it, resulting in a rather doughy middle. The chilli was a real disappointment though, being both bland, cold and having none of its alleged trademark spice. There’s more kick in a bowl of rice pudding. And there were loads of beans in it. Seriously, like way over the regular bean-to-meat ratio. Pretty uncool.
We don’t normally comment much about service unless it’s noticeably good or bad, but at Lucky 7 it’s very odd. We happened to be there at the same time as Nick from Hamburger Me and Jonathan Dale from off the telly so we all teamed up. On reflection, Nick’s order played up to L7’s strengths more than ours.
Anyway, there we were, on a weekday evening and the place isn’t busy. Not only do we appreciate what they’re trying to do, but were very susceptible to more booze. Unfortunately it felt like they couldn’t wait for us to get out of there, and the restaurant was half full the entire time. No upsells. We had to keep asking for fresh beers. Weird.
It was a satisfyingly standard burger. If you happen to be marooned in the deepest, darkest depths of West London then we can quietly recommend it.
- Simon & Rob.
[REVIEW] A Lesson in Perfection at The Ledbury - Notting Hill
Yes, celeriac can be sexy.
Well. The annual Big One.
The Ledbury was the site of my birthday lunch, back in May. The annual epic Michelin blow-out.
The Ledbury was absolutely top of the list after genuinely gushing reviews from all kinds of folks whom I respect enormously, most notably Mark from Wahaca who talked about it without taking a breath for several minutes.
So a table for six was dutifully booked way in advance, and in the final weekend of May we ventured out West to parts of Notting Hill we’d probably not see again for quite some time.
Before we get into any kind of by-the-numbers course dissection (which I think I’ll just let the photographs do, erm, visually), it’s worth pointing out exactly what I feel makes the Ledbury one of the absolute Best Restaurants In London.
Service.
Bonhomie. Banter. Wit. Overwhelming knowledge. A little bit of showing off. All perfectly placed. Deftly timed.
There are very few restaurants that can truly say they’ve got the appropriate level of service absolutely right, but the Ledbury is certainly one of them. The staff somehow manage to be convivial, relaxed and sometimes downright cheeky without straying too far into the uncomfortable over-friendliness and ill-timing that plagues other London restaurants, especially in the ££££ bracket.
And it’s not just the maitre d’ or sommelier who exude this uncanny, natural charm, but every single member of the waiting staff.
All of them. Exceptional.
Texture.
What elevates the Ledbury’s cooking into its very own league is the quite unbelievable variety of texture, both in each individual dish and across the whole menu. It’s an enormously difficult thing to express in words, so if you haven’t already been sold to enough, get down there and eat. Just the simple act of putting each course in your mouth is a highly excitable and complex experience, weird as that may sound.
My mother, in her own inimitable style, referred to the use of ‘grit’ in each course. She meant it in the nicest possible way, and I don’t think any of us could think of a better word for it. It’s layered softness, but with depth. Nope. Not much better. Moving on…
Being a bit daring.
I suppose I’m referring to the wine here. We went for the matched wines at an extra £45 per head. Red with fish. Port halfway through. Mental. A blithe disregard for the Michelin rulebook. But calm, considered, tradition-banishing choices. The kind of choices that exude confidence in each component choice of every course.
And each of the bolder choices were flawlessly explained by the sommelier. What a dude.
So now this review is a bit past its menu relevancy date, I’m not sure what’s still on the Ledbury tasting menu. Our collective highlights were the faux squid risotto, the pomp and theatre surrounding the celeriac. Yes, celeriac can be sexy. And the finest loin of lamb you ever did see.
The trouble now is I feel the Ledbury should be in my life more often, since it’s such a joyous, care-free, but undeniably elegant experience. And what makes it even more tempting is the simple fact that the set menus are an absolute steal.
If it’s on your to-eat list, move it up a few notches to the top and get over there. You will not be disappointed.
Check it:
Full set of photos available on flickr
The Ledbury - Notting Hill Bookings via their website £125 tasting menu including matched wines
