Telephone: 020-7359 1932
Address: The Mall, 359 Upper Street, London N1
Rating: 17/20
I like to think that Lola's was named after the Kinks song. It seems to have been around for almost as long, feeding the frenzied shoppers of Islington. In fact, for some time it seemed almost the only place that catered for the gastronomically sentient in the area. That was when Juliet Peston guided the kitchen. However, Juliet pushed off several sittings ago (and can currently be found setting the tempo at those restaurants bearing the name of Alastair Little), since when Lola's became something of a culinary also-ran. That has all changed.
Are you familiar with the name Hywel Jones. No? Never mind. It's not entirely surprising. He's a youngish chap who has been making his way through the kitchens of various major hotels, the last of which was the oddly named Foliage at the Mandarin Oriental on Hyde Park, where he sent some sensational food out into one of the most lacklustre, corporate-trash dining rooms I've ever come across. Jones's cooking was as distinctive, compelling and finely detailed as the room was the opposite of all those qualities. And he won a Michelin star.
Quite why he should quit that well-heeled, protected environment is a mystery. Why he should fetch up at Lola's is an even bigger one. Who knows and cares? Islingtonians, and others, who do care about these things should just be glad, because he is a wonderfully talented cook. In fact, having favourably reviewed Paul Kitching at Juniper two weeks ago and generally celebrated the gifts of Heston Blumenthal for some time, I think we may be seeing the emergence of a new generation of gifted, original chefs. The more I think about it, the more excited I become. But enough of an old man's maunderings.
Gambrinus and I went to Lola's for lunch. We could have eaten two courses for £12.50 or three for £17.50, but we did not, although the choice of celeriac soup, wild mushrooms and Alsace bacon or aubergine and goat's cheese fondant with tomato vinaigrette; followed by roast salmon, buttered cos, braised borlotti beans and horseradish velouté or confit of belly pork, caramelised apples and shallot tarte Tatin were tempting enough. Instead, we ate à la carte, as you'd expect me to do. I got globe artichoke and asparagus "millefeuille", mesclun salad and sauce gribiche, followed by roast rump of Welsh lamb, cannelloni of slow-cooked shoulder and piquillo pepper. Gambrinus got roasted scallops, smoked haddock brandade and marinated mushrooms, and then poached chicken, braised cos lettuce, herb gnocchi, baby leeks and morels. Only I had a pudding - Gambrinus was feeling a bit fatigued - of baked almond macaroons, salad of spring berries and mint ice cream.
This last betrayed too many hours spent in hotel kitchens, and was the only uninspired and uninspiring note in our meal. The rest was top-drawer stuff. The dishes were less ornate than those at Foliage, the flavours gaining in clarity and intensity as a result. The "millefeuille" consisted of thin discs of firm, nutty artichoke interleaved with fat sticks of just-cooked green asparagus. This was fine enough, but the sauce gribiche, a rich, oily magma of chopped, hardboiled egg and cornichons, was a masterstroke. Almost as fine was the manzanilla that I drank with it, thereby resolving the age-old problem of finding a wine to match artichoke and asparagus.
The lamb showed an equally intelligent awareness of the qualities of its parts, and the wit, imagination and craftsmanship of a culinary cabinet maker to mitre them into a dish that was as excellent to eat as to look upon.
As for Gambrinus's choices, the marinated beetroot sharply focused the sweet scallops and creamy smoky brandade of haddock. Jones's skills embrace all parts of cooking, from judicious selection of raw materials to the exact application of the method of cooking them. Poaching Gambrinus's chicken kept it tender and toothsome, but the bird itself had a degree of flavour that harked back to some forgotten farmyard. The lettuce, leeks, gnocchi and morels all chimed in with precise and appropriate notes, which made the dish so satisfying in its entirety.
The food cost all of £55. We spent rather more than that on drink, though how much more I'd rather not say. But it put me in a remarkably cheery frame of mind for the jubilee weekend. Heaven knows, I needed it. A final note: no matter how you look at it, Lola's is an odd space, somewhere between a loft and a garage with a glass roof, with odd bits of statuary made from old knives, spoons and forks apparently stuck at random here and there. It makes a curious setting for such finely wrought food.
· Open All week, lunch 12 noon-2.30pm (Sat 3pm, Sun 3.30pm); dinner 6-11pm (Sun, 7-10pm). Menus: Lunch and pre-theatre dinner (6-7pm) £12.50 for two courses, £17.50
