by Richard Montague

In a bid to end all harmony, our marriage and possibly even our lives, sometimes my wife and I go for a drive together on our nation’s motorways. I won’t have to tell anyone who has done this recently how deeply unpleasant an experience it can be. That is, apart from the veritable oasis that is the M6 Toll. You cruise from motoring hell into a parallel universe in which motorways are how they should be, practically no lorries and at least two lanes free of traffic at any point. The sun comes out, my favourite songs play from the radio and my wife no longer finds any of my incredibly helpful advice irritating. It is this kind of heaven-like respite that I was searching for when we went to Ma Cuisine on Monday night.

The reason I was feeling like this is two-fold. Firstly, I have had several poor food experiences over the last couple of weeks, most notably a trip to my local supermarket where, despite searching extensively, I could not find a single piece of British fruit. This prompted a bout of internal-monologue Tourette’s, the nature of which, if it could have been heard, would have made grannies faint, children cry and undoubtedly earned me a night in the cells somewhere in West London.

On top of that, this week has been hot. And muggy. Too hot for me. I know it is sacrilege to say this in the UK, where we worship hot weather, but it is never hot for long enough to acclimatise properly so chubby blokes like me just end up uncomfortable most of the time. Anyway, no matter how difficult the weather, or how bad my recent food experiences were, nothing was going to put me off going out and trying more food, especially somewhere that advertises itself as “the home of regional French cuisine”.

The approach from Kew Gardens tube is very pleasant, it has that village feel and the restaurant is really easy to find. Sitting outside provided a lovely refreshing breeze, and, admittedly, it always feels more authentically French if you are sitting outside on the street on a table that is a bit too small amongst the smokers.
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by Richard Montague

Madhur Jaffrey once said, “You think of a curry and your mouth lights up in anticipation”. This is very much the way I feel about curries, therefore every time I go to a Thai restaurant that specialises in using aromatic ingredients, my interest is piqued and I hope that the flavours have been used in an exciting way. Thai food has always been, for me at least, a bit of a treat, a wonderful way of blending subtle, fragrant flavours with the fiery heat of chillies. The general absence of drier spices, such as cumin and coriander seed, make for more delicate, though no less flavoursome dishes which I love, but only when executed well.

When you walk in to Sang Thai, cosseted away in Sheen Road, slightly out of the hustle and bustle of the main street in Richmond, you are greeted in a traditional Thai manner, with a wai, the hands placed together, small bow and cordial welcome. The décor is dominated by elephants, the national symbol of Thailand, but this is tastefully done and – not just because this is my favourite animal — I liked it.

On the table were fresh flowers, crystal wine glasses, engraved with more elephants, and some seriously tasty spicy crackers. The little touches suggested that someone in the restaurant had a fine eye for detail, it only remained to see if this extended to the food.

The menu covers an impressive selection of meat, fish and vegetarian meals, as you would expect, but apart from green and red curries, many of the dishes were specific, you would not generally find a pork dish similar to a fish one as the herbs and spices seem to be matched to the ingredients. For example the only meat matched with the powerful, sour tamarind was duck, while lemongrass was limited to the seafood and chicken, where it was more likely to complement than be overpowered.

The wine list is not extensive, but includes a good selection from across the world, from rounded new world reds to lighter fragrant whites, many of which would match adequately with the Thai flavours.
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by Richard Montague

Expectations are always raised when you know you are going to something that bears the “Gordon” label, whether by favourable reviews, recommendations from friends, or indeed the sustained media onslaught from the world of Ramsay Intellectual Property. So when you are on your way to a restaurant that has already achieved a coveted Michelin star and is the signature venue of the favoured protégé in the Ramsay empire, your anticipation should rightly feel justified.

I have to confess at this point that when my wife and I arrived we were not, in fact, anticipating anything other than an anniversary evening spent in silence due to an unfortunate incident involving an interesting choice of footwear combined with my insistence that we travel on the Tube so we could both have a drink. This considered, it is with great pleasure that we found ourselves enveloped by the charming service that has come to characterise the Ramsay phenomenon.

There was not even the remotest flicker of irritation despite our being 15 minutes late, we could almost be forgiven for thinking that they were delighted with our tardy timekeeping, when the reality is almost certainly the complete opposite. We were guided to our table, gladly accepting an offer of a glass of pink champagne, and, our troubles and irritation but a distant memory, we turned our attention back to enjoying ourselves.

The food itself is described by Jason Atherton as “haute cuisine done in smaller portions” or “modern tapas”. This was always going to please me as I could probably be accused of being a person who, although generally enjoying my ultimate choice of dish, will lament the other dishes that could have been mine. This could be a clever way of describing what non-foodies might term greedy, but I would argue “what is the point of having an interest in gastronomy if you are not passionately driven by the desire to experience many of the options a chef can concoct?”
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