Errr … that ,is, of course, what one finds at the Goring Hotel in London. Is it posh?
Well, yes, and yet posh is not quite the right word. For the Goring strives not to strive for poshterity. It simply is.
You might contrast this with Claridges or the Savoy. Those places strive to be posh. And they are.
With this in mind, you might not expect a restaurant critic like Grace Dent to be thrilled by the luncheon fare at the Goring provided bya a celebrity chef. And your instincts would have some basis. She writes
… that’s the rub with almost all “fancy incoming chef” versus “nosebleedingly expensive hotel” square-offs: they’re usually bloody dull. In fact, when I go to hell – restaurant critics do not enter heaven – my eternity will be to endure an endless tasting menu while trapped in a glass-fronted room adjoining a fancy hotel foyer. My room mates will be moneyed, jetlagged diners who long for a house burger but were fooled into ordering velouté of endive avec doe cheek confit.
And yet, her view of the Goring’s offering at the “Siren” restaurant strikes a different tone
Siren is an open-fronted space, on dry days at least, that gazes out on a quintessential British country-house lawn. The room is filled with beautiful, green, leafy-cushioned chairs, with notes of terracotta, rich browns and ermine blues. Glass lobsters loom from the ceiling while matching sea anenomes perch on the tables.
And the food?
I’m pleased to inform you that hell is certainly not Siren. It is entirely the opposite. Outlaw’s rugged charm is the perfect foil to the Goring’s dainty aloofness. They go together like fish and chips – albeit here that means turbot at £42 a piece and chips that are triple-cooked, skin-on spuds with garlic and rosemary.
Yes, yes. One must budget for this sort of thing. But in my view, the grisly preparatory privations would be well worth it!