In an intriguing turn of events, he has decided to open a series of pubs, serving good, wholesome British pub-grub at very reasonable prices. So, is he taking on the lucrative J.D.Wetherspoons market for cash, or does he actually have something to add to this vastly over-crowded pub market? If my visit to the Narrow is anything to go by, it’s a bit of both, really.

Jamie Oliver recently stuck his neck out in an effort to revive school dinners to something actually nearly edible. All credit to him. When I first heard of Ramsay’s attempt at opening pubs, I figured Ramsay was merely responding to his peer’s valiant efforts: Restoring the once-proud history of good pub-food to some of its former glory.

With some success, I must say. We decided to head to the Narrow as a bit of an experiment: I had recently acquired the UK Michelin guide, and the Narrow was down as one of the ‘Bib Gourmand’ cheap eat experiences. Booking a table a few days in advance proved effortless, and I was assured there was ‘plenty of options for vegetarians, too’. Awesome.

Arriving at the place, I was initially struck by how similar this was to, well, a pub. The front room is a simple drinking establishment, with the patio (with a fantastic view of the city and the Thames river) and the back room being the restaurant.

The menu was simple and predictable (this is pub food, after all), but I was particularly impressed with the prices. With starters ranging from £5-£8 and main courses clocking in at around £10 (with a £16 steak taking the ‘most expensive meal’ prize), it’s obvious that Ramsay here is chasing after the lower end of the market.

Wine and beer

What sets the Narrow apart from any other independently owned gastro-pub, however, was its rather phenomenal wine list. Around 50 wines and beers were available, and we were chomping at the bit for a lovely Pouilly-Fuiss.

First off, however, we were intrigued by the Innis & Gunn Oak Aged Beer, which turned out to be one of the better new beers I’ve tried in recent times. Quite strong (6.6% ABV), but completely lacking in bitterness without becoming too sweet, this was truly a discovery worth repeating. In fact, we ended up staying with the I&G for the rest of the evening, instead of switching to wine.

The food

The food at The Narrow was good. I had a Cream of Mushroom soup followed by a Cumberland Sausage and Mash, and both were rather excellent. Which isn’t to say that I haven’t had better: The Harcourt Arms and the Tempest in Marylebone both serve up more creative versions of bangers and mash, and I can make a comparable round of Mushroom soup and sausages and mashed potatoes in my own kitchen.

Which isn’t to say that the food is bad.

In fact, it does exactly what it says on the tin: Good, traditional dishes, cooked well, spiced well, and well presented. Exactly what you expect for the extremely competitive price, in fact.

The only thing is, well, it leaves me wondering why Ramsay is involved – the man is a legend among men, one of the finest chefs the UK has seen in a rather long time (not to mention a rather entertaining, if gutter-mouthed TV personality). I fail to understand why he feels the need to attach himself to a project that would have worked perfectly fine without

Then again, we did choose to go to the Narrow over any of the other gastro-pubs I know in London, and it was largely because of Ramsay’s affiliation, so I suppose the marketing strategy must be working, somehow

The verdict

I’m not sure if I should be disappointed or not. Instead of re-inventing and improving on the dishes available, Ramsay’s pub-grub-haven seems to have consigned itself to the fact that the wheel has been invented, and that there’s nothing more they can do.

The location of The Narrow is fabulous – it may be worth going during lunch-time rather than at night, so the full view of the river can be enjoyed – the wine list is rather spectacular, and the prices are highly affordable. It’s got an approachable, friendly atmosphere, and while the service is a bit whimsical, it’s a pretty good experience overall.

If you want to be surprised, the Narrow isn’t for you, but if you’re looking for a respectable, affordable where you can bring your in-laws without worry, you’ve found your place.

So, will I come back? Probably, but out of convenience rather than out of a heart-felt admiration: The Narrow is a £10 cab-fare from my house.

Sure, it does the trick, but its location means that unless you’re in the East London area anyway, you may as well go to one of your local gastro-pubs, for a virtually identical experience at a similar price, without lining the pockets of UK’s numero uno television chef.

Despite the tasteless anti-teutonic sentiments (I can get away with it, I’m part German), the place is pretty awesome: You sit on long, no-frills tables in Oktoberfest style, you’ve got a beer list the length of your arm (although if you’re really up for trying a lot of tasty beers, I’d recommend The Lowlander in Drury Lane, less than 4 minutes walk away from Belgo, instead), and a simple, yet effective menu.

I’ve been at Belgo about ten times since. The frequency of my visits is a testament more to its simple yet effective service and its vicinity to my office rather than the tastiness of its food, but to be honest, you can’t go wrong with Belgo either. Half a kilo of mussles with chips and a pint of beer sets you back six quid fifty, which is about as good as a simple shellfish lunch goes in this part of town.

I would wax lyrical about the food if it hadn’t been so damn simple: Take mussles, steam with spices, serve chips with plenty of mayonnaise, pour beer in glass – but I keep going back for the atmosphere – there’s always lively discussions going on everywhere.

Service is generally quick, which is great for lunch-o-clock feeding frenzies, and there’s something to be said for waiters with thick polish accents dressed as 1600’s Belgian monks.

Belgo is a mightily confused mixed metaphor, but I can’t find a single good reason not to recommend people to bounce over for lunch – so hereby, my warmest recommendation in the ‘cheap and cheerful’ category.

I was inclined to believe my friend, too, when we got to the place on a nice summery day and we found a 40-man-long queue for the take-away window – and not just clueless tourists either, the queue was mostly made up of locals… Never a bad sign, I figured, and gave it a whirl.

Not being much of a fish lover, I went along out of the politeness of my heart, but I was quickly converted – There are only so many ways you can prepare big greasy potato chips and no-frills fish in a thick layer of crispy batter, but the Rock and Sole Plaice make some mighty fine chow – based on my sample size of 5 portions of fish and chips in my life, RSP are definitely the best chippy in all of the land.

I must be a special kind of sadist, too, because I dragged my vegetarian girlfriend along to RSP (why the hell would you put a vegetarian through a meal at a fish and chip shop?) and apparently the grilled cheese thing they do for vegetarians is tolerable too…

Finally, they sell some mighty tasty Turkish (?) beer. What are you waiting for? Go on, it’s well worth the experience.

Sure, Dover has its own share of attraction – Dover Castle being one of the obvious ones – but we figured we’d try and see what else the place has to offer. Based on a very warm recommendation from the guest house where we were staying (East Lee in Dover town centre – which was great in itself), we set course for the interestingly-named The Restaurant, part of the Wallett’s Court country house, restaurant and spa in St. Margaret’s-at-Cliffe, just outside of Dover.

From the second we arrived at Wallett’s Court, it became clear that it was, in fact, a place of good old-fashioned silver service. We were ushered into a gorgeous sitting room, where we were asked to pick our meals from a small, but interesting menu. Wallett’s Court’s decision to only barely communicate with the patrons in the actual dining room was a little peculiar, but it did create a very intimate, if somewhat stuffy, atmosphere.

My menu consisted of a gloriously powerful griddled breast of pigeon served with deep-fried rhubarb and Madeira sauce. The pigeon is probably some of the most perfectly prepared bird I have ever eaten – if I hadn’t know what I was tucking into, based on the looks alone, I’d have sworn it was a specially prepared calves’ liver of some sort. Perfectly delicious. The rhubarb was less successful, as it was completely saturated with fat – not something I’m particularly fond of – but the dish overall was very tasty indeed.

Along with the meal, we had a bottle of Lebanese white wine which was so incredibly dry that I thought it had turned into vinegar at first. When put in relation with the meal, however, its flavours came to full strength: The acidity of the wine made the Flaneuse’s soup beautifully sweet in comparison. It’s very rare to find a white which goes so well with the strong flavours of the rest of my meal, too, so that was an unexpected success.

The main dish was a time-and-space-bendingly phenomenal fillet of Miller’s thirty day matured Aberdeen Angus with blue cheese butter, creamed leek and dauphinoise potato. This dish appeared to be all about the presentation at first, but I have to honestly admit my first impression was faulthy: This may very well have been some of the best steak I’ve ever had in my life. Perfectly cooked to a slightly-under-medium-rare, spiced perfectly, and tender as anything. My deepest compliments to the chef.

Despite the absolutely stellar main course, and a rather delicious and original dessert (a trio of sorbets: apple with cinnamon & Bombay Sapphire, peach & white rum, pear & almond liqueur), I believe I decided quite early on that Wallett’s court falls firmly in the ‘Okay, I’ve done that now, I never have to do it again’ category. Food-wise, I have no complaints (beyond the rhubarb incident, but that may be a subjective preference rather than anythign else), the wine was great, the service was impeccable, the music selection was phenomenal (a series of obscure and less obscure covers of famous songs, including some Johnny Cash classics) and both the food and the dining / sitting room were traditionally comfortably laid out.

My main complaint of the place is that it appears completely devoid of any genuine character – Good food, yes, but the whole atmosphere appeared to be devoid of people genuinely enjoying food. Perhaps this is a side-effect of being inside a spa, but what’s the point of dishing up world-class dishes if people aren’t going to enjoy it? Perhaps playing the music a little bit more loudly would have helped, or maybe it was just the other patrons that seemed to quietly pick away at their food, rather than appreciating what they had on their plates what got to me… While the food obviously can’t be compared, I’ve been in Wetherspoons pubs where the eating experience has been more enjoyable. Hardly much of a recommendation, when the final bill at Wallett’s court comes to £140 for two, including a bottle of wine…

Our recommendation? Only go if you bring along enough people to take over one of the bigger tables of the dining room, so you can create your own party. As a two-people-deeply-in-love-chatting-about-the-wellbeing-of-the-world’s-economy-and-democratic-progress, the venue just didn’t work. A shame, because the food was truly inspired.

The Morgan Arms is one such restaurant which gets consistently good reviews, and we decided we’d go and find out if it was worthy of its praise. We ended up at the Morgan on a quiet Wednesday night, where the ever-changing menu keeps even the frequent Morgan-ites on their toes.

While I’d love to say that the Morgan Arms was a hidden gem in the middle of nowhere, it wouldn’t be entirely accurate: Of course, it is, in fact, right on the fringe of nowhere, about a 10-minute walk from Mile End, but it’s by no means obscure: its popularity is both evident and well-deserved.

The Morgan is a spaceous, warm and cozy pub with an open-plan dining room towards the end, creating a cozy, upbeat, lazy after-work atmosphere where locals and the ‘ooh-let’s-go-to-the-Morgan’ brigade can sip a few quiet drinks or enjoy a lovely meal. The closeness of the bar area and the food area means that you avoid the ’ssssh, quiet, this is a restaurant’ feel you get in some places. No doubt, this arrangement is far better now that the smoking ban is in plan in UK establishments, too.

The chefs did a great job on our menu for the evening: My starter was a classic basil-and-tomato-and-mozzarella salad which was so brain-meltingly lovely that I found myself wishing it could be my main meal. After that came a mighty fine steak: Perfectly cooked, of course, but more importantly, it was garnished and prepared with a collection of spices that was nothing short of heavenly.

My impression of the food at the Morgan – consistent with comments I’ve heard others come up with about this place – is that the head chef is basically just a guy who loves his food to be traditional, but served with gusto and spirit by the bucketload.

We were so happy with the food, in fact, we ordered a round of beers for the kitchen, and the grins of the chefs as they tucked into their pints of Guinness were unmistakeable: Their appreciation was as great as ours.

We paid around £60 for the both of us – including a lovely bottle of wine – for 3 courses and coffe. A little more expensive than Gordon Ramsay’s The Narrow, perhaps, but the better atmosphere means that I wouldn’t hesitate in recommending the Morgan Arms over the Narrow any day of the week.

The restaurant markets itself with ‘modern oriental dining’, which is a pretty good Ronseal approach to an explanation. The wine menu was small but well-chosen, they have a delicious selection of teas, but it’s the food which really sets the place apart.

Dishes you have grown to expect to come swilling in its own fatty juices are instead presented attractively at Haozhan. The dish I tried (which I was embarrassingly unable to pronounce, but it was a ‘number 31’ on the menu) was very, very spicy indeed, but without the Indian food classic of just piling up loads of spices. If there’s any truth that a good chef sets himself apart in the subtlety of his use of spices, then Haozhan’s top wok-stirrer is a genius: Spicy, yes, but with every individual spice perfectly chosen, mixed in, and individually identifiable.

Between the well-known dishes, you’ll find an occasional ‘chef’s special’ which is well worth choosing – Haozhan has a creative, inventive, and downright surprising approach to going for a Chinese.

To me, it seems as if Haozhan is to Chinese restaurants what ‘gastro pubs’ were to the standard-fare pub grub: proof that the cuisine still has life in it, and that it’s too early to give up hope on a whole genre of food.

At £20 per head for 2 courses it ain’t cheap, but if you’re getting a bit jaded with the same-old take-away style Chinese restaurant food, it’s worth giving these guys a shot – it may just be the eye-opener you’ve been waiting for…

Anyway, the long and short of that is that we decided to drive the whole way from Reading to Edinburgh (which, including the return, was a good 840 mile drive). Needless to say, I was as knackered as a stubby-legged marathon runner by the time we made it anywhere near Edinburgh. On the border of West Linton, there was a sign promising us fine food and history and a bastion of scottishness, so we decided to take a well-earned break.

The first place turned us away, since they had their Burns celebrations that night, but they thought there’d might conceivably be some space left at the Gordon Arms, so we figured it’d be a good idea to try and wrestle ourselves in the front door to a table.

Upon arriving at the Gordon Arms, it turned out to be completely dead. The adjacent pub was reasonably lively, but the restaurant only had its waitstaff discussing loudly about whether or not it was fair that they had to read and watch the film of To Kill a Mockingbird.

For a pub/restaurant which proudly shows off its awards on the doors, the restaurant’s menu is surprisingly downbeat and lacklustre – especially if you’re a vegetarian – in which case this review can be summarised into a haiku:

True veggie haggis
Whilst no doubt food of the gods
Shouldn’t come with gristle

The non-veggie option I chose, however, was lacklustre at best as well; the demi-moules were cooked oddly, and were just a tiny little bit more odorous than I would have expected from a restaurant which is only a few stone’s throws from the sea.

Our waitress left the restaurant half-way through our meal, without saying good-bye, never to be seen again, leaving us confused about who, exactly, was meant to be serving us. Even though we had a few questions about the food, the Chef never showed him/herself to come have a chat about our concerns (especially regarding whether the veggie haggis was, in fact, vegetarian), and overall the restaurant was just a huge let-down.

I warmly recommend visiting West Linton, it’s a lovely place, but if you have to visit the Gordon Arms, you may wish to only use its Camra-awarded pub, rather than its distinctly sub-par restaurant.

“Hey, at least the food was cheap”, as the Scots would have said…