Restaurant Review - The Luxe, Spitalfields

Restaurant Review

The Luxe Spitalfields, 109 Commercial Street, London E1 6BG

Food ** / Service *** / Ambience ****

Great location, amiable unpretentious staff – disappointing food.

“This competition just gets tougher”. How many times have we heard John Torode announce this over the opening chimes of BBC Masterchef? I have a hunch that life at The Luxe is getting tougher.

Being in the bar and restaurant business, I am unusual in the sense that I don’t like to criticise small things when the overall experience is excellent. The waiter may have his tie-knot slightly loose but if the food is good and he’s polite and attentive, I couldn’t give two hoots. Likewise, the service may be a bit on the slow side and the place a little quiet, but if the food is spot on, I’ll leave a happy man. Two and a half years ago I visited Smiths of Smithfield, Torode’s original London project. The experience was good but nothing to make you return with haste.

When the food – let’s face it, the overriding reason you are sat in a restaurant, knife and fork at the ready - is disappointing, then I’m a bit narked off. At The Luxe, disappointment is one of more costly items on the menu.

Valentine’s Day in the restaurant industry is a chance to make some money. There shouldn’t be too much trouble filling tables. Filling coffers is the challenge – ensuring you can persuade those glamorous wives to prise open the wallets of their scrooge-like husbands is more than half the battle. After working all Valentine’s weekend, I took my girlfriend, herself a glamorous other half to bloke with a tight wallet, on a soiree to Spitalfields.

Having spent a little time around Spitalfields (a couple of gigs and the odd restaurant) in the past, I’ve always enjoyed the vibe of the area. Unpretentious but stylish - bit of dirt around the edges. Proper London Guv’nor. The ambience of The Luxe, despite being an immaculately done up building, preserves my out-of-town-but-still-a-London-regular idealism of Shoreditch.

Ordering a bottle of 2009 NZ Sauvignon to accompany us for the evening (I prefer a red but after a recent Paris trip, I have still failed to convert mademoiselle to the rouger berries delight’s) we set about choosing from the well balanced menu. “I could eat every single starter on here and am stuck between three main courses” the loved one exclaimed as we desperately staved off fits of overheating from the blazing radiator behind her and the open-kitchen of 20 hot lamps behind me.

Mrs. Steve settled for salt & pepper squid rings teased with a sweet chilli sauce that had a welcome kick to it. My cured ham and mozzarella salad was light on the mozzarella and heavy on the salad, although a salty stick of black olive toast saved the dish from complete disenchantment. “How is the beef? I haven’t tried that one,” asked the friendly (and for once English) waitress. Nervously laughing I explained it was the ham and mozzarella salad. “Sorry!” she blushed, “the man next to you has ordered the beef!”

The good lady’s main course of halibut with roast tomatoes was reportedly as tasty as it looked, complemented by some unannounced wilted spinach. My smoked haddock with lobster mash and a poached egg was the most uninspiring serving of fish this side of Loch Fyne. The pan had dried the haddock to give the impression it was Sahara farmed and the mash was on the verge of being scientifically frigid. The same wilted spinach was to be found hiding under my desert fish. Glancing behind at a steak waiting for service, I hung my head in a moment of regret.

A perfect sharer of Tiramisu sweetened my opinion slightly, both of us agreeing it was one of the best we’d tasted. The balance between lingering coffee and alcoholic kick married with the textures of the sponge and fresh cream perfectly. Last orders called at half ten signalled we should really finish the wine and head home. Not forgetting to pay the bill. At just over £100 for 2 and a bit courses plus wine, The Luxe won’t break the bank – but it won’t represent value for money either.

I wonder how, being faced with such uninspirational food on Masterchef, Mr Torode would react. Perhaps he has taken his eye off The Luxe after the food press set it up with positive opening weekend reviews. To be a great restaurant, great food needs to be served every night – every night needs to be the Masterchef final. Unfortunately, we could only get tickets to the practice round.

Steve McNeill

Shine like a Michelin Star

In the daytime (and evenings in fact), i moonlight as a bar/restaurant manager. Our place is great - fresh, local food in smart surroundings, open fires, friendly and attentive staff... i stop short of giving you our address. This means that, like a lot of us foodie people, i am a faux-snob when it comes to other eating and drinking establishments. My friends find it hilarious, "oh does this pub have enough character??" they jibe at me when arriving at a watering hole. In fact, it is all a facade! I love eating out. Always have done since i was a kid. I must have been about 8 years old when i went abroad with my parents for the first time to the Algarve. We stayed on the 13th and top floor of an apartment block called Janelas do Mar, a place in which my fear of lifts came sharply into focus (and may even have originated). That's another story. Being self-catered we would eat out every night. It was heaven. I could still do the same now although my excessive vino consumption would have to be curbed. 

Last Summer, my boss and her partner visited Nick Parkinson's (son of Michael, TV interviewer) pub/restaurant in Paley Street, Berkshire called The Royal Oak. They raved about it, "the best chips you'll ever taste". One of the best meals they'd ever had apparently and all they could talk about was the chips. Subsequently i am dispatched to stealthily investigate how they got them so good. I emailed The Royal Oak, ass-licked for a sentence or two and then asked the secret of "the best chips i've ever tasted." They emailed back the same evening... with the recipe. "Thanks for your comments Steve, you're not the only one! Here are the instructions."

In October last year, my boss took myself and our Head Chef over (i drove :( no wine for me). It just so happened that we dined next to Michael Parkinson himself who was having lunch with his son-come-manager. Service was a bit taut if you know what i mean. Not very relaxed. A bit stiff. Waiter didn't engage, waitress was on her second shift (so she told us) and was clearly nervous as hell to be serving the bosses next to us. At the time of eating, The Royal Oak held several titles including a Bib Gourmand. No wonder. The food was terrific. Lasagna of Wild Rabbit & Mushrooms was a stand out starter with dive caught Sole a real gem of a main. 

I have just read this morning that The Royal Oak has been awarded a Michelin star. That's the ultimate accolade really isn't it. I don't frequent restaurants and pubs in the stratosphere but i have dined in a couple. The Royal Oak deserves such an award for truly exceptional food. Each dish is a work of art. Each mouthful a moment to savour. 

The must-have side order of chips were sure as hell tasty. Several efforts on our behalf haven't quite managed to achieve Dominic Chapman's chip nirvana. We might as well give up trying and go back!

www.theroyaloakpaleystreet.com, Paley Street, Berkshire.