Chabrot - authentically pleasingly French

James visits Chabrot Bistrot d'Amis to to see if it matches the hype and meets the expectations of two Francophiles.

Context

It was interesting to see the number of commenters suggesting that I’d been negative about Nando’s purely because it wasn’t ‘Michelin-starred’ food. While I, of course, don’t deny the readers of this column their right to think me a misguided fool, the Michelin thing seems a bit of a non-argument. It should be plainly obvious that such comparisons would be moronic – you don’t get in a Fiat Panda and think it crap because it’s not a Porsche; you don’t listen to JLS and write them off because they’re not as good as Bach. These things don’t equate.

Nando’s was bad in its own right, irrespective of any other factors. I wasn’t cross about the lack of free range chicken because I’m a free range evangelist – were I reviewing Chicken Cottage such a thought wouldn’t cross my mind. I was cross because it was odd to gloat about provenance and lack of freezing (what’s wrong with freezing?) but not say a word about animal welfare. The food was poor not because it didn’t come with a smear of pea reduction and a truffle velouté, but because it was totally one-dimensional, and that dimension wasn’t very nice.

Restaurants should only be reviewed in context. In the context of Chabrot, that is a hyper-authentic French bistro (red and white table cloths, wine) in Knightsbridge (Russians, big cars, noise). Jay Rayner, who seems to agree with me on the context front, was a huge fan, as was Chris Pople. I was looking forward to my lunch, and looking forward to comparing Chabrot with other French bistros, not with Le Gavroche or Yo! Sushi.

First impressions

I went with Fiona Beckett, wine columnist for the Guardian and something of a mentor of mine. For us two Francophiles it was indeed remarkably and pleasingly French. Were it not for the distant din of Knightsbridge traffic we could have been in the middle of the Marais and the service, that particular French specialty, was haughty at best and absent at worst. They’d nailed the French thing.

The food

Starters arrived before the wine did – sloppy, though forgivable, so distractingly wonderful was the first of the two dishes. A thwack of soft duck pate with capers and herbs and mellow spicing was just miraculous, as fine a treatment of a duck as you could conceive. Most brilliant was the vast Yorkshire pudding it came with – a giant, crunchy, chestnut puff of batter, and an inspired alternative to boring old toast.

Alas, things rather nose-dived after that. Charcuterie was so-so but difficult to get lit up by. The thing about cold, cured meat is that it has to be either blindingly brilliant or eaten idly with bread and salad and cheese and rosé. This was neither.

The meat plat du jour was a skirt steak that fell short. At a strict girl’s school this skirt would have been sent home to change. Though very well cooked, it tasted of the grill, not of the meat. By the same token, the chips tasted of oil, not spud – crunchy without and fluffy within but, unless dunked in mustard, not very pleasant.

Fiona’s lamb chops were pink and perky, but the ratatouille seemed more suited to Tupperware and beachwear, not a restaurant, served stone cold as it was.

We had some excellent cheeses while finishing the bottle of chilled Chinon that I, inexpert wino as I am, thought was good but Fiona less so. Black cherry jam with the fromage was a lovely touch.

Jay Rayner had warned readers about the puddings and that warning would have been better heeded. The chocolate pudding reminded me of eating cake mix out of the bowl as a child, not in a good way. It was cloying and lifeless, the sunken and redundant sesame seeds on top a sign that the pud had been sitting around for a day or two.

My verdict

So, in the context of a little bistro tucked down a charming back street in Paris, that charges 15 euros for a lunchtime formule, Chabrot is really excellent, a great find and an utter bargain. Unfortunately, it’s in Knightsbridge and our bill came to £127.69 including service – pocket change for an oligarch, but quite an investment for the rest of us. I recommend you take your money elsewhere.  

Worth the hype?: Nope. For gutsy French food at roughly the same price, trot down Brompton Road to Racine.

What do you think?

Let us know your verdict on Chabrot using the comments box below!

Note: Photo taken from the restaurant's own website