The Sunday Times Magazine - UK (2022-04-17)

LES 2 GARçONS

143b Crouch Hill,

London N8;

020 8347 9834,

les2garconsbistro.com

G

reat French

restaurants are

crowd-pleasers here

in Rosbif-land, an easy

sell. The length of

the country there

are Le Mistrals and

Le Beaujolaises that

have been doing their

own thing for decades,

happily untouched by

influencers, TV-hungry chefs or

gastrotourists, unafraid of

Dubonnet posters, dubious art

and metres of fishnetting. They

just pootle along to the sound

of their own drums, supported

by local fans. I love them.

New ones pop up all the

time too. But it’s unusual to

find a newcomer that seems

as untouched by the past few

decades as Les 2 Garçons.

It is plunged as firmly into

retro aspic as any of the

old-timers, with its mirrors

and blackboards, mismatched

furniture and knowing

twinkle. It hasn’t, though, been

launched by thrusting young

dudes with an eye to the irony,

but by a duo of industry

veterans, neither of whom, I’m

guessing — I hope not rudely

— will ever see 50 again.

It’s a classic bistro with

classic bistro cooking. Just

look at these and sigh: scallops

served in their shells as if it’s

1978 or Deauville or both,

bronzed flesh slurping up a

sauce of champagne, orange

and quantities of butter,

around the shells bitter blades

of braised endive to puncture

the seafood’s opalescent

sweetness. Half a dozen

snails curled up in their

deeply dimpled escargotière,

suspended in quantities of

parsley-garlic butter. Great

baguette too. A thick slab of

smoked haddock — “only faintly

fishy smoky, like Amphitrite’s

knickers” says the pal — with

nutty little new potatoes and

a sauce of grainy mustard,

chives and — yes, you guessed

it — more butter. Confit duck

leg on masses of taut white

beans — coco de Paimpol, I’m

guessing, holding their shape

and creaminess after cooking

— laced through with carrot,

mushrooms and leaves of very

peppery rocket. None of these

is what you’d call Instagram-

ready, presentation is on the

Gallic-slapdash side. But their

beauty is in the eating.

Daily specials are the likes of

vichyssoise, salade composée

or steak tartare “au couteau”

(hand-cut) with frites. Or pear

tarte tatin to share — an

unreconstructed joy of a thing,

all toffeed pastry, the gritty

fondant of cooked pears, the

fragrance of southern France

from sprigs of thyme. It’s the

one dish that yells about the

Garçons’ background. Wine

merchant and former owner

of L’Absinthe in Primrose Hill

Jean-Christophe Slowik and

chef Robert Reid (everywhere

from Michelin-starred

restaurants in Paris, the Côte

d’Azur and Strasbourg to

huge faux brasseries) met in

Marco Pierre White’s 1990s

Knightsbridge swankpot the

Oak Room. This couldn’t be

further away from all that

pomp and posturing, a tiny

room seating only 20, funds

TA B L E TA L K●Marina O'Loughlin

They’ve chalked up a victory

for the classic French bistro

raised via Kickstarter, their

aim to open “a proper French

‘restaurant de quartier’ ”. They’re

both locals, both with kids at

nearby schools; “We want,” they

say, “to create a community

feel.” Given that fellow diners

look like a Hampstead literary-

society outing plus one baby

and an Antoine de Caunes

lookie-likie, I’d say job done.

There’s one daily special I’m

being tight-lipped about on the

basis that they’ve been a little,

ah, euphemistic themselves

about the starring ingredient

— “duck liver” — on a tart with

onion and apple. (I expect, while

it’s still legal, they want to avoid

the fate of Otto’s — another

eccentric beauty — at the hands

of outraged protesters.) Despite

The pals are ecstatic. I’ve never

before heard such noises of

delight issue from either of them

44 • The Sunday Times Magazine