Old father Thames and I have been getting along rather well of late.

The few times I’ve had reason to frequent London’s main vein, fortune has graced me its worth. Last time I was here, on Butler’s Wharf that is, a £20 note haphazardly wrapped itself around my shoe. The time before that, I bumped into the singer of the Kinks, insouciantly playing river-side guitar - as if it were normal for an international rock star to be doing that sort of thing. Now again, in continuation of my good chance, we walk the Shad Thames promenade, and tonight, we’re eating at Le Pont de la Tour.

The transition from the biting chill to the comparably temperate and softly-lit xanadu of Le Pont’s foyer threw me off kilter. Blurry-eyed and still slightly disheveled, we thawed our way to the to the bar. The atmosphere was odd to begin with, like some Kafka-esque phantasmagoria. Light piano-played jazz covers, faceless suits, a postcard vista beyond the windows and an eerie one-manned bar. We sat. And then, in a snap of lucidity: “Cocktail sir?” My subsequent exhalation was long and restorative.

The reassuringly lengthy preparation time – good things come… – allowed me time to convince myself that I wasn’t in the bar scene of the Shining and that everything, thus far, was going rather mellifluously. The Bramble (my cocktail) was a product of deft mixology. The sensory scales of strength vs. subtlety were balanced. Frankly, I could have sluiced this nectar all the way to Jaundice. 

Through fear of sounding a little like I’m shoe-horning some pigeon-existentialist dross into a restaurant review, I’ll get back to the point. 

As the Jewel in the D & D restaurant group’s portfolio – other notables include Le Coq d’Argent and Launceston Place – Le Pont has always acted as something of a watermark with which D & D and – whether they'll admit it or not – other fine-dining consortiums in London have set their standards to. In recent years though, they’ve been charged with resting on their laurels. In riposte to this, their unwanted idiom, Le Pont, I’ve been told, are back at racing speed. With curiosity and gourmandism fuelling me forward, I set about forming my own opinion on the matter. If anything though, this was educational; French modernity, via the tongue.

Fresh, grilled rock oysters with smoked poitrine, topped with a parmesan crust. Even now when I write the words that describe the entrée, I’m salivating. Whether this was/is masterful cuisine or simply that from birth I, unknowingly, was predisposed to adore this combination of food stuffs, I don’t know. And I don’t care, at all. It was, needless to say, a delight. The interplay of flavours, their quality and particularly their distinction from one another were all very good.

For the mains my phenological radar must have been on the blink. It was minus two on a January evening in central London and I chose a dish best eaten on a marina in high season Cote D’Azur. Their reputation for seafood and crustacea must have passively percolated into the part of brain I store Le Pont in. As a result, epicurean expediency gagged logic and it was Le Plateau de Fruits de Mer I ate. 

A fresh and fructuous farrago of a dish, It didn’t matter what was going on outside, I had my seafood, I had my alliteration and I was content. In this domain, their reputation holds strong.

The Sommelier, honestly, was probably the best I have come across. Each visit paid was a deftly fluid and precise execution of duties.The sometimes lofty magniloquence he exercised may not be to all tastes, but for me, he was nothing short of erudite, and I thought highly of him for it – even if his posture meant that I could see directly into his brain via his nostrils. 

Our wine was by the glass and tailored to each dish – Sancerre to start and a Chateau Bouscasse with the mains, I think? In order that I not forget or misspell any of what we had consumed he, without prompting, wrote everything – an extensive list – down that we had drank. Thank God. Presumably, my limited knowledge of degustation was as evident as my inebriation.

The list, I regret to inform, was almost immediately lost. As kind as the Thames had previously been, it had now harmonised our relationship. The irony of the situation was delicious, both in causality and result. Picture a post-prandial, demi-liquored writer languidly scratching around in his pocket, in sub-zero temperatures, for taxi money. With a collection of paper in hand, one of said sheets was blown up and away by a frozen zephyr and thrown towards the river. 

The scene, much to the amusement of my popsy guest and indeed the taxi driver was of me re-enacting the scene in The Polar Express – a young boy, in futility, chasing an unobtainable gold ticket around and above a train. A conclusive nod, perhaps, to my earlier dream-like state. The result was a loss of both list and personal decorum. In the end, the product and result of the list’s demise was the very thing that provided its content. Consequently, I feel, this absolves me of any blame – maybe…please? Suffice to say, it was some well chosen plonk, thank you sir.

Preceding our arrival, I did a little reading on the existing opinion of Le Pont de la Tour. More regularly than at all necessary, I saw trite aphorisms referencing Le Pont to be ‘contemporary’ (…with a classic twist’) in its layout and atmosphere. That would be true, if the last time you went to a restaurant, Thatcher was in power – by reading these reviews in their entirety you begin to believe this could be true. Contemporary in aesthetic, this restaurant is not. 

That however, squaremeal.co.uk writers, is precisely the point. The setting is an intelligently neat and understated dining environment. No waterfalls over your table, no fireman’s pole for entering waiters, no gimmicks, flab or contemporary shit. Those hungry for embellishments have only to look out of the window at the front row view of Tower Bridge.

As far as I can see here, we have a platform for Chef Lee Bennett to exercise his craft. Food that mimics the environment I’ve described; simply prepared (not under-whelming) dishes that give you time to imbibe their respective flavours and revel in their calibre.

Le Pont, you’re back.

www.lepontdelatour.co.uk

The Butlers Wharf Building

36d Shad Thames 

London 

SE1 2YE

For comments or suggestions please email me at - damien@internationallife.tv