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Long ignored while foodies chased less familiar thrills, classic French cuisine is being revived by new restaurants like Balthazar
For too long in this country, French food has languished under a cloud of "le whatever". I blame chains such as Café Rouge and Brasserie Blanc, one-size-fits-all triumphs of marketing over cuisine. Or provincial joints with indifferent waiters and exhausted mangetouts. Food pundits have been too busy chasing the hottest new buzz to bother much with the simpler comforts of soupe à l'oignon and cassoulet.
But France is being rehabilitated. Some big names have motored the movement: the Galvins with their outposts in London and Edinburgh; or restaurant titans Chris Corbin and Jeremy King, whose latest openings – Brasserie Zédel and Colbert– are classics of the kind, with their croques and steak-frites. Meanwhile, mega-restaurateur Richard Caring's rather decent Côte chain is spreading its tentacles nationwide.
More thrilling to me are a new brigade who have injected the bistrot and brasserie with glorious life, such as Eric Chavot at the Westbury, an example of "bistronomy", where a classically trained chef turns his hands to the earthier pleasures of steak tartare and canette à l'orange. And the Chabrots in Knightsbridge and Smithfield, where I've had frites of such crisp gorgeousness I could have eaten them for days.
These newcomers have reminded us how utterly pleasurable it is to sink into a good daube or a sexy moule. I adored Chez Elles in Brick Lane's Banglatown; and Otto's, on Gray's Inn Road, looks set to be the capital's next insider secret, with a menu that doesn't appear to have met the 21st century: it does canard à la presse, for goodness sake. And did someone mention Balthazar and Boulestin?
