That beefy, egalitarian spirit emerges through clever subtleties and occasional provocations. Escarole brought a great, verdant mass of bitter leaves, cloaked in a nuanced tarragon dressing and dotted with creamy swatches of orange mimolette cheese. Harengs pomme a l’huile was a rush of fatty pickled fish, swelling and morphing on the palate like a prolonged orchestral crescendo. Veal chop with roquefort butter had succulent meat and ripe, soul-tickling indulgence. A jellied tripe dish (heure de tripes), meanwhile, looked wholly cursed; like something in a vitrine at the Wellcome. And yet, with healthy swipes of rough-hewn, expertly weighted gribiche, I found I couldn’t stop hunting down something in its murky, savoury depths.
Bouchon Racine, Farringdon review: Gutsy flavours with a subtle, twinkling magic, says Jimi Famurewa
