REVIEW: Thirty Six by Nigel Mendham, Dukes Hotel, St James’s Place, Mayfair

I’m always a fan of seeking out those hidden gems in London. Whether they’re cheap eats who serve up pots of steamy delights, to high end fine dining restaurant who just can’t seem to get their name out to everyone across the capital. There are so many restaurants right now in London that standing out from the crowd, being loud on social media and even investing in good PR is needed even more now than it ever used to be. The Dukes Hotel is surprisingly not as well known as you’d think. It opened in 1908 and its bar, DUKES Bar is said to mix up some of the best martins in the world. Frequented by James Bond author Ian Fleming – it’s said that the bar was the inspiration for the famous tag line, ‘shaken, not stirred’. Coming here for a drink is certainly the place if you fancy a little luxury, whether that being a good glass of vintage Bordeaux, a cigar in the garden or cocktail made at your table from the trolley which makes its way around the room. One word of warning, don’t expect it to come cheap.

I never actually found the entrance and ended up being let in through the fire exit after tapping on the windows, embarrassing I know – but it’s so hidden away I can’t be blamed. Walking in to the dining room I was actually very surprised. For some unknown reason I was expecting a dated, dreary dining room, but instead it was classy, warm, very cosy and oozed classic charm. Peach coloured chairs wouldn’t normally be to my taste but its timeless charm and elegant placing one me over. Staff here were surprisingly very young too, their slightly nervous tendencies became rather charming and they couldn’t have done enough for us. With that came a few warm cheese choux bites and popcorn laced with grated celeriac. I normally hate popcorn served in a restaurant, but actually they done it rather well here.

Bread was abundant and consistently refilled, very generous. Two warm loafs, one was flavoured (I can’t quite remember what with) and the other wholemeal, I think. Although what appeared to be an early outset of alzheimer’s (or the wine) the bread was very good. It reminded me of the amazing bread I had recently at the Dysart in Richmond, fluffy on the inside – almost cake like and the outside firm and crunchy. Delicious. The butters weren’t bad either.

The pork terrine with langoustine, pickled vegetables and granny smith, looked good on the plate – but did it all work together? I just couldn’t decide. The lougustines were generous, three of them to be exact. The terrine was very thinly sliced, very meaty and had some lovely herby streaks running through it. The apple gel and sauce was OK, but a little lacking in flavour and if anything only gave acidity. A nice dish, which could have easily been a lot better – perhaps if someone just tasted it first.

I’m a huge fan of beetroot, and a huge fan of goats cheese served with it. So when I saw this starter on the menu I was already getting excited. How bad could it be? Well actually it turned out to not be bad at all, instead bloody genius. A gorgeously smooth, very delicately flavoured goats cheese which had a texture similar to a mouse, but a little firmer. A scoop of refreshing celery sorbet, beetroot served sliced, baked and as a puree. Plus there were a couple of deep fried nuggets of goats cheese? – I was enjoying it so much I forgot to even notice what I was eating by this point.

Our main course sounded like the safest option on the menu, but when our braised rabbit leg arrived something just wasn’t quite right. Take a small bite along with a fork full of the delicious vegetables, tasty jus and a little mustard and you may just be fooled. But keep on eating and you’ll soon discover that this rabbit leg has been cooked for far too long. The meat wasn’t dry, in fact far from it. It was drenched in juice, mushy, overcooked and was so soft it was like eating something which probably wasn’t too dissimilar to the texture of a cats version of a Michelin star meal, Sheba. It must have been cooked for such a length of time because even the skin had congealed and turned almost white.

We dined here for £35 for three courses and a glass of champagne. You couldn’t really argue with that, especially in this part of town and in a hotel steeped in history. Desserts were a little bit of a mixed back but in terms of technical skill they both showed off a glimpse of what Nigel Mendham and his team is capable of here. Peanut crunch, caramelised banana, peanut parfait and banana sherbet was a very accomplished plate of food. An intense flavour of banana, not overly sweet and the peanut adding a lovely toasted saltiness to everything. Sorbets, mousse, gels, ice cream, parfaits – it had it all.

After being sent to banana heaven, our other sweet course was a bit of a come down. Presentation wise it looked great. Cooking, layering, preparing, moulding – none of that was the problem. The problem were the flavours, or lack of. Dark chocolate, pave, pumpkin, and hazelnut praline. Little balls of pumpkin had colour, but absolutely no flavour – I may as well have been sucking balls of ice. Replace it with some soft peach or balls of nutty ice cream and I’d have been much happier. The pave, which looked spectacular just didn’t have much oomph or richness considering it was made with dark chocolate. I was expecting bitter richness, but there was nothing.

Petit fours were a nice way to end a pleasant meal, if not a little unbalanced. Mini meringues were well flavoured but a little too soft, the macaroons were too cold and while very well made, it meant they didn’t have a chance to warm up and show off their flavour. The Jelly’s on the other hand were some of the best I’ve eaten. Thirty Six by Nigel Mendham was certainly an interesting meal. Service was good, the wine list was excellent and the dining room gorgeous – but the food inconsistent. There is certainly some talent here in the kitchen, but right now it all remains a little confused. And while of course I’d have loved this place to be my new favourite restaurant it isn’t. But that doesn’t mean it won’t ever be.

6/10

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