Top 10 restaurants of 2012

As we bid farewell to 2012 and usher in 2013, it seems like an apt time to revisit my top 10 meals of last year. It was a spectacular year for food that saw the rise of gourmet junk food through joints like Bubbledogs in Fitzrovia and Wishbone in Brixton. Meanwhile, our obsession with burgers led to two new Burger & Lobster sites and the openings of MeatMarket in Covent Garden, Honest Burgers in Soho and Dirty Burger in Highgate, proving the trend is showing no sign of slowing. Londoners also got ravenous for ramen, with Bone Daddies and Tonkotsu in Soho leading the noodle charge. Finally, Nuno Mendes of Viajante's prediction that Peruvian cuisine would make waves in the capital came true in the form of dynamic duo Lima London and Ceviche, with Pisco Sours and mouth-puckering ceviche taking centre stage.

Rather than focusing on new openings, I've rounded up my top 10 meals of 2012. While the majority are in London, two were enjoyed in Champagne and one in Modena in northern Italy. Each earned their place on the list by offering an all-round experience, from the setting and the ambiance to the food, wine and company. While exemplary cooking can be enjoyed in isolation, it is the unique dining experiences of my top 10 that sets them apart. 

10: Davíd Muñoz at Ibérica Canary Wharf

Mohawk-sporting Spanish chef Davíd Muñoz set London alight for one night only at Ibérica Canary Wharf in October, when the restaurant was closed to showcase the experimental food from the young chef''s 2 Michelin-starred restaurant DiverXO in Madrid to a cherry picked group of food writers. From amuse bouche to petit fours, Muñoz's adventurous menu was filled with outrageous flavour combinations, the majority of which he pulled off with aplomb, from a crispy oxtail sandwich with baby eel and japapeños (pictured), to wild boar "civet" of black cod with parsnip and liquorice. Beg, steal or blag your way to a reservation at DiverXO for a ringside seat to the Muñoz magic. 

9: Bob Bob Ricard

Owned by immaculately attired Russian, Leonid Shutov, Bob Bob Ricard is a restaurant for suffers of Golden Age syndrome. Ushered in by a black cloaked doorman, a night in its clutches is a transcendent experience. Bob Bob's lavish interiors evoke an Edwardian Orient Express carriage, from the plush midnight blue booths complete with pleated lampshades and velvet curtains, to the smoked Venetian mirrors and brass railings – I could dine out on the interiors alone. 

But what of the food, you cry. Portions are small and perfectly formed, from the signature three cheese soufflé  and textured venison tartare to a bath bomb-like exploding Eton mess and divine salted caramel ice cream. BBR is a one off – a flight of fancy back to an age of elegance. 

8: Salt Yard 

Salt Yard makes up a third of Simon Mullins and Sanja Morris’ Spanish restaurant empire, with Dehesa in Oxford Circus and Opera Tavern in Covent Garden completing the trio. On my visit one drizzly Sunday lunchtime, head chef Andrew Clark – a towering figure with a sailor’s beard, heavily inked arms and a smile that stretches to Gibraltar, whipped up an eight-course menu highlighting Andalusia’s rich culinary history, including numerous hat tips to the Moors.

Highlights of the feast included a lip-smackingly fresh sea bream ceviche with a scoop of gazpacho sorbet hovering atop the dish like a frozen egg yolk, and soft shell crab with saffron aioli that danced on its black slate atop squid rings, spindly legs splayed. Perhaps the most Moorish of the octet was chargrilled quail with molasses and pomegranate seeds that glinted like rubies. Like Davíd Muñoz, energetic young Clark is one to watch on the Spanish food circuit.

7: Madame Bollinger's house 

In March, I was lucky enough to be invited to Bollinger to take part in the Champagne house's annual vin clairs tasting. During the visit, a small group of us dined at Madame Bollinger's house, which has been kept the same since her death in 1977, from the wild boar heads on the walls (the forests in Champagne are full of them), to her mint green dining room. The food was exquisitely presented and packed with flavour, from red mullet in a creamy sauce to a tart  raspberry mille feuille, all expertly matched to different wines in the Bollinger range, proving that Champagne can be enjoyed throughout a meal. 

The highlight chez Lily Bollinger were two chunks of vintage Comté from cheese maestro Bernard Anthony, France's Comté king. Rich, grainy, creamy and nutty, it proved a sensational match for Bollinger R.D. 1996, the cheese echoing the intense, nutty power of the wine in perhaps the most inspired food and wine match of the year.

6: Viajante

Two of my top 10 meals of 2012 took place on the same day. Dinner at Viajante, Portuguese-born Nuno Mendes’ Michelin-starred restaurant at the Town Hall Hotel in Bethnal Green, is an edible journey taking in a kaleidoscope of colours, textures, temperatures and flavours from the safety of your pale blue chair. The softly spoken, raven haired, generously inked, contagiously passionate Mendes has been christened the Heston of Hoxton due to his fondness for molecular techniques.

Hightlights of this 14-course feast (if you count the amuse bouches) were plentiful, but those that stand out most vividly in the mind include a salty and scandalously moreish godal olive soup served as chilled as a Bond Martini – a triumph of style and substance. Potato with yeast meanwhile, attacked the taste buds with razor-thin fatty folds of intensely porcine Ibérico pancetta wrapped gossamer-like around a small potato, while squid with pear caramel and swooshes of squid ink was reminiscent of both Japanese calligraphy and Spanish Surrealist painter Joan Miró. 

To cap off an unforgettable experience, an ice-cold chunk of vanilla and extra virgin olive oil the size of a toffee was presented to me by the magician himself on a white stone. Told to eat it straight away, despite its sub-zero temperature, in the mouth it rewards with an unctuous texture and rich, creamy flavour perfectly marrying sweet and savoury. I can't wait to see what Mendes does next. 

5: Hibiscus

While he may have caused a storm in a saucepan late last year for laying into food blogger James Isherwood for deigning to criticise his food and giving him a 3 out of 5 rating, there is no denying that tempestuous and exuberant French chef Claude Bosi has talent. The only thing that lets his Mayfair restaurant Hibiscus down is its airport lounge decor - a sea of beige and wood panelling, but this is soon to change as the restaurant is currently closed for a makeover.

Bosi's dishes are daring and unapologetic, from yuzu and miso croquettes so addictive, I'm suspicious they might have been laced with crack, to mackerel tartare with a layer of button mushroom cream prettified with edible flowers amid shards of almond sticking out of the top like shark teeth. When eaten together, the result is a rich, creamy and perfumed mouthful given texture by the almond shards. A pleated ravioli stuffed with spring onion and aromatic Kaffir lime served with a buttery, broad bean and mint purée proved equally intriguing.

4: The Ledbury

In December I spent a heavenly night at two Michelin-starred restaurant The Ledbury in Notting Hill, run by indefatigable Australian cheff Brett Graham, at a Krug dinner hosted by Olivier Krug and Bordeaux Index. Unoriginal as I might be, I can't praise The Ledbury enough. There is something magical about it. When I walked through the door, the affable manager remembered my name - it's little touches like this that turn great restaurants into outstanding ones.  

And so to the food. As it was a Champagne dinner, a lot of thought had gone into the food and wine matches, from a citric roast scallop dish with pumpkin, clementine and ginger, which matched incredibly well with multi-vintage blend Krug Grand Cuvée, to a meaty hunk of native lobster in a nutty Amontillado sauce and an unapologetically decadent chicken breast with Parmesan and generous shavings of white truffle, which paired perfectly with a glass of dessicated coconut and lemon sherbet-fuelled Krug 1998. It will be interesting to see where The Ledbury lands in this year's World's 50 Best Restaurant list.

3: Les Crayères

In November I was sent into orbit courtesy of Dom Pérignon and its ebullient cellar master, Richard Geoffroy, who invited a select group of wine writers to sprawling 19th century, 5 star château hotel Les Crayeres in Champagne for the night to test the effect of temperature on the flavour profile of DP at the hotel's 2 Michelin-starred restaurant, a magnificent, chandelier-filled room boasting verdant tapestries, swagged curtains and a grand dining table cutting through it.

Over the course of two hours, eight different dishes, from bracing saline oysters in a seawater granita, and a creamy mussel soup, to tea smoked basmati rice with mushroom tobacco, and an almond-flecked lamb tagine, were served to compliment the aroma and flavour differences in Dom Pérignon Oenothèque 1996 at eight different temperature stages, starting at 8 degrees and ending at 15/16º. 

Fascinatingly, there were tangible differences in the wine at each of the eight stages, moving from mineral at 8º, honeyed at 9º, zesty at 10º, buttery at 11º, earthy at 12º, truffly at 13º, smoky at 14º, and nutty at 15-16º. To Geoffroy's delight, I offered that the wine's evolution could be compared to the different stages of seduction, as it moved from being shy and tight to gloriously expressive.

2: A Taste of Noma at Claridge's 

A close contender for the top spot, Rene Redzepi's 10-day stint at Claridge's last summer was met with much fanfare. Under pressure to create a headline-grabbing dish to keep his fans happy and silence his critics, Redzepi didn't disappoint. On arrival, guests were offered a kilner jar filled with cabbage, which, when popped open, revealed an army of ants crawling across the lime green leaves, the odd ant or two getting stuck in globules of creme fraiche. Having mustered the gumption to put one of the critters in my mouth, I'm rewarded with a pleasing taste of lemongrass, as they share a chemical compound.

Meanwhile, a plant pot filled with edible flowers, carrots and radishes indulges the inner child. Told to use our hands, I feel like Peter Rabbit running riot in Mr. McGregor’s garden as I delve into the pot and unearth chunks of edible soil made from hazelnuts, rye, malt, beer and butter. Slow roast celeriac in a dense truffle sauce as black as squid ink, is one of the most delicious things I've ever put in my mouth. The ensemble is comfortingly autumnal, like shoving your nose deep into the forest floor and breathing in a lungful of earthy air. 

The main event: Romney Marsh neck of lamb marinated for 24 hours in pea miso, then cooked for a further 24 – is achingly tender, falling apart at the sight of a knife, and unashamedly rich in flavour, the sweet, fatty meat served with cooling milk curd and crunchy vegetables smoked Noma-style on Claridge’s roof. Technically immaculate, charmingly playful and exquisitely presented, while a trip to Noma remains a distant dream, my taste of Noma lingers sweeetly in the mind.

1: Osteria Francescana

There could only ever be one winner. My number one meal of 2012 was a bizarre and beautiuful expeirence I'll never forget. During a press trip to Modena, I was taken down the rabbit hole at the 3 Michelin-starred Osteria Francescana, voted the fifth best restaurant in the world at this year’s World’s 50 Best Restaurants awards. Headed up by the excitable, bespectacled, ever-playful Massimo Bottura, the 11-table, 28-seater restaurant is so tiny, it feels like you’re in Bottura’s front room, having been invited to a surreal dinner party. Though Bottura’s dishes are inspired and informed by Italian produce, with Emilia-Romagna his faithful muse, they’re light years away from the rusticity of an osteria.

Highlights of the magical meal were plentiful, from a gleaming fillet of Po River eel and a hunk of swan-white Alaska black cod with a soot black roof fashioned from vegetable ash swimming in a pool of squid ink broth so opaque it looked like glittering crude oil, to signature dish Five Ages, Textures and Temperatures of Parmigiano Reggiano, an ethereal composition of Parmesan sauce, mousse, foam, crisp and air aged between 18 and 50 months and served at varying temperatures, from stone cold to womb warm. 

Meanwhile, fleshy folds of  soft, supple and sweet five-year-old Culatello ham paired with an amber bottle of 1971 Château Gilette Sauternes fragrant with almond, quince and apricot was divine. Ever the sourcerer, Bottura ended the feast on a savoury note with a hazelnut-coated foie gras lollipop fashioned into a mini Feast. If only Mr Whippy vans served them...

Hibiscus

Claude Bosi, the ambitious and exuberant chef-patron of two Michelin-starred restaurant Hibiscus in Mayfair, has a soft spot for ornamental chickens. So much so, he has a collection of the creatures lining the staircase at the restaurant, whose beady eyes watch you as you venture down to the loo.

Having upped sticks from its original home in Ludlow in 2007, husband and now ex-wife team Claude and Claire run a slick ship at Hibiscus. The restaurant is so understated, I walked straight past it. A polished desk on entry coupled with a partition screen give the impression you’re about to check in to a BA Club lounge. Inside, the interiors have been over-generously garnished with wood. Tones are hushed, lighting bright and flowers orange. On arrival, the restaurant is empty save for one or two tables, to give head chef Marcus McGuinness time to execute Bosi’s intricate dishes while he works his magic at new London pop-up The Cube atop the Royal Festival Hall.

Proceedings are kicked off in style when a pair of goody bowls arrive, one containing pudgy cheese gougères and the other ping pong ball-shaped yuzu and miso croquettes, both of which prove so addictive I’m suspicious they might contain crack cocaine. The croquettes explode with aromatic citrus liquid on biting, while the gougères ooze warm, creamy cheddar down my thankful throat. Chomping enthusiastically into a second, my skirt is christened with liquid cheese. Moments later, a concerned waiter arrives and silently offers me a starched white napkin from between two forks before swiftly departing so as not to draw attention to the incident.

Mackerel tartare with button mushroom cream

Obsessed with seasonality, Hibiscus doesn’t limit itself to the confines of a menu, but rather offers a page of seasonal ingredients, asking diners to choose the number of dishes they’d like (three, six or eight), and which ingredients they would like to see featured. I opt for eight courses and ask to be surprised. In a sweet and fitting tribute to the restaurant’s namesake, the feast begins with a vivifying hibiscus flower and pineapple soda amuse bouche, which I’m told to down like a shot.

Perhaps peaking prematurely, the first course is the apogee of the meal. Served in a small black bowl, a layer of foie gras-coloured button mushroom cream is prettified with edible flowers amid shards of shaved almond sticking out of the top like shark teeth. Beneath the teeth lies a smoky, meaty, mackerel tartare. When eaten together, the result is a rich, creamy and perfumed mouthful given texture by the almond shards in an exquisite example of the culinary pyrotechnics Bosi prides himself on.

Kaffir lime and spring onion ravioli

The next course is equally intriguing: a single, pleated ravioli stuffed with spring onion and Kaffir lime served with a buttery, broad bean and mint purée. The audacious use of lime highlights Bosi’s fearless approach. Out to surprise and delight, he takes flavour pairings to the edge of what is acceptable, assaulting and seducing the palate in one bite. Diners of a meek disposition may not warm to his gung-ho style, but, as each course reveals itself, I revel in the life-affirming flavour skirmish.

A pearl white hunk of roast Cornish John Dory was disappointingly mild on its own, but came to life when paired with the accompanying girolles drizzled in Lancashire mead and a salty sliver of Morteau sausage, the mead adding unctuous sweetness, the girolles earthiness and the sausage a savoury, meaty kick. Next up is a solitary, oak-smoked lamb sweetbread served with fresh goat’s cheese masquerading as a boiled egg, the yolk a pool of grass-green sorrel oil. Rich, juicy and oily, it tasted like a gourmet chicken nugget.

Roast squab pigeon with pistachios and cherries

Mention must be made of the wines. Chosen by natural wine pioneer Isabelle Legeron MW and enthusiastically poured by 22-year-old head sommelier Bastien Ferreri, the majority of the bins on the weighty list are organic and biodynamic, so what ends up in the glass is a bit of a lottery. While the opening wine, a 2009 Marsanne/Rousanne/Chardonnay/Viognier mash up from the Languedoc is cloudy in colour and spiteful in character, a 2007 Vermentino/Chenin Blanc blend from the Languedoc chosen to pair with the ravioli is bright, aromatic and elegantly spiced.

The only wine list in London to carry a page dedicated to orange wines, my wine find of the night was the curious and delicious Savasol 2007 from Loire renegade Julien Courtois. Made from the little-known Menu Pineau grape, Courtois deliberately oxidizes the wine to imbue it with wonderful, Sherry-like aromas of hazelnuts, toffee and sea air. Excited to be presented with a gleaming chunk of lobster, it turns out to be the least remarkable dish of the night. Much more impressive is an almost indecently pink slice of roast squab pigeon served with pistachio gravel. Sweetened by the accompanying cherries, the meat is achingly tender and exoticised by hints of spice. Finishing the dish, a crispy samosa contains creamy foie gras and an array of the bird’s innards.

White asparagus and white chocolate cream

The exhilarating flavour journey ends on a high note with a mystery dessert, the ingredients of which I’m asked to identify. Fashioned into a squidgy macaroon, I correctly guess the key components: white asparagus and white chocolate cream, and also manage to pinpoint the black olive splodges and coconut sorbet, but fail to decipher the elusive whey gel. The rich, savoury concoction seems straight out of the Great British Menu – a dish Matthew Fort would rave about and Oliver Peyton would peer down his glasses disapprovingly at. It was weird, but it worked. That’s the beauty of Bosi – he sends you on a crazy culinary adventure with no seatbelt or indication of the final destination, and the ride is all the better for it.

Hibiscus, 29 Maddox Street, London, W1S 2PA; Tel: +44 (0)20 7629 2999.

Aubert & Mascoli

Aubert & Mascoli are the Gilbert & George of the wine world. Parisian Guillaume Aubert (left) sports large black framed glasses and a neatly coiffed beard, while Naples-born Giuseppe Mascoli (right), a philosophy graduate, part-time artist and self-confessed playboy, has short silver curls, a Mediterranean tan and is dressed head to toe in green on our meeting. They make unlikely business partners, but the ebullient Mascoli is the yin to soft-spoken Aubert’s yang. Having built up a successful restaurant business, with a portfolio including Blacks in Soho, pizza institution Franco Manca and neighbourhood Italian Rocca in Dulwich, while working as a sole trader bringing wine into the UK, in 2009 Mascoli joined forces with independent importer Aubert after a tip off by Anita le Roy, owner of Monmouth Coffee Company. “We were doing very similar things and had the same small grower philosophy, so it made sense to work together,” Mascoli tells me over a triple espresso in one of Blacks’ powder blue rooms.

In less than three years the pair have grown the company considerably, and now represent over 35 small growers from Italy and France. Despite their success, they are keen to remain niche. “We need to stand out by bringing in wines not available anywhere else in the UK,” Aubert explains. But with both Germany and Austria boasting impressive natural wine credentials, why do they limit themselves to Italy and France? “It’s what we know,” says Mascoli. “I’m toying with the idea of bringing in Austrian wine, but my knowledge isn’t up to scratch yet.” Aubert admits that they buy with their heart and not their head. “It might not be best for business, but it’s best for us,” he says. Piedmont, Friuli and Tuscany are well represented from Italy, while the Loire, Languedoc and Roussillon make up the majority of the French offering, with cameos from Burgundy, Provence, the Rhône and Champagne. Their best seller is Piedmont-based Valle Unite, Franco Manca’s house wine, which can’t produce enough wine to supply demand.

The pair are pious in their devotion to natural wine, refusing to work with any producers that use sulphites or other additives. “People are trying to shortcut millions of years of history by manipulating wines with selected yeasts. I’d rather a wine have oddities than be tailor-made,” says Mascoli, who compares industrial wines to “cartoon characters” made to please children. “Natural wine is like a silent assassin,” Aubert interjects. “The more you drink, the less you can drink other wines. You start reacting badly to them, coming out in rashes and swelling up from all the sulphites,” he explains animatedly. Though passionate trumpet blowers for the natural wine movement, the duo didn’t set out to create a natural wine company – the focus was always on small growers – but, fittingly, it came about naturally. “The producers we started working with all happened to be natural, organic or biodynamic. It wasn’t by design,” says Aubert, adding: “There’s a libertarian element to the natural wine movement that appeals to me. I like the idea of questioning the status quo. It’s very left wing.”

The duo go on six buying trips a year, visiting restaurants and bars to sniff out the local winemaking talent. They mainly work in the on-trade, supplying top London restaurants and wine bars, including the newly opened Duck Soup in Soho, Terroirs, Hibiscus, Pied à Terre, Galvin La Chapelle and Tom’s Kitchen. “We sell in places where the sommelier is able to explain what natural wine is, as most people don’t know what it means. The definition is a bit blurred at the moment, which is a problem,” Aubert laments. To generate awareness of the brand, the pair took part in the Natural Wine Fair in London Bridge last autumn, and were surprised by the popularity of the event. Aubert believes the natural wine movement has gathered momentum so quickly in London because the city is more prone to the effects of trends than the rest of Europe. While he admits the hype will level out this year, he is adamant that natural wines are here to stay. “They’ve come into fashion due to the rise of the critical drinker. Consumers want to know the origin of everything. There’s more awareness now,” he says.

Mascoli concedes that natural doesn’t necessarily mean good. “There are a lot of really bad natural wines out there. The wines are so delicate, it’s easy to screw them up,” he says. Being a natural winemaker isn’t enough to earn an Aubert & Mascoli listing. “We import wines that are good before they’re anything else. If you have to excuse the wines by saying they’re natural that’s missing the point,” asserts Aubert, who says that to make good natural wine you need to “work like a bastard in the vineyard” and keep your winery “as clean as a hospital”.

Mascoli, meanwhile, believes natural wines require a critical approach. “They’re a bit like the works of Karl Marx: not intended for the masses. Marx was writing for a specific audience with a sufficient level of knowledge to understand and appreciate his work. The same can be said for natural wines,” he suggests. Having submitted work to last year’s Venice Biennale, does Mascoli see parallels with wine and art? “I see wine as the opposite of art,” he says. “God, the artist and the poet create out of nothing. The winemaker works with what is already in existence, acting as a pimp for nature, from the fruit he picks to the soil he respects. The winemaker is a shaman. He doesn’t create, he cures.”