Novikov

I’m standing in a snaking queue populated by gazelle-like glamazons in six-inch Louboutins and slinky Issa dresses. Peering behind me, I spot former England football coach Sven-Göran Eriksson in a charcoal grey suit. He notices that I’ve clocked who he is and seems pleased at the recognition, beaming back at me with a toothy grin. We are in the coat queue at Novikov, the newly opened pan-Asian/Italian restaurant of friend of Putin, Arkady Novikov – Russia’s answer to Sir Terence Conran. Opening his first venture in Moscow in 1992, Novikov has steadily built up his restaurant empire, and now has over 50 sites in the city – including the GQ Bar and Vogue Café – under his diamond encrusted belt. Branching out of Moscow, the mogul has chosen to open his first outpost outside Russia in Mayfair.

Audaciously placed opposite paparazzi favourite Nobu on Berkeley Street, the 400-seater is the size of a small country. Manned by a burly black-clad bouncer, the revolving doors reveal a dimly lit bar prettified by the aforementioned glamazons. For Novikov is where the beautiful come to feed. All are tall, tanned, buffed and botoxed. Everyone looks vaguely famous. They probably are. Split into two restaurants, skip the more vanilla Italian and head East to the pan-Asian side, filled with more wood than a lumberjack’s holiday home. Everything that doesn’t move is wooden, from the ceiling and the floor to the tables and chairs, even the vases, home to snowstorms of white orchids, are wooden. I fear if I stay still for too long, I too will be turned to wood. A honeycomb pattern carved into the black wall panel reminds me of Doris Salcedo’s Shibboleth, affectionately known as “Doris’s crack” – the lightning bolt-like fissure that once spanned the length of the Tate Modern’s Turbine hall.

The glass-fronted kitchen is filled with nimble-fingered chefs frantically fulfilling orders. Giant king crab legs poke provocatively out of ice, as if engaged in a synchronised swimming routine. Despite its sprawling size, tables in the Asian side are so tightly packed, I’m privy to my neighbours’ Russian ramblings. From the open kitchen to the trendy lounge music, Novikov has cleverly been carved from the same mould as London’s chicest pan-Asian offerings: Hakkasan, Nobu, Zuma and Roka, like the stepbrother they never wanted. I’d turned up expecting Novikov to be a lesson in style over substance, but was pleasantly surprised by the quality of the food. Split into snacks & soups, dim sum, salads, sushi, charcoal grilled, wok dishes and rice & noodles, having perused the menu online, on asking for our order, I unscroll a sheet of paper besmirched with pink highlighter and proceed to reel off the dishes I desire, waiting for the waitress to flinch. To her credit, even after dish twelve, she kept her cool, diligently scribbling as I rattled them off quick as gunfire.

Round one consisted of an army of colourful California rolls wearing what looked like clown wigs of burnt orange flying fish caviar. Filled with fresh crab meat and just sliced avocado, we were off to a flying start. To follow came an artfully presented plate of new style salmon sashimi in a yuzu soy dressing. Cut into triangles, the translucent slithers of silky salmon were crack to the tastebuds, achingly fresh and lifted by the lemon tang of the yuzu. One of many culinary highlights was the crispy duck salad in an umami-rich Peking dressing. Flecked with jewel-like pomegranate seeds, the still warm duck was perfectly pink and pleasingly crisp, tamed by the yuzu-drizzled leaves into a refreshing, juicy, deliriously good dish worth returning for alone.

Out of the frying pan came golden brown nuggets of rock shrimp with chilli lemon mayo, neatly packed into a china bowl like deep fried popcorn, their light and crispy batter enhanced by a satisfying kick of heat from the dip. One of the only duff notes of the entire meal was the tuna tartare. Molded into a candyfloss pink mound, in a hat tip to Russia, the crest was decorated with a spoonful of Royal Beluski caviar fashioned into a blackberry. The dish had a disconcertingly smooth texture more akin to wallpaper paste than the shard-like fragments you expect from a good tartare. Amplifying the horror was an entire absence of flavour. Equally bewildered, my dining companion stopped shuddering when served a trio of pork su mai dim sum finished with tiny pocket squares of black truffle. Appearing like cupcakes in pleated cases, the meaty morsels packed a serious flavour punch, the juicy interiors complemented by the earthy truffle.

In terms of liquid pleasure, the wine list has a heavy Italian bent, with many bottles borrowed from the sister restaurant’s stock. Happily, our ebullient sommelier went off piste, offering us a bottle of Domaine Schlumberger Les Prices Abbés Riesling 2007 from Alsace, its mouthwatering, off-dry, lemon sherbet and sour apple character refreshed by searing acidity, which, in turn, assuaged the spice in the food. Lingering over the wine, we moved to the main event – the litmus test of any pan-Asian restaurant: black cod. Novikov’s arrived enshrouded in a crisp brown leaf that had to be theatrically unwrapped, revealing an enticing slice of fish gleaming with glaze. Falling off the fork, the ice white slithers were enchantingly sweet. You can’t cut corners with black cod – it needs to lounge in a miso marinade for 24 hours before being cooked, further proof of the substance behind Novikov’s style.

Desserts are an event – I opted for the chocolate orange praline, recalling the interior of a Jaffa Cake, served with a tennis ball-sized scoop of palate cleansing blood orange sorbet. With courses hovering around the £17 mark, reaching a peak at £55 for the 150g seared wagyu sirloin, feasting like an oligarch at Novikov doesn’t come cheap, but the rewards are plentiful. The food is well considered, artfully presented and nearly always expertly executed. Nobu should be worried – the (sushi) knives are out.

Novikov, 50 Berkeley Street, London, W1J 8HA; +44 (0)20 7399 4330

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Sumosan restaurant review

Nobu and Zuma dominate London's modern Japanese dining scene, gaining column inches as much for their celebrity clientele as for their food. Sumosan is something of a modest younger sister flying slightly under the radar.

Tucked away on a quiet side street off Green Park next to a Vietnamese art gallery, Sumosan's light, airy space is decked out in tasteful beige and lilac. The pared down interiors are very zen-like and calming.

I visited on a Wednesday lunchtime and the place was reassuringly buzzing with a mixture of wealthy Russian expats (the restaurant is Russian owned), office workers and ladies who lunch. Bypassing the á la carte menu offering the likes of seasonal Toro stuffed with foie gras, and sea urchin risotto, I opt for the reasonably priced five course lunch menu for £22.50, with a side of rock shrimp tempura.

Lunch begins with a refreshing cup of miso soup with tiny shiitake mushrooms, that serves as the perfect palate cleanser. Next up is a delicious, umami-rich Kaiso salad crammed with sesame seeds and peanut butter, which I enjoy with a glass of Domaine de Joy Ugni Blanc from Gascony. The rock shrimp tempura doesn't disappoint - made up of heavenly chunks of fried shrimp, lifted by the citrus Yuzu dressing.

A sashimi selection follows, featuring the usual suspects: salmon, tuna (which is air-shipped from the US at -80 degrees), prawn, and richly flavoured white bait, all of which match incredibly well with my crisp, lime-fueled 2008 Hunter's Riesling from Marlborough, New Zealand.

For the main event, I go for the Black Cod with Miso, keen to see how it fares against the Nobu version. I was slightly disappointed by its diminutive size - call it the Kylie Minogue of the fish world, but what it lacked in size it made up for in flavour. Sweet and rich with a melt-in-the-mouth texture, there are few flavour experiences that top that of well cooked Black Cod. It's all consuming, transcendental even, and I feel almost beatific reverence for the fish and the pleasure it produced. A tricky one to match with wine, my 2008 Tasmanian Pinot Noir from Devil's Corner, whilst not harmonizing completely, far from jarred.

Pudding is a decadent affair. I choose Sumosan's signature dish - a white chocolate fondant, which arrives in an exquisitely crafted golden cage made of latticed sugar. Gooey and toothy tinglingly sweet, it tastes like liquid Milky Way and matches surprisingly well with my Thienot 2002 Champagne, for which Sumosan are the sole suppliers.

Although I chose to drink wine, there's an extensive saké list to experiment with. Head Sommelier Jean-Louis Naveilhan offers eight different sakés by the glass, and saké flights – three sakés by the glass for £10.50. Naveilhan is adamant that the rice wine, which should always be served chilled, can be enjoyed throughout the meal, from apéritif to pudding.

L'Etranger restaurant review

As AA Gill mentioned in his recent review of Comerç 24 in Barcelona, our approach to food is changing. In keeping with our impatient times, we want our food to be big, bright and breathtaking, attacking our tastebuds with flavour, and menus across the world have been pimped with exotic ingredients to keep up with the trend.

One way to win on the flavour front is to marry food from two different cultures, bringing the best of both worlds to the table. Sushinho on King's Road is doing interesting things with its Brazilian and Japanese menu, but way before the restaurant opened its doors, L'Etranger was in on the act.

The South Kensington stalwart has been serving up French and Japanese, or 'Frapanese' cuisine since 2002. Head chef Jerome Tauvron, whose CV includes stints with Pierre Gagnaire in France, Alain Ducasse in Monaco and Marco Pierre White in London, isn't keen on the term 'fusion' cooking, as while working together, the ingredients remain separate and distinct platefellows.

The minimal lilac and grey interiors seem to echo Albert Camus' economical writing style in the existentialist novel L'Etranger, from which the restaurant gets its name. Boasting over 1,000 bins, L'Etranger has one of the finest wine lists in London and an on-site wine shop. Perhaps in a nod to the novel's protagonist, Meursault, an impressive 40 Meursault's by the bottle are on offer.

I dined at L'Etranger with a chef friend on a Tuesday evening, and the urbane 50-seater was throbbing with life. Arriving early, our table was soon flanked on both sides by enthusiastic Americans. Manager Dorian explained that they rely on their regular customers and that numbers dipped dramatically during the ash cloud crisis, when a chunk of their affluent clientele were left stranded in different pockets of the world.

L (the chef) and I both opted for tasting menus, with L sampling the £59 'Degustation' menu, while I opted for the slightly more decadent £89 'Opulence' menu, both of which were diligently matched with different wines by Timothy, our eager-to-please French sommelier who looked like he was fresh out of wine school.

My scallops tartar with summer black truffles served in its shell was matched with top Rhône producer E. Guigal's Crozes-Hermitage Blanc (£9.50/glass). The pairing worked well, the ceviche-style citrus in the dish mirroring the remarkable freshness of the rich, complex white Rhône. Light yet flavoursome, it was hard to fault, and the perfect beginning to this epicurean adventure. L's tuna tartare was well executed, but the accompanying serving of sevruga caviar was tiny.

As L's menu was a dish smaller than mine, we both shared the rock shrimp and exotic flower tempura with sweet ponzu; a sauce made from soy and lemon. Served in a Japanese bamboo steamer, the green, orange and purple exotic flowers exploded with colour, and when paired with the sauce, flavour. Rock shrimp tempura is my favourite thing on the menu at Nobu, and I didn't think anything could ever come close to matching its magnificence, but this did, the zesty sauce wonderfully counterbalancing the fatty tempura. Our wine match, 2008 Gatekeeper Chardonnay from the Barossa Valley in Australia (£8.50/glass) was the most disappointing of the night. The wine was rich and buttery, while I was hoping for something fresh and zippy to cut through the fat.

Both the fish dishes impressed. I was envious of L's caramelised black cod and sweet miso sauce, L'Etranger's signature dish, but in the end it was my roast Chilean seabass that shone. While the cod was slightly dry, my seabass was expertly cooked and fell off the fork. Tender and slightly sweet, the flavours were elegant and delicate rather than punchy. It was matched with an exciting, grassy wine from Nantes producer Eric Chevalier made from the region's native grape Fie Gris (£40/bottle), whose searing acidity cut through the oily fish, giving it freshness and lift.

On to the main event, which for me was pampered and preened Grade 9 Wagyu beef fillet with black truffle and sauteed wild mushrooms paired with Austrian producer Anita Und Hans Nittnaus Kurzberg Pinot Noir 2005 (£9.50/glass). I asked for it medium rare, and it came deliciously pink. Soft and tender, the meat was almost silky, and packed with juicy flavour, which harmonized with the savoury, leathery Pinot Noir, that took a back seat to the beef, enhancing rather than overpowering its flavour. When combined with the rich foie gras and heady truffle it made for a soft, opulent mouthful of flavour-rich food. I closed my eyes in pure delight to catch every flavour in my mouth. But at £55 a la carte, it should be damn good.

Pudding was an equally exciting affair. After a tofu ice cream palate cleanser and a glass a ice-cold saké, L's caramel tart with macadamia nuts matched with Ramos Pinto 10-year-old Tawny Port stole the limelight from my more modest pear tartin and sesame ice cream, which matched well with a waxy, unctuous Château Septy Monbazillac 2005 (£9/glass).

L'Etranger clearly knows what it's doing. The food is accomplished and stylishly presented, and the service from the predominantly French staff is attentive without being overbearing. The a la carte will give your credit card a workout, but the 3 course set lunch is amazingly good value at £19.50. Marrying French and Japanese food may sound like a strange exercise, and you have to taste it to believe it, but Tauvron's dishes respect the classic tradition, bringing with them an exciting modern twist.