Asia de Cuba

I’m in a large white atrium. To my right is a giant chess set, its black and white kings, queens and knights standing six feet tall and ready for battle. To my left, a trio of garden gnomes perch precariously on toadstools. It feels decidedly like I’ve gone down the rabbit hole, though the ludic, Alice in Wonderland interiors are the work of Wallpaper* favourite Philippe Starck, and the scene of my reverie the St Martins Lane Hotel in London’s Covent Garden. The hotel’s restaurant, Asia de Cuba, has equally intriguing interiors, boasting book-lined pillars packed with nihilistic tomes such as The Politics of Powerlessness, monochrome portraits of besuited gentlemen, wooden floors so clean you could eat off them, and quilted columns that cry out to be embraced. The split-level space has something of a classroom feel – all wooden tables and chairs, battered books and low-hung filament bulbs. It’s rather like dining in a library, only a noisy one populated by beautiful creatures that don’t look like they do much reading.

A polished playground for the super rich and almost famous, as the name implies, Asia de Cuba’s fusion food takes inspiration from Havana’s Chino-Latino cafés. Having been ushered to our seats, I notice that Joanna, our Portuguese waitress, has a lotus flower tattooed to each wrist. “They symbolise having no attachments – to people, possessions, experiences even. I got them done when I moved to England,” she explains, recommending that my dining companions and I share dishes in order to sample the full range flavours on offer.

In a nod to London Fashion Week, our meal begins with a quartet of “Front Row” cocktails designed specifically for health conscious fashionistas. Bypassing the Runway Diva and Green Tea-nee, a J.D. Salinger fan, the pineapple-soaked Catch Her in the Rye catches my eye and whets my appetite. Joanna suggests we order two to three starters and two mains. I’m no mathematician, but between four greedy gourmands those sums don’t add up, so we go against the grain, ordering four starters and three mains.

The ensuing crispy squid salad sends me back down the rabbit hole. In a moment of panic, I have to check the comparative size of my fellow diners to make sure I haven’t shrunk, so colossal and seemingly unscalable is this squid mountain flecked with purple and green leaves like a Pollock painting. Wonderfully textured and surprisingly fresh, it’s like venturing into an edible garden dotted with succulent squid, squidgy banana and crunchy cashews. Served with a piquant chilli and ponzu sauce, our crab croquettes are snappingly fresh with a pleasingly moist interior protected by a crunchy suit of armor.

Meanwhile, the pork dumplings are soft, gelatinous and comforting, embryonic even, like womb food, while the spicy beef dumplings are unapologetically hot and indecently pink inside. Continuing with the spicy theme, razor-thin slithers of Thai beef carpaccio are hot as Hades, dissolving on the tongue like a communion host. Mercifully, cooling comes in the form of lemon-flecked salad leaves, avocado chunks and coconut shavings. Atop the beef mountain lies a solitary crispy wonton, which is fittingly bequeathed to me. Sharing a table with three men, I feel like a wonton mistress.

I play it safe with the wine match, opting for the reliable Laurenz V Friendly Gruner Veltliner 2010, which doesn’t disappoint. Crisp and clean, with notes of crunchy green apple and mouthwatering lime, it cuts through the fatty notes and subdues the spice. The main event is memorable. We audaciously order the Lobster Pad Thai, which, at £72, is unquestionably the most expensive main I’ve ever encountered on a menu. We’re so nervous about requesting it, that the bravest of the group coughs the order out then abruptly looks away, while Joanna scribbles down the hallowed words and we all bow our heads in a mixture of reverence and embarrassment. Curiously, the most expensive of dishes is marinated in the most inelegant of spirits: Malibu, associated more with impromptu house parties than fine dining. Despite my misgivings about the dodgy Malibu marinade, the dish is a triumph. Rich with creamy coconut, it’s decadent in the extreme – something you’d imagine Gordon Gekko ordering to try to impress Bud Fox. The flamboyance and sheer arrogance of the dish is very ‘80s, and glaringly anachronistic. I wonder how many orders they get?

Stealing the limelight somewhat from the other dishes, we also enjoy a more modest construction of achingly tender honey rum glazed pot roast of pork shredded into melt-in-the-mouth morsels, and textbook miso-cured Alaskan black cod. Delicate and delicious, it falls off the fork in swan white slithers, its silky texture sweetened by the miso marinade. We also sneak in a pair of cheeky sides – beautifully buttery lobster mash and plantain fried rice, which I could have happily scoffed by itself. Standing up against the rich and creamy lobster is the Grenache-based Domaine de Font-Sane Gigondas 2009, recommended by Joanna. A serious wine with notes of black cherry, liquorice and spice, its velvety, voluptuous body grips in all the right places.

Dessert is a dramatic affair. The carrot cake is obese and slathered with a crest of what looks like shaving foam, while the Cuban Opera imitates an obelisk and encompasses layers of chocolate cake, butter cream and coffee mousse. Served erect with a chocolate musical note resting on a ball of ice cream amid urgent swirls of caramel sauce, I manage a mere mouthful. Defeated, I find space for the restaurant’s signature Mexican donuts, served with a deliciously sweet dulce de leche dipping sauce. Sprinkled with icing sugar, their fluffy centres ooze caramel and prove an ideal match for our final wine, a toffee-filled Taylor’s 10-year-old Tawny Port. Asia de Cuba is not a cheap eat, but if you don’t mind giving your credit card an extreme workout, you’ll be richly rewarded in the flavour stakes. Just don’t go for lunch – lunch is for wimps.

Asia de Cuba at the St Martins Lane Hotel, 45 St Martins Lane, London, WC2N 4HX; Tel: +44 (0)20 7300 5588

Mad Hatters Afternoon Tea at Sanderson

2010 is getting curiouser and curiouser by the day. No sooner had I seen in the New Year with an Alice in Wonderland-themed party, complete with giant chess board, flamingo croquet and cocktails in teapots, than Tim Burton followed my lead by releasing a film version of the Lewis Carroll classic starring Johnny Depp as the Mad Hatter.

In honour of the movie, a host of wonderful Alice-themed events have been popping up around London, including the Mad Hatters Afternoon Tea at the Sanderson hotel, which runs throughout March. The pastry chefs have tumbled down the rabbit hole and created a menu filled with curious treats that play tricks on the tastebuds.

Alice in Wonderland provides the perfect springboard for culinary creativity. Carroll's creation is full of unforgettable food scenes, from the drink me potion that makes Alice bigger and smaller, to the over-seasoned soup made by the plate-throwing cook and the jam tarts that become the subject of a ludicrous court case.

Served in the flower-filled courtyard garden of the hotel, the afternoon tea features rainbow-coloured finger sandwiches – smoked salmon and cream cheese is served between bright green spinach bread, while the ham and English mustard comes on canary yellow saffron bread.

Excitement builds as you go up the cake stand. Alongside the rainbow sarnies are a pair of quintessentially English scones with strawberry jam and a scoop of clotted cream. Moving up to the second tier, all manner of curiosities await. The Queen of Hearts tea cake with its white chocolate pink shell, is full of strawberry mousse that melts in the mouth. It's a full-on sugar injection.

The chocolate and raspberry crackle cupcake is sprinkled with popping candy that explodes like a firework in your mouth, bringing back delicious memories of the paper-thin packets sold in the school tuck shop. My favourite of the quirky cakes was the hazelnut and passion fruit tart topped with the White Rabbit's pocket watch set to teatime: 3pm. The passion fruit took a back seat to the smooth, creamy hazelnut, and its pastry base was cooked to perfection.

Moving up to the teacup on the top tier, things became even curiouser. Four lollies stood in a sea of blue chips. Thinking it might be popping candy, I ate a handful. My smile turned sour when I realised it was rock salt. I shoved the mint choc-chip ice cream lolly into my mouth to drown out the flavour. It exploded in a single bite.

The finale came in the form of a double-sided pineapple lollipop that turns your mouth from hot to cold. The most Heston-like of all the culinary creations, one side of the lolly is covered with a sugar coating that turns your tongue cold, but when you flip it to the pineapple side, your mouth warms up again. I was quite taken with the trick and kept flipping the lolly round to make the most of the strange sensation.

With such excitement to be had from the cakes, the tea is something of an afterthought, but they offer the usual suspects in black cast iron teapots. If you're feeling flush, for an extra £6 (the standard tea is £20), you can pimp your tea with a glass of Vueve Cliquot. I left feeling full as a flamingo, sleepy as a dormouse and just that little bit madder.