Zahra Bar

Clapham Old Town has an exciting new addition. Bringing a Moorish twist to SW4 is Zahra Bar, which has just opened its ornate doors in the basement of newcomer restaurant Del' Aziz on The Pavement – a road seemingly named by Adele. Set across two floors, the ground-level bar is flatteringly lit with stained-glass lanterns, which prettify the giant bronze tables that could double as satellite dishes.

Low slung copper light fixtures hang nonchalantly, illuminating the gold thread on the silk cushioned sofas. Gazing up, I'm greeted by a playful dance floor of a ceiling, scattered with luminous pink and orange oblongs. The 30+ cocktail list is divided into the usual suspects: Martinis, Long Drinks, Shorts and Fizz. I opt for the signature Zahra cocktail (£7.50), a mixture of Pampeo rum, pineapple, spices, lime, egg white, and a cheeky dribble of absinthe. Expecting something sickeningly sweet, it delivers an ice-cold, deliciously thirst-quenching drop, with an impish liquorice finish.

Moving to the main bar downstairs, the lighting is as low as the ceiling and the music as loud as the Middle Eastern mosaic wallpaper. Brick red stools line the bar, expectantly waiting bottoms. The stained-glass lanterns make a welcome reappearance, and a belly dancer weaves her way, serpent-like, through the crowd. The place has the feel of a clandestine vice den in Beirut, where the cool kids come to feed their bad habits. Thirsty for a second libation, I opt for an Aviation (£8), made with calvados, cassis, lime and absinthe. Having already been charmed by the green fairy, she works her magic a second time, proving a delightful addition to the satisfyingly sharp, raspberry pink drink.

In keeping with the Moorish theme, my harem and I sample a selection of the mezze on offer, from salty slabs of halloumi and cooling tzatziki to creamy houmous bejeweled with ruby red pomegranate seeds. For the optimum opium den experience, you can choose from an array of forbidden fruits, including cherry, strawberry and watermelon, on the Shisha menu. Though due to the smoking ban, the hookah pipes won't be able to be puffed on until spring. Perusing the wine list, I'm impressed to see both Lebanon and Morroco in the line-up, but the cocktails are of such a high calibre, this lady's not for turning. It may be freezing outside, but Clapham's new jewel is burning bright.

Gauthier Soho

Gauthier Soho is a curious place. Set in a four-storey Georgian townhouse, admittance is granted through ringing a doorbell, at which point you are ushered either into a small, ground floor dining room, or up a narrow, thickly-carpeted staircase, as I was, to an intimate, sash-windowed space that feels like you've invaded a well-to-do, if aesthetically unadventurous, front room.

As tasteful as the white and beige colour scheme is, there is something of the dentist's waiting room about it – a location no diner wants to be reminded of while they tuck into their scallops. Matching the white walls in austerity are the acoustics. On my visit, I dined with my young cousin, who, fresh from a year-and-a-half abroad, enlivened the interiors with her bronzed hue and caused the sprinkling of diners populating the room to look on disapprovingly on hearing her animated anecdotes about motorbike rides across India and killing kangaroos in the outback. Such is the layout at Gauthier, that anything more than a whisper seems like a shout. Noticing this, we lowered our tones.

Interiors aside, there is much to recommend at Gauthier, which was awarded its first Michelin star in January. After a 12-year stint at renowned Pimlico restaurant Roussillon, where he picked up a Michelin star along the way, Alexis Gauthier set up shop last summer in the Romilly Street townhouse, formerly home to Richard Corrigan's Lindsay House. The upstairs downstairs atmosphere is enhanced by the nimble-limbed young waiters, who scurry about, silver platters in hand, trying to transport dish after dish from the kitchen downstairs, up to the dining room in an almost comedic display of adroitness. I'm sure they could balance the plates on their heads if the situation required it.

Our five hour feast – the longest dinner I've ever had, began on a high note with ice-cold Gosset Champagne and a dizzying array of bread, highlights of which included salty bacon and spicy chorizo rolls served warm, with a fluffy interior. This is the second restaurant in a row where the bread has been a talking point, having recently enjoyed the wondrous, anise-flecked Grissini sticks at Tempo in Mayfair. Mon cousine and I opted for the tasting menu, reasonably priced at £68 for eight courses. After our bouches were amused with iced salmon eggs, beetroot tartlets and Parmesan twirls, the meal began in earnest with a terracotta-hued langoustine velouté, exotified by the addition of coconut and mango, which reminded my cousin of her time in Thailand.

Before continuing, mention must be made of the wine list, or tome as more appropriately describes it, which charmingly begins with 'Ode to Wine' by Chilean poet Pablo Neruda. Alexis cleverly brought Italian sommelier Roberto della Pietra with him from Roussillon to Gauthier, where he is doing a sterling job with the wines. A different wine was poured to match each dish, and with it, an impassioned explanation as to why said wine had been (seemingly painstakingly) selected. Our velouté, for example, was paired with Château Khoury Réve Blanc from Lebanon's Bekaa Valley – a blend of Riesling, Chardonnay and Torrontes, alive with grassy, green-fruited notes.

Dish two was silky scallops, lithe langoustine and a dollop of meaty bone marrow in a brown butter jus (pictured), served with asparagus – Gauthier is mad about vegetables, weaving them into his dishes wherever possible. Dish three stole the show: perfectly al dente black truffle risotto in a pleasingly rich brown butter jus, the risotto barely visible through the paper-thin truffle shavings that emitted glorious forest floor aromas. The truffle proved so strong, I could taste it in my mouth the next morning, serving as a ghostly reminder of our culinary epic. Nutty and full bodied, with a mineral core, the accompanying 2009 Minervois more than held its own against the dish.

Dish four: glazed monkfish tail with clams, mussels, and artichokes in a basil jus, having unfairly come after such greatness, proved unable to entice my tastebuds out of their truffle-induced slumber. The risotto should have come afterwards, overpowering anything other than red meat in its wake. Luckily, dish five was meat shaped: a melt-in-the-mouth fillet of Angus beef with morels and – you guessed it – spring vegetables, matched with Viña Casa Tamaya Carmenère Reverva 2009 from Chile's up-and-coming, cool climate Limari region – a fruit forward, unmistakably New World wine with attractive vegetal notes that mixed with juicy blackberry and black olive into a velveteen finish.

A curious pair of wines accompanied our trio of desserts: a 17% abv, marzipan-fuelled Floc de Gascogne Blanc, imported by Les Caves de Pyrène, which matched wonderfully well with my potent slither of Munster cheese, and the final flourish, Cristian Drouhin Pommeau de Normandie, made from unfermented apple must and Calvados, that sang of baked apples and cinnamon, and won immediate Brownie points for its lustful label, featuring an Adam & Eve-like nude couple swirling round the bottle, intoxicated by the apples they've eaten. Much mention has already been made of Gauthier's signature dessert: Golden Louis XV, a Wagon Wheel-shaped chocolate and praline pud finished with a decorative swoosh of gold leaf. It was predictably decadent, but by this point I was too high on apples to fully appreciate it.

With lunch priced at two courses for £18, or three for £25 (without wine), Gauthier Soho offers remarkable value for its Michelin-starred status. The wines are thoughtfully matched, and the menu has much to entice and delight, I only wish the décor was less bright, less white, less not quite right. If Gauthier can translate the soulful character of its food and wine into its surroundings, then the restaurant will shine as bright as its new star.

Gauthier Soho, 21 Romilly Street, London W1D 5AF

Tel: +44 (0)20 7494 3111

Foie gras and wine

Foie gras is like Marmite: you either love it or hate it. I love it. There's nothing quite like it. Eating a well cooked piece of foie gras is a semi-religious experience. The creaminess of the texture, the rich, delicate flavour and the way it melts on the tongue is indescribably divine. It's the nearest you can get to sex in food form.

Head chef Olivier Ripert of Le Bouchon Breton brasserie in Old Spitalfields Market is clearly in the 'love it' camp. For the month of November he has devised a menu of five seasonal starters showcasing the versatility of foie gras. Each of the dishes has been paired with a different wine, from Champagne to the more traditional Sauternes.

Never being one to turn down a challenge, I headed to the BB on Wednesday night to take on the whole menu and see which wine pairings worked best, bringing along a chef friend for an expert opinion. We were greeted in true Gallic style by a tall red-headed waiter, who appeared to glide across the tiled floor like a swan. Guiding us to our table, he thrust two glasses of Henriot Champagne - supposedly the Brut 1998, into our hands. After a whirl and a sniff we couldn't work out how this 11-year-old was still so ebullient and youthful. It also seemed to lack the complexity one would expect from vintage Champagne.

The swan soon returned with a further two glasses under his wing. 'This is the 1998' he said triumphantly, placing the flutes on the table in a graceful swoop and gliding off in the direction of the kitchen. The nose showed wonderful maturity and elegance, with an attractive honeyed bouquet and a crisp, rounded palate. It proved an excellent match for the foie gras brioche pairing - the toasty notes in the Champagne complimented the toastiness of the brioche, while the crispness of the Champagne lifted the dish, which could have easily come across too rich. We were off to a promising start.

Still only halfway through course one, we were presented with wine two: Clos Lapeyre Jurancon Sec Vitage Vielh 2005 , which had a zingy nose of freshly squeezed lemons and limes tempered with honeyed notes. Fresh and zippy on the palate it showed both the complexity of age and vigour of youth. Dish one was quickly cleared to make way for course two - Mille Feuille of foie gras with caramelised apple in a Calvados sauce. It was another great match - the apple in the rosti enhancing the citrus in the Jurancon, which had a lovely lip-smacking limey freshness. The foie gras was cooked to perfection - rich and creamy, it paired deliciously with the sweet apple in the dish, while the acidity in the wine cut through the fat brilliantly.

Without noticing, our Champagne had been swept away and replaced with two glasses of liquid gold - Castelnau de Suduiraut Sauternes 2004. Sauternes has always been considered the ultimate pairing for foie gras, its waxy sweet mouthfeel complimenting the rich creaminess of foie gras. On the night it proved the most disappointing match, paired with foie gras and ox tail terrine in a Sauternes jelly. The Sauternes was not necessarily at fault; the ox tail dominated the dish and the foie gras got completely lost. On its own the Sauternes was charming - with marmalade, apricot and orange peel on the nose and a smooth palate of white flowers and honey, but the match fell flat - the sweetness of the Sauternes jarring with the savoury ox tail.

Slightly deflated by the mismatch, we looked forward to dish four - Cassoulet of foie gras with cepes, butternut squash and spinach presented in a tiny black Le Creuset dish. The sommelier had chosen to pair it with Qupe Bien Nacido Cuvée Chardonnay Viognier 2007. Fresh, young, lively and acidic, it cut through the fat of the foie gras and lifted the dish wonderfully. We were both in raptures over this sublime combination - the mushrooms worked so well playing second fiddle to the foie gras in this symphony of flavour.

Four courses and five glasses of wine down, I had to try and find some room for the finale - Tagliatelle of girole mushrooms and foie gras, paired with Vincent Dureiul-Janthial Rully 1er Cru Les Mazieres 2005. The wine was delicious, with a crisp, fresh, apply nose and a rich creamy mouthfeel. Before I'd got my fork into the pasta, the swan had returned with a black truffle the size of walnut. He began shaving slithers onto my plate with vim, treating the truffle with the nonchalance you would a hunk of Tesco Value Cheddar. Of course I didn't want him to stop, so I refrained from lifting my hand until I could no longer see the pasta from beneath the sea of black. Diving in, it proved the epitome of what a good foie gras experience should be - an intense flavour sensation that makes you tilt your head back and close your eyes in the pure pleasure of it all.

Perhaps the beauty of foie gras lies in its exclusivity. The fact that it is saved for special occasions adds to the allure - a taste remembered that you long to experience again. How many days is it until Christmas?