Cigalon

I've now been to Cigalon three times. The first time, I thought the light and the setting attractive, and the “get-up” of the waitresses (tight black trousers, white shirt, black braces) quite fetching – but the food a touch disappointing and the value so-so. I went back a second time as I am fond of French cuisine (clue in image used for I.D.). I enjoyed the salade nicoise and the guinea fowl too, while the wine was good value. Also enjoyed pouting waitress. So when I was invited back last week, I was looking forward to it. Ah well, should have quit while I was ahead. Clearly this is now a place that thinks it has arrived. The delays in every stage of the proceedings were really irritating, the waitress (a different one) had “dead eyes”, if you know what I mean, and even the manager coming in to take an order did not result in things improving. The food was still slightly better than what I consider to be average acceptable standard – but the whole experience became frustrating an irritating for everyone with our host pretending not to notice that his guests were now hyperventilating with stress to leave for afternoon meetings. If you decide to try it out, I suggest that you go “a la carte” rather than the prix fixe menu as those of our party who did made some appreciative comments. Those – like me – who tried to be “good guests”, did not. On the latest evidence, this restaurant has in less than one year opened, got itself going, attracted reviews from three “Gold Reviewers”, peaked and now seems destined to alienate. Perhaps a bit harsh, but the problem for me is, I just don't want to rush back to find out !

French food can often be somewhat hit-and-miss in London and in all fairness, the same could be said about Paris. Cigalon seemed to arrive out of nowhere, slap bang in the heart of the city proving handy for those who dwell here along side me. Starters are priced reasonably at around £6-7 maximum, which is refreshing although admittedly not very exciting with just 5 choices including salad Nicoise, Soupe au pisto and rather bizarrely, a beef cannelloni with bone marrow… not sure I could stomach such a heavy starter, so vegetable tart it is. The tart is sub-mediocre and in hindsight would be a better choice during the summer, perhaps with a light crumbling of goat's cheese to give it some of the substance it greatly lacks.

Main courses certainly promise more than the somewhat lacklustre starters with lamb tripe and trotter stew, which although not for me, is pleasingly authentic. And although the rib of veal is beckoning me to select it, I opt for a lighter dish of wild seabass with a sauce vierge (which ludicrously you have to pay £2,50 extra for!) and a side of somewhat limp vegetables. The fish was just as I had hoped, meltingly soft and perfectly paired with my chosen sauce. Was it excitment beyond my wildest expectations? No. It was nice and it hit the spot.

We skipped dessert as service was a bit patchy and although Cigalon was nice and the interiors are certainly very pleasant, there seems to be an absence of some kind of cohesion between the service, the food and the ambience… It was a decent enough meal, but with no wow factor and with the prices not particularly cheap, it wouldn't merit a return visit. There are better places to eat in the City and there are CERTAINLY better French restaurants in London. The Galvin brothers may not be French, but their restaurants beat Cigalon hands down in the food sweepstakes!

My follower on these pages (thank you mum) will realise that I am on something of a personal quest to fine the perfect French bistro in London. Cigalon, whilst far from perfect, is an excellent addition to the mini-revival of the French bistro in London.

Not so much French, as Provençal, this small restaurant sits atop a fun little wine bar. The room is lovely light and airy, with a big skylight running most of the length of the room, although was half empty when we went. The kitchen is at one end of the room, open to the world. Down the middle are a series of semi-circular banquettes, and these are the nice ones to go for. Service is friendly and warm, although when we were there, the atmosphere was a little thin: we had been moved away from a table of nine, as the staff were worried about the noise that should eminate from such a large group. Maybe they were all accountants from the nearby Deloittes office, but even they couldn't raise the buzz above the piped-in sound of cicadas that, I assume, is supposed to remind you of a sunny day in the hills above Aix.

We started with a lovely fresh vegetable soup with pistou and a slowly braised beef in cannelloni. The former was light and fresh, the latter unctuous and satisfying, a lovely treat on a cold, miserable November day. Mains too held up well – the pied et paquettes (tripe and trotters), was the finest example that I have ever had: far, far better than many actually tried in the heart of Provence. The loin of pork too was well cooked, coming with a smear of green and an artichoke. OK, this doesn't strike me as a “smear” kind of restaurant, but what the heck, they can have their one nod to a modern trend.

The wine list is, as you would expect, heavy on Provence and prices are good. We had a lovely white from Chateau Carnogue: a very picturesque vineyard that featured heavily in Ridley Scott's A Good Year. Truly dreadful film; truly lovely wines.

And just to prove that every day is a school day, I found out that the grouse on offer had not been shot by some be-tweeded toff on the heather of bonny Jockland, but had instead been shot by some Gauloises smoking aristo in Haut Provence. Now I didn't know that they had grouse in France (and wikipedia is no help whatsover on the subject), but my trusty RSPB guide to European birds does indeed confirm that the Black Grouse lives (and dies) in South Eastern France too.

I will be back, but be warned: if you decide to repair to the downstairs bar afterwards, there is a boule range (field/court or whatever it is called – again, wikipedia, where are you when you are really needed?). This may sound like a lot of fun, but after a long lunch and a snifter or two, it is utter madness to allow people to throw two pound steel balls around. I should just like to apologise in advance for everyone I am going to annoy in the coming months.