The Mercer

The world economy, we are told, is heading for a big recession. The credit crunch is already hitting the City's financial institutions and some of the poor bastards at the top end of the slippery pole might have their annual bonuses cut down to, oh, five figures. The shame of it! But where should they go in the meantime, to help ease their PBT (Pre-Bonus Tension)? I know what nanny would order: a meal at the Mercer. The Mercer captures the mood of the times; it's expensive, but not overblown. High ceilings , polished mirrors and big windows give it a confident feel, yet the decoration is simple, restrained and ruggedly masculine, more like Daniel Day Lewis than Jude Law with its black leather banquettes and bare oak floor. It looks set for business but The Mercer's also good for play, with a barman, Jason, who knows how to mix all manner of wonderful concoctions. But the wine list's an even bigger draw. With two proper wine preservation systems - Enomatic for the still wines, Verre du Vin for sparklers - there's a thrilling selection of great wines from top producers sold by the glass. Power lunching is what most will come here for. Daily specials include corned beef hash, rabbit casserole and shepherd's pie. More up-to-date dishes included a warm salad of black pudding, with a perfectly poached egg, pert salad leaves and pudding that was rich and not unpleasantly fatty. Roast beetroot with goat's cheese was another winner. On the winter menu there's lots of hearty, manly food, from grilled meats to pies and game. Whole roast partridge isn't easy to cook, as the legs tend to burn while the breast dries out, but they got the timing about right for this one. And the chef has the right attitude towards sprouts: cream them in a blender and use them to garnish the plate, along with some salsify and vermouth sauce. Braised oxtail was the only disappointment, the chunks of meat too rubbery. Pudding? Nanny would approve of teatime treats such as sticky toffee pudding or Eccles cakes but, like a comedy sketch vicar, we went straight for the sherry trifle. It was perfect: firm fruit, a tang of sherry, fresh custard and cream. Best in the parish, in fact. The room is far too open-plan for any nefarious deals, office affairs or indiscreet blowing of bonuses (though the wine list has plenty of suitably expensive bottles). Stock market crash? No, just the sound of an over-refreshed hedge-fund manager failing to negotiate the stairs.

http://www.timeout.com/london/restaurants/12502.html