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Tom is acclaimed young British chef Tom Aikens, who runs his own haute cuisine restaurant just round the corner. This is his simpler, cheaper restaurant for the masses (it’s certainly popular with the well-groomed Chelsea masses). With white-tiled walls, a big skylight and a marble counter along one side (behind which you can see the chefs in action), it’s a bright and attractive space – though noisy. The pale wood tables are too close for comfort, however, and the oversized sepia photos of butchers in moody poses are a bit pretentious. You can visit for breakfast (porridge, full english and, absurdly, Weetabix for £2), lunch, dinner or, at the weekend, brunch – though many dishes appear throughout the day. The menu is a crowd-pleasing mix of British and French influences, with plenty of meaty options (steak tartare, cumberland sausages with mash and onion gravy, roast rump of beef with yorkshire pudding) as well as the likes of lemon sole ‘à la française’ and macaroni cheese. We enjoyed excellent eggs benedict (perfectly cooked eggs, crispy bacon), less so a burger with all the trimmings, though the thick-cut chips were spot-on. Best were the puds: chocolate profiteroles with vanilla ice-cream and a sumptuous chocolate sauce; and own-made vanilla yoghurt with sugared churros. The black-shirted staff were scatty and didn’t smile much.
Time Out Eating & Drinking Guide 2008
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Such is the overwhelming influence of Time Out that my friend and I, willful lovers of the brunch from way, way back, made the trek to the posher side of town to partake in what is apparently the best brunch in London, 2008. As connoisseurs of the brunch, we have established a number of pillars to that delicious mid morning forage. Firstly, there has to be your egg based dishes and your pastry baked dishes – crudely, sweets and and savouries. Secondly, there has to be remarkably cheerful service and none of that bluff and pretension we pay for come evening time. Finally, there has to be coffee, amazing thick lattes so dense and expertly fluffed that a spoon could stand in your latte unaided and a range of other healthy beverages to satiate the parched just-woke-up mouth.
At Tom’s the food was good. Not remarkable, or newfangled, but just good. Everything you want in a brunch really, nobody wants foie gras weetabix when you’ve crawled out of bed half an hour earlier. The eggs were poached with expertise and the muffin, not too bready or holey, but a fabulous, stand alone muffin. The brioche arrived – a majesty of wheat and butter, served by fluttering, nervy waiters, perhaps still stinging from the telling-off they got after the last Time Out reviewer. The bacon was pronounced both salty and crispy and from our lustful stares at the dinner plates of well heeled around us, other menu items also made the brunch grade.
But food alone does not a brunch make. Note to staff: fresh orange juice means oranges that have been put into a juicer shortly after an order is made. It does not mean, bought that morning in a plastic carton from the local Costcutters. To charge £3 for 125 mls of the sugared, preservative filled stuff is highway robbery. But it does not in any way compare to the cardinal sin of serving watery, sad coffee. Tom's coffee is hands down the worst I have ever tasted in London and for a nation of tea-lovers, really, that is saying a lot. To serve bad coffee badly at a brunch of all places goes beyond poor or distasteful and wanders deep into the territory of sacrilege, pure and simple. Tom: Fire your barista as he patently hasn’t a clue and for Christ’s sake, put as much effort into your drinks list as you evidently do your food. And Time Out: This is the second time now. My faith in you is waning.
We took my parents in law (from overseas) here for a meal, as they had asked us to go somewhere relatively casual.
We booked 4 weeks in advance (for a Friday night). One therefore wonders why, on arrival, we were offered a choice of either a table with a charming view of the cash register and the staff's station, or a shared table at the back of the restaurant.
Service was OK without being exceptional.
Entrees showed some promise: chilled pea soup was pronounced "lovely." Gazpacho was pleasant but a little oily. Foie gras and bacon was too greasy by far.
For mains, the Old Gloucestershire Spot pork chop was succulent but the accompanying bean casserole on the chewy side. The men both opted for steak - one medium, and the other medium-well done. The one ordered medium came almost medium. The medium-well done one had to be tied to the plate to stop it lowing.
Desserts were satisfactory without being spectacular.
With wine and service it cost us more than four times what we spent on the previous night's pub meal, and the pub meal was better quality (their steaks were tender and cooked as we asked). We won't be back.