French fare at L’Escargot

Lazy Sundays spent lounging in style

If you’re sick of the traditional Sunday roast (I could never), then I might have the antidote. L’Escargot is a Soho institution, as coined by the great Jay Rayner, and who am I to argue with a critic?

An institution it is. Situated on Greek Street, the destination oozes sophistication, offering up the perfect spot to spend a rather lackadaisical Sunday afternoon. On entry, you’re welcomed by a fun and very French maître d’, though perhaps this was a coincidence, and led through the cosy dining room consisting of charming, mismatched furniture and plush armchairs that you sink into.

This happened to be my first review of the year and excited I was. You can’t go to a French restaurant and not trial the bread and butter, I actually think that might be the law in France. So, try we did. An elegant selection of freshly made loaves are presented, and guests should pay special attention to the fluffy focaccia topped with layers of fresh butter. A good start.

I think it’s also illegal not to order snails if you’re trying French fare, but in all seriousness, the menu offered the full selection of French favourites include French Onion Soup, a Duck and Guinea Fowl Terrine and Half a Dozen Hereford Snails, among others. We opted for the soup and snails. The snails were large and plump and submerged in a gorgeous green garlic butter, flavours and texture both satisfying. Star of the show was the soup, with lashings of gruyere – it’s messy, hearty and warming.

For mains, you can opt for a classic Sunday roast, or if you fancy something slightly different, guests can go for a Wild Mushroom Risotto or L’Escargot Fishcake with Lobster Sauce. Fans of the classics, we went for the Confit of Duck Leg served with braised red cabbage and the Grilled Salmon with Café de Paris butter. Both dishes were cooked to perfection, the fish flaky and moist, the duck crispy and moreish. Side dishes came with heaped vegetables and perfectly crisp roasties.

If not eating bread is illegal in France, then foregoing dessert is worthy of capital punishment. Classics appealed such as Crème Brûlée and Tarte au Citron. However, we’d noticed a Soufflé au Chocolat, the serving up of which could give Jeremy Allen a run for his money for a Golden Globe. A small hole is made in the top by the server and in pours molten chocolate – beautiful! I went for Galette Des Rois, as I read this is having a bit of a resurgence at the moment in London.

Both puddings were delicious. The latter, upon finding a hidden chocolate bean in the centre grants you permission to wear a crown (seriously). Sadly, my dessert didn’t have the bean, but they let me wear the crown anyway.

A tour around the property revealed a labyrinth-like maze of rooms, with several private dining spaces, each as elegant as the last. Some housed vintage furniture and bookcases, others enviable chandeliers. It’s a treasure trove of space, especially in Soho.

Sundays should be spent at L’Escargot, especially if partaking on a date night.

To find out more visit: www.lescargot.co.uk