<a target="_blank" href="http://www.chezbruce.co.uk/">Chez Bruce –
London</a>

2 Bellevue Road

Wandsworth Common

London&nbsp;SW17 7EG

Tel. 020 8672 0114

BY NEAL MARTIN | AUGUST 02, 2019The Food

Cod brandade with sauce nero and warm salad of cuttlefish, courgette and chilli

Diced
tuna with tamarind-glazed aubergine, soy, sesame and pickled ginger

Mackerel
rillettes with cured mackerel,
elderflower, crème fraîche, cucumber
and gooseberries

Roast
cod with olive oil mash, provençale
tomato and gremolata

The Wines

<table>
 <tbody><tr>
 <td>2015 Les
 Champs Libres</td>
 <td>91</td>
 </tr>
 <tr>
 <td>2004 Sadie Family Wines
 Palladius</td>
 <td>90</td>
 </tr>
 <tr>
 <td>2007 Domaine des Comtes-Lafon
 Volnay Clos des Chênes 1er Cru&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
 <td>93</td>
 </tr>
 <tr>
 <td>2000 Vieux Château Certan</td>
 <td>92</td>
 </tr>
 <tr>
 <td>1979 Haut-Brion</td>
 <td>87</td>
 </tr>
 <tr>
 <td>1966 L’Evangile</td>
 <td>94</td>
 </tr>
 <tr>
 <td>1959 Château Margaux</td>
 <td>NR</td>
 </tr>
 <tr>
 <td>NV Mullineux &amp; Leeu
 Olerasay</td>
 <td>99</td>
 </tr></tbody></table>

How
is the greatness of a restaurant measured?

In my book, there are two
approaches. Greatness can simply mean your snow-capped ne plus ultra gastronomic peak. In that case, my greatest
restaurant thus far is Martin Berasategui in San Sebastián. Alternatively, it
is a measure of how many times a restaurant compels you to return. I have
enjoyed mind-blowing feasts at El Bulli and The Fat Duck and yet, to be truly honest, as astonishing as
both of those were, neither induced a desire to repeat the experience. That was
done. Box ticked. I did actually
return to The Fat Duck and though the menu was identical, I had seen the
theatre before. Other restaurants attract me back again and again without
losing the impact of that maiden visit. They are femmes fatales: I fall for their charms time and again. One could
argue this is harder to achieve, necessitating as it does a constantly changing
menu, albeit one that does not stray too far from what you expect. Consistency
over not months but years is paramount. There must be a sense of value for money.
The restaurant must never lose the ambiance that initially enticed you inside;
the waiters and sommeliers must never for one second drop their quality of
service. Maybe such restaurants must incrementally improve over time so they
are never resting on their laurels. Underpinning all this is the desire and
motivation of the head chef. Are they as inspired and motivated as when they
first opened their doors? Can they recruit a kitchen team that upholds and
improves standards as staff come and go? Have they built a loyal band of
patrons that will see them through the good times and bad?&nbsp;<img alt="" src="https://s3.amazonaws.com/images.vinous.com/uploads%2F1564753229279-chez+bruce+cod.jpg"> 

Cod&nbsp;brandade&nbsp;with&nbsp;sauce nero&nbsp;and warm salad of cuttlefish, courgette and chilli I
have written two Vinous Tables covering establishments co-owned by the same
restaurateur on either side of the Thames. I have dined at these restaurants
dozens of times over many years, more than any other. Yet both lunches in June
this year rank among the best I have eaten at either, which is a magnificent
achievement in an era when restaurants seem to close even before their opening
fanfare has faded. These two have become institutions, stalwarts of the
capital’s dining scene that you could never countenance closing – not unless
you want a riot of epicures brandishing sharpened ladles.

So
we start at Chez Bruce in Wandsworth; yes, south of the river, which for some
is a journey akin to Marlow’s jaunt down the Congo for tea with Colonel Kurtz.
In reality, it is easy to get to: regular trains from Victoria Station stop at
Wandsworth Common, about 50 meters from the restaurant. Chez Bruce’s backstory
is worth recounting, because it is no exaggeration to claim that this is the
birthplace of today’s British restaurant scene. Between 1987 and 1993, it was
the location of Harveys, where Marco Pierre White and a crack team of chefs (including
Gordon Ramsay and Philip Howard) transcended everything a restaurant could be,
basically inventing the idea of celebrity chefs. When MPW moved on to pastures new,
Harvey’s co-owner Nigel Platts-Martin reopened the restaurant as Chez Bruce, naming
it after the man at the helm, Bruce Poole.<img alt="" src="https://s3.amazonaws.com/images.vinous.com/uploads%2F1564753262673-chez+bruce+tuna.jpg"> 

Diced tuna with tamarind-glazed aubergine, soy, sesame and pickled gingerSince
opening in 1995, Chez Bruce has always fostered the welcoming air of a
neighborhood restaurant. That is partly due to its location, partly to the
ambiance and partly to Bruce Poole’s intention. There is a refreshing absence
of pretention, a restaurant that puts you at ease as soon as you walk in the
door. Loosen your tie; relax; you’re among friends. Poole might not possess the
twisted genius of his predecessor, and he balks at the notion of celebrity
chefs. But his take on heart-warming French cuisine that fills the tummy and puts
a big fat grin on your face has rarely been bettered in the capital; remarkable
for someone who did not don his whites until his mid-twenties. Poole has always
served the food that he wants to eat, made from impeccably sourced ingredients,
the result of which is that I often wish I could eat the entire menu, which
deftly treads a fine line between haute
cuisine and bistro-friendly fare. Technically complex dishes nestle next to
dangerously addictive triple-fried potato chips – choose as you wish.

As I
am now watching my calories and maintaining my waiflike figure, I opted for
fish courses. I began with the cod brandade
served with sauce nero and warm salad
of cuttlefish, courgette and chilli. This was a perfect marriage of ingredients
and textures, the chilli deftly lending an edge to the courgette and the brandade not too heavy. It epitomized
Poole’s natural ability to keep flavors interesting, and yet there is just
something heart-warming about this dish.

The
diced tuna with tamarind-glazed aubergine, soy, sesame and pickled ginger was
the standout. At Chez Bruce, there is always one course that catches you off
guard and reminds you of the skill in the kitchen. This was exceptional. The
raw tuna was as good as any I have eaten in a Japanese sashimi restaurant,
which incidentally is quite a lot. What elevated this dish was the tuna’s
interplay with the tamarind-glazed aubergine, prepared to just the right side
of mushiness with just the right amount of charring and then saturated in that
sesame and pickled ginger. I could have eaten this again.<img alt="" src="https://s3.amazonaws.com/images.vinous.com/uploads%2F1564753292811-chez+bruce+mackeral.jpg"> Mackerel&nbsp;rillettes&nbsp;with cured mackerel, elderflower,&nbsp;crème fraîche, cucumber and gooseberries

An
extra course appeared from the kitchen before the main. The mackerel rillettes with cured mackerel,
elderflower, crème fraiche, cucumber
and gooseberries electrified the senses. The salinity of the cured mackerel cut
through beautifully, the cucumber and gooseberry added brightness and acidity, and
the umami sensation was wonderful.

The
main course was cod, part two: roast cod with olive oil mash, provençale tomato and gremolata. You might view this dish as
playing it safe, but that overlooks how delicious it tasted; it was simple but
devastatingly effective. The mash was light and fluffy and oozing flavor, the
cod perfectly moist and the gremolata
as refined as you would expect from a chef who has been perfecting his recipe
for many years.

Having
eaten off the cheese board for many years, I can vouchsafe its excellence,
though for the moment I am eschewing fromage;
I just stared enviously at my friends’ plates. Also, admittedly with some
difficulty, I resisted the temptation of pudding, although having devoured it
countless times, I can confirm that the hot chocolate pudding with praline
parfait is as yummy as it sounds.

We
were blessed with a fantastic array of wines, all served blind. We dived
straight into white Bordeaux. The 2015
Les Champs Libres, made by the Guinaudeau family of Château Lafleur, is
developing nicely in bottle. The nose offers scents of lemon thyme and nettle
and touches of orange blossom and nashi pear, all well defined and vibrant. The
palate is lightly honeyed on the entry, developing an attractive spiciness that
becomes more conspicuous toward the finish, which features stem ginger on the
aftertaste. Maybe it has advanced a little more than expected; nevertheless, it
still comes recommended. The next bottle was intriguing. The 2004 Palladius is one of Eben Sadie’s
earlier vintages, and nowadays you do not see these often. I was convinced it
was a mature Chenin Blanc from Vouvray. Well, the bush vine Chenin Blanc does
play a leading role in Palladius, though Sadie blends it with 10 other grape
varieties. The fully mature nose offers scents of molasses, marmalade, quince
and just a hint of marzipan, plus a light Muscat tincture. The well-balanced
palate is tangy and marmalade-driven, with a distinctive flor-like element and peachy notes toward the finish. It is not a
Palladius with universal appeal, though I find its oxidative character distinctive
and compelling. I would advise drinking sooner rather than later.<img alt="" src="https://s3.amazonaws.com/images.vinous.com/uploads%2F1564753320667-chez+bruce+roast+cod.jpg"> 

Roast cod with olive oil mash,&nbsp;provençale&nbsp;tomato and&nbsp;gremolataWe
began in the Côte de Beaune for the reds. The 2007 Volnay Clos des Chênes 1er Cru from Domaine des Comtes-Lafon is blossoming into a lovely wine. It has a
gorgeous cherry pit and tomato vine bouquet, fragrant and airy and revealing touches
of desiccated orange peel with time. The beautifully balanced palate is linear
and crunchy in texture, displaying slightly grainy tannin and hints of bell
pepper toward the sappy, slightly abrupt and conservative finish. I thought it
might be Lafarge, because occasionally I find Dominique Lafon’s Volnays
heavier, but the style of the growing season impinges upon what is now an elegant
and classic Volnay.

Three
Bordeaux wines were poured – well, in fact, there were four, but the 1959 Château Margaux was clearly out of
condition. The 2000 Vieux-Château-Certan
is a Pomerol that I had not encountered for some time. Perhaps this vintage has
lost some of its initial luster, not least because the consensus from
winemakers and consumers alike is that the appellation performed far better in
2001. This millennial VCC has a saturnine nose even after almost two decades,
offering dusky black fruit, hints of chimney soot and tobacco, and later a
whiff of licorice. It remains stubborn and sultry. The palate is quite muscular
for a VCC, although fine acidity lends it tension. Where one might criticize
Alexandre Thienpont’s wine for its lack of refinement and panache, for failing
to realize the potential it showed during its first decade. As such, I would
afford it another three or four years in bottle to see if it brightens up. The 1979 Haut-Brion is a vintage that I
have not seen since 2006, from one of those forgotten growing seasons that can
pleasantly surprise if you have modest expectations. Initially there was a bit
of funk on the nose, but it blew away. Now, at 40 years old, the wine shows
noticeable bricking on the rim. The bouquet clearly lacks some fruit, offering
potent dried blood, struck match and chestnut aromas that now come across as
rustic. The palate is balanced albeit hollow, presenting dusky black fruit
tinged with licorice and tobacco, and stumbles over the finish line. It is not
the greatest Haut-Brion – far from it – but it’s perfectly drinkable if you can
abide herbaceous claret. Much better was the Pomerol that followed. The 1966 L’Evangile was the best bottle I
have encountered from a vintage of the Ducasse era before they sold to Baron
Eric de Rothschild in 1990. Almost Left Bank in style, the nose is well defined
and vigorous considering its age, offering cedar and hints of seaweed and
undergrowth. The palate is very well defined and, in keeping with the style of
the ‘66s, rather correct and conservative: it shows vestiges of black fruit,
tobacco and morels. I appreciated the fine-boned tannins. An elegant and tender
L’Evangile with commendable persistence on the finish. Bottles with fine
provenance should continue to give pleasure, more so than vintages from the
seventies that tend to be drying out.<img alt="" src="https://s3.amazonaws.com/images.vinous.com/uploads%2F1564753342760-chez+bruce+bottles.jpg"> 

After
all those legendary wines and vintages, far and away the best wine of the
entire lunch is relatively recent and comes from South Africa. The Olerasay from Mullineux &amp; Leeu is a showstopper that flirts with perfection.
It comes from two solera barrels that
winemakers Chris and Andrea Mullineux topped up between 2008 and 2014. It
delivers a punchy 268gm/L of residual sugar, though you will not feel a gram of
that thanks to the absolute killer bead of acidity. It boasts an electrifying
bouquet of dried honey, barley sugar, quince and orange pith aromas that have
maintained brilliant precision. The palate is harmonious to a tee, pure and
viscous, yet the defining feature of the Olerasay is its unerring freshness. It
is so effervescent and brimming with tension that it is far easier to imbibe
than wines with similar degrees of residual sugar. Mandarin and peach linger on
the aftertaste, completing a fabulous elixir that is understandably now
becoming difficult to track down.

You
know the great thing about this lunch? It comes back to value for money. A
three-course lunch at Chez Bruce costs £39.50 and dinner is not much more.
That’s an absolute bargain given the quality and service, and certainly worth
crossing the river for. I started dining here in the late 1990s, and I cannot
remember a single instance of walking out disappointed. Quite the opposite: I
leave feeling elated and looking forward to my next visit. 

Chez
Bruce never lets you down. 

Chez
Bruce, by whatever definition you care to use, is a great restaurant.

(Thanks to my friends for
inviting me to this lunch and apologies for my own bottle arriving too late.)

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