Preserving your judgement

It’s a hard thing, striking a balance between hotel dining room and proper restaurant. The prospect instantly calls to mind several possibilities: the over cushioned, shag-pile of a seaside resort; or the soulless, whitewashed canteen – scrubbed so hard it removed all personality in its quest to achieve the Scandinavian, flat-pack finish. Though it perhaps strays a little into the undertow of this second swirling maelstrom, the Jam Cupboard on Gloucester Road does seem to manage to navigate the dangerous straits between Scylla and Charybdis without capsizing horribly along the way.

Upon first impressions, the restaurant, associated with the Rydges Hotel complex, does appear to be a fairly seaworthy vessel in the same way that a P&O ferry is – it doesn’t look like it’s about to spring a leak or unleash a colony of rats from the galley, but you’re not necessarily overwhelmed by the luxury of the surroundings. However, as you settle, your attention starts to be drawn to details that belie this early judgement. Much like a good suit, it’s thiseye for detail that marks it out. From the gently unique wine glasses and the crisp, leather-bound menus; through to the ‘unobtrusive but out there’ lightshade and the subtly minimalist feature wall, the restaurant isn’t just cut to highlight its broad shoulders and slim waist – it’s also been paired with a carefully selected shirt, tie and cufflink combination.

There’s one more important thing to comment on before the food in any dining experience, and that’s the wine. I have no pretentions to the title of wine connoisseur, nor any real knowledge on the matter. However, I like a glass of red and feel I ought to be able to get something pretty palatable without the pain in my back pocket reaching excruciating levels. With its satisfying length and breadth, the Jam Cupboard’s wine list does cater for this – it includes everything from a few affordable wines by the glass or bottle, up to something to splash out on. That said, however, we ended up gambling on the £17.50 Wine of The Month. With a wager like this, even a good restaurant can choose to stitch you up worse than a Mexican surgeon who’s just watched that episode of Top Gear. But we were pleasantly surprised by the Primitivo that arrived, which The Blonde (possessing a better palate than mine) decreed to have a pleasantly nutty bouquet. Even I could appreciate its fairly light and mellow flavour lacking the acidy kick of a cheaper wine.

It’s difficult to come up with an accurate metaphor for the menu. The best I can do is to say that it’s like Delia Smith: everything there makes your mouth water – quintessentially British and guaranteed to be satisfying. But if you’re anything like me (or as it turns out The Blonde, which was a little bit of a surprise), chances are you’re going to get more excited by Nigella. Put plainly, though we were enjoying the exquisite frustration of paring down our eventual meal from a number of appetising options, we realised that this was partially due to how safe the selection was. Personally, I don’t think you need your entire menu to be strange and innovative combinations of flavours to be appealing, but I think the menu here slightly missed thebalance between dishes that jump out as ‘interesting’ and things that lean a little bit towards good, rural pub grub.

Still, in the grand scheme of things, this is clearly a minor sin and complaining about having too many perfectly adequate choices seems rather ungrateful. So we quickly shut up and plumped for our respective meals – Pea and Asparagus Tart followed by Onglet Steak done bleu for The Blonde, and Ham Hock Terrine with Piccalilli plus Slow-Cooked Beef Cheek for me. On arrival, the presentation stands up to that of the restaurant, with my only slight gripe being its predictability compared with the eclectic choices of the room.

The food itself did just edge, tentatively, into that bracket of cuisine where you feel the urge to consume slightly slower and savour it slightly more. For me, the terrine was a little too chilled; partially losing the flavour I was hoping for – though I couldn’t complain about the Piccalilli which satisfied my love for all things pickled. The Blonde was perfectly happy with her tart, having to fulfil her “grumbling quota” with some choice remarks about the validity of slinging an assault of Eastern flavour (in this case, coriander leaf) like akamikaze plane into an otherwise perfectly good salad. This is the problem with food in a place somewhat nicer than my normal boozer of choice; you are figuratively poking your head above the comfortable trench of adequate mediocrity and into the firing line of real culinary prowess from a wealth of good London restaurants. However, there is a niche for places that bridge the gap between pub grub and the upper echelons of the culinary world, and it probably speaks in the Jam Cupboard’s favour that I started to think of it in this category. Clearly, its pretentions to sneak quietly out of the hotel-dining-room cliché have been successful.

I’ve managed all this before commenting on the mains. The slow-cooked beef cheek fell apart in my mouth like a male fresher chatting up a girl in FiveSixEight. The bleu onglet arrived looking moist but worryingly cooked, however with the first cut the enjoyably red centre was revealed. My mash was given just the barest hint of wholegrain mustard whispering sweet nothings of flavour to my tongue – the entire affair was extremely tasty. For both my and The Blonde’s taste it was slightly under-seasoned, but knowing my predilection to add black pepper to practically anything, I’d give the benefit of the doubt on this. In any case, they certainly raised their game.

Overall, it’s not a place I’d tell people to walk across hot lava (or Central London) to go to, but it works extremely well as a convenient and friendly spot for a quick, intimate meal. The food is a little pricier than what you might usually pay, but it won’t break the bank for a special occasion. As well as the very worthwhile Wine of The Month, the Hotel retains a down-to-earth attitude, offering a free membership scheme and various offers on sites like TopTable without the condescension shown only by those in a position too shaky to pull it off. As such we managed to keep a meal for two with a decent bottle of wine to about £25 a head (all in), which isn’t a particularly high price for treating someone special.

The Jam Cupboard Rydges Hotel 61 Gloucester Road, Kensington, London, SW7 4PE

Opening hours: Breakfast – 7am-10am Monday to Friday, 7.30am-10.30am Saturday and Sunday Lunch – 12.00pm to 5.30pm, Monday to Friday only Dinner – Seven days a week from 5.30pm, last orders at 10.30pm