A Plot of France

There is that one restaurant somewhere on your bucket list that you have never found the chance to visit. Until, one day, you’ve run out of places to try, bored of that same old burger from GBK, tired of that salmon nigiri set from Wasabi, when you finally drag yourself there, take a bite, and kick yourself in regret for not having visited earlier.

For me, that place was Casse-Croûte, a small, family-run French bistro on 109 Bermondsey Street, a 10-minute walk from London Bridge station. I have heard about them, read reviews about them on Zomato, and salivated over the photos on Instagram. It has been a steady number 7 on my bucket list for over a year. Reasons for not going were absolutely ridiculous, such as: “Meh, I can’t be bothered to travel across London”, or “I’m broke”, or “People will think I’m a pig for ordering two desserts to myself”.

Anyway, the story started off with a childhood friend visiting London for a weekend and wanting to try the best, non-touristy food. Casse-Croûte immediately popped up in my mind, so I called and booked a table for 2 at 15:30, the only available slot. On the day, her plane was delayed, the passport control at Heathrow was slow as always, and she couldn’t make it on time.

Well, when Plan A fails, there’s always a Plan B. I dragged my next-best friend straight from the hairdressers’, – still brushing hairs off his ears – to the restaurant, where we had one of the best meals we’ve ever had in our lives.

I would have walked past this place a hundred times and still have neglected its existence. The simple, aged, ivory name board blended in with the brown brick walls that droned on through the terraced houses down the road. A rusty chair was placed next to the mismatched wooden table. The black window sills lead into the mysterious darkness. To be honest, without the online reviews, I would have avoided this dodgy-looking place at all costs.

We walked through the black door and my mind was immediately transported back to our brief holiday along the Cote d’Azure a few months back. The interior was the exact replica of those relaxed, old-fashioned bistros you would find on the streets of France. Cream-coloured café curtains, red and white checkered tablecloths, vintage photographs in narrow black frames against the amber wallpaper. The sparsely-placed yellow lamps created a warm, cosy ambience.

The menu is written in beautiful cursive handwriting on a blackboard, in full-blown French. It changes every day with 3 starters, 3 main courses and 3 desserts to choose from. Although that seems to be a limited range, their dishes will definitely cater for everyone from carnivores to herbivores. Almost paradoxical to its retro vibe, they also upload their daily menu on Twitter every morning. I am proud to say I could decode the whole of the desserts section: chocolate fondant with mint ice cream, apricot tart with rosemary, and strawberry tart with pistachio. The rest? Foie gras, something de duck, lah-lah-de-dah-de-dah… This is when Google Translate came to the rescue – starters were Salad Nicoise, foie gras with green beans and fig jam and tomato soup with croutons. Mains were suckling pig with Boulangère potatoes and Diable Sauce, duck breast with Sarlat potatoes in red wine sauce and finally, maigre (a fish) with courgette salad, fennel and green sauce. A round of applause!

For our starters, we chose the Salad Nicoise and the foie gras. The salad was stunning, both to the eye and on the palette. The usual salmon was served with slices of soft, well-seasoned, lightly torched tuna, placed on a bed of freshly dressed salad leaves and French beans. Strips of red peppers and half a boiled egg with a runny, bright yellow yolk gave an explosion of colour; anchovies and olives enhanced the freshness and flavour of the dish. The foie gras was indulgent and paired wonderfully with the sweet fig preserve and crunchy bread.

Our main was that hearty, chunky streak of grilled duck breast, tender and bursting in its natural juices. Under the duck was a generous portion of herby, chunky potatoes, lardons and spinach, all in a sweet, tangy red wine sauce. I would have gladly replaced the British Sunday roast with this.

And for a sweet tooth like me, it would be rude to not order dessert. The fondant au chocolate was a rich, fudgy, brownie-like rectangle, served with a scoop of refreshing mint ice cream and garnished with toasted almond slices.

My rating? 20 out of 10. You have to go. Listen. No excuses. You most certainly have to go. And if you are worried about the all-French menu, just point and ask!