First chef's table (at Corrigan's Mayfair) a culinary disappointment

I'd been wanting to get to a chef's table for a long while.  Just about every top restaurant in Europe seems to have one these days.  Basically it's a table, in a space just off the kitchen, with a view of what's going on and special attention from the chef.  In a world where it's increasingly tough to get jaded, seen-it-all executives to attend events, chef's tables offer a different twist on corporate hospitality.  And the small tables ensure good conversation.

I've researched and planned these for my company, but I've never attended one myself.  Thus I jumped at the chance to attend a PR roundtable at the chef's table at Corrigan's Restaurant in Mayfair last week.  I fear my expectations were far higher than reality.

I'd accepted the invitation expecting a gastronomic experience above normal dining.  At the dinners I've planned for others, the chef comes to the table for every course, discussing the food in detail.  It's usually a chef's tasting menu, with many small courses, giving the chef a chance to show off and the diners a chance to learn.  And there's a matching wine flight, with more good information coming from the sommelier.  All with a great view of the kitchen.  (At one event we organised in France, the view was actually over video screens and, if you wished, one or two guests were plucked from the table between each course to help with the cooking and get a mini master class.)

Corrigan's has two chef's tables.  One, which seats no more than six comfortably, is in an alcove directly across from the pass in the kitchen.  This might have been the option closer to my expectations.  We were in a private dining room where two thirds of the back wall was a window looking onto the far end of the pass, with glimpses into a corner of the kitchen.  As a private dining room it was lovely:  wood panelling, mellow lighting, ten substantial, comfortable leather chairs, an elegantly laid table.  All as if plucked from an Edwardian country house or gentlemen's club.

But as a culinary experience it was nothing special.

Rather than a tasting menu, we had a standard three courses chosen from a version of their a la carte menu (five options for each course).  With everyone choosing different items, this offered no practical chance for thoughtful wine pairing.  Just a multi-purpose red, or white, poured as you desired.  (Interestingly, the white was a Picpoul de Pinet, with distinct flavours I would have thought a risky choice for a general pouring.)

The chef didn't come into the room, and we got little information on the food.  The thing that started to elevate our experience was a wander back into the kitchen before we ordered, when we met Head Chef Chris McGowan (generally thought to be one of the young guns to watch on the British restaurant scene) and were able to have a little chat.  This was a fascinating 10 minutes, in which we discussed the challenges of local sourcing through this year's rotten weather, the rising trend in foraging and how those suppliers were devastated by the cold, wet winter, and his tip for gnocchi.  Use the dry, fluffy insides of baked potatoes.  But that was over all too soon, and we were back to our table.  So aside from the privacy, the glimpse of the kitchen and the chat with Chris, it was just a nice meal in a private dining room.

How nice a meal?  Delicious, but unexceptional.  I had nothing that made me think "I must make a booking and bring Piers back here."  I started with Riddle Valley duck en croute with hazelnut.  Essentially a round terrine of mixed duck meats with a pastry case, sliced and served cold on a salad.  Worth investigating as a dinner party starter for its prepare-in-advance qualities.  My main was certainly the most elegant beef rib I've had, with the thick slab of meat and fat cut off the bone and slow cooked until most of the latter was rendered out .. highly reminiscent of a good pork belly.  It was served with the bone from which it had been cut arching above it, which the waiter kindly sent home for the spaniel in a posh Corrigan's bag.  The real star of the plate, though, was the bone marrow toast.  More of a crostini, actually, and the best thing I tasted all night.

The place is, according to Chef Chris, famous for its dessert soufflés.  But the combo of chocolate, pistachio and salted caramel appeared on the menu, and I couldn't resist.  I should have taken the chef's advice.  An elegant looking dessert, but the dark chocolate was so dominant it drowned the other flavours.  Chris sent a couple extra rhubarb soufflés out and my taste of this was, indeed, much better.  Light, sweet yet sharp, a much better follow up to the heaviness of the beef.

So, as a gastronomic experience, Corrigan's chef's table wasn't exceptional enough to really be worth the round trip to London.  But it did get me to accept an invite to an agency event I wouldn't have attended without it.  Which, from a marketer's viewpoint, is the whole point of chef's tables anyway.  And the conversation was worth the commute.  Eight mostly senior executives in PR and marketing, most with at least 15 years under their belt, talking about the convergence of the two disciplines as the Internet, social media and the economy change the playing field.  For me, that depth of interaction with peers outside of my own company is far rarer than fine dining experiences, so I was delighted.

Though perhaps not as useful as Chris' tip about baked potatoes for gnocchi.  We shall see...