Series of stumbles suggests L'Ortolan is losing its touch

L'Ortolan is one of the grand old dames of British fine dining. It first gained a Michelin star in 1982, when there were just 17 in the country. In the late '80s, it briefly held two. Six notable head chefs have led the kitchen, while time there turns up on the CV of many a culinary star. It's also the only fine dining restaurant in an area where the next best dining options are chains or serviceable gastropubs.

Thus the restaurant, tucked away in the former vicarage of a pretty rural village on the southern outskirts of Reading, has become the "go to" destination for generations of locals marking special occasions. That's certainly the case for us. I've been to L'Ortolan more than any other Michelin-starred establishment, and my evening at its extraordinary Chef's Table makes it on the list of the Top 5 dining experiences of my life.

But nothing lasts forever. I saw several signs last night, as we celebrated the double delights of my birthday and our wedding anniversary, that the venerable spot might be going through a rough patch.

The first warnings had nothing to do with the food. As we sat in the bar with our pre-dinner drinks,
we noticed a gash in one of the leather sofas, frothed with its escaping upholstery stuffing. At the table, the beautiful hand-turned wooden bowl holding our bread was obviously broken, with four inches of one edge snapped off. These may seem like little things, but at a place that stakes its reputation on perfection, they shouted. Though one of the private rooms was buzzing with a party, there were empty tables in the main room on a Friday night, while nobody occupied the esteemed chef's table. These early indications hinted that L'Ortolan was no longer at the top of its game.

We opted for the chef's menu and the matching wine flight. As expected: elegant presentation, classic French tastes, interesting matches with insightful commentary from the sommelier. The standards remain exceptionally high. Mackerel with beetroot, raspberries and a sliver of meringue was a beautiful balance of strong and soft, sweet and savoury. Who can argue with duck liver parfait, or a main of perfectly cooked duck with sides of succulent "bon bon" made of confit leg meat? That classic main got a modern boost from pineapple chutney and bok choy with a soy glaze. Chocolate tart with goat's cheese ice cream is an inspired combo of rich, sweet and tart flavours. I've had many of these elements in different combinations here over the years; the duck bon bons have earned praise on this blog before.

But all was not perfect on the plates, either. The fish course stumbled: stone bass with sea veg and caviar needed more texture, particularly as the skin was soft and flabby rather than crispy; the date puree that accompanied it was too sweet to integrate smoothly with the rest of the dish; leaving the tempura soft shell crab, meant to be a slight garnish, as the standout element on the plate. The balance seemed off on the duck liver, as well, where we had too much liver with not enough secondary elements to temper the iron-rich punch. The walls of ginger tuile were exquisite, but needed to be thicker to impart an essential sweet crunch to the dish. Mackerel, beetroot and fruit is a classic combo, but were the slices of raspberry meant to be still frozen? I suppose this could have been for texture, but something frozen that solid is both a jarring shock to the mouth, and relatively tasteless.

Repeated ingredients across courses also diminished my enjoyment. Of five courses and two amuse bouche, mackerel appeared in two and duck in two. The mackerel as a snack of crispy skin with dots of flavoured mayonnaise and that first course with beetroot. In between was a rather insipid little bowl of savoury custard topped with haddock foam. Heaven help anyone not fond of fish if presented with this opening triple salvo. The two duck courses were separated by the stone bass. Unlike mackerel I can happily enjoy much repetition of this lovely bird, but it does seem a shame to repeat when there are so many other options to explore. I found myself fondly recalling an otherwise unimpressive dinner at the French Laundry, where they bend over backwards to never repeat an ingredient from one course to another. Call me a cynic, but I had to wonder if L'Ortolan is doing a bit of cost cutting.

It could be that I was just in an exceptionally picky mood. With our magnificent meal at Denmark's Restaurant Domestic still fresh in my mind, my expectations had been ratcheted up and L'Ortolan fared badly. Within its specific context, however ... as the only top quality restaurant in its area and a place that delivers London-quality food at somewhat smaller prices ... L'Ortolan delivers. I'm not ready to abandon it yet. But I'm also in no hurry to rush back, and whenever that next special occasion calls for local fine dining, I'll be watching carefully to see if our latest experience was a quirky one-off, or sign of an ongoing decline.