Walking back to happiness

IN THE winter, when the paths in Kent and Surrey woodlands become mudslides, we walk instead in London, mingling with the crowds and soaking up the history.

This time we chose the capital’s original French quarter, the edgy, arty area around Spitalfields, partly because it was relatively new to us, and partly because it contains a bistrot that’s a first cousin to my favourite restaurant of all time.

When Galvin Bistrot de Luxe on Baker Street closed in 2018 after 13 years, there was sorrow among diners and food critics alike. The Evening Standard described it as ‘one of London’s best loved French restaurants’, and a well-known critic said, in print, that it was like losing a best friend.

Absolutely. For years, the Bistrot de Luxe had been my restaurant of choice in London. It was inspired by the ‘bistrot moderne’ movement in France, and it was carefully and beautifully designed, relaxed and buzzy but always classy. I did a lot of entertaining there. I still remember the texture of the authentic boudin noir, and the sweet, sharp and full fat flavour of the tarte au citron as well as the affable Chef Patron Chris Galvin joining me and my family at our table to celebrate one my bigger birthdays. 

This masterpiece of a bistro was brought down by a prosaic mix of rising rents and rates, a falling pound and the exodus of staff that followed Brexit. But a few years later, the loss was mitigated slightly by the opening of Galvin Bistrot & Bar alongside the Galvin brothers’ elegant, Michelin-starred La Chapelle restaurant in Spitalfields.

It’s the perfect place for a classic French bistrot. Spitalfields is where the Huguenots, fleeing religious persecution in France, became Britain’s first refugees (from the French word réfugié) in the 16th and 17th century. Those who settled in Spitalfields after the Revocation of the Edict of Nantes in 1685 were often silk weavers, and even now there are Huguenot traces beyond the revitalised market and modern office blocks. Denis Severs’ House, which is open to the public and is just a short walk from the bistrot, is a re-imagining of what life would have been like for a family of Huguenot silk weavers. Artist David Hockney has described the house as ‘one of the world’s five great experiences’.

The Bistrot & Bar feels comfortably French with its bentwood chairs, leather banquettes, red gingham overlaid with snowy white tablecloths and historic ads for Michelin and Lillet, the French aperitif. A classic aluminium covered bar along one wall, with shiny copper Pilsner Urquell vats above, is a remnant from the room’s previous incarnation as Galvin Hop but it suits the bistrot setting just as well.

I’m already settled at a corner table when Nigel arrives - this time without his day sack and hiking pole, which is good of him. We have been chums for decades, and we slip into our easy banter, catching up on family against the low murmur of a friendly restaurant. A man comes in and says, conversationally, “It’s cold out there, isn’t it?”, as he slips out of his coat. And restaurant manager Marie Durrieu places a glass of Galvin’s own champagne in front of each of us. “This is going to be a good walk,” I say, lifting my glass.

I order fried cod cheeks with tartar sauce and lemon (£10.50) from the specials blackboard, and Nigel opts for a salad of heritage beetroot, pomegranate, blood orange and walnut (£8), which he says is splendid if just a little salty for his taste (he’s one of those people who never uses salt at home). The beetroot is wonderful though. Cod cheeks are a favourite of mine, they’re more like scallops they’re so firm and meaty, and these are fried in breadcrumbs with a homemade tartar sauce. You don’t see them that often on menus, so it’s a rare treat.

To the mains: Nigel has Cornish sea bream, Jerusalem artichoke crisps and monksbeard (£25), and - being something of a traditionalist - I order rib eye steak, frites and beurre maître d’hôtel (£35). When it comes, the steak is sliced and perfectly cooked - nice with a little Dijon mustard - and there’s a surfeit of crisp frites. Nigel loves the artichoke crisps, and the bream is excellent..

We have eaten enough, but I persuade Nigel that we really should try the desserts - partly because I’m familiar with, and fond of, Galvin’s apple tarte tatin with crème fraiche (£8). Marie urges Nigel to try the white chocolate cheesecake, Yorkshire rhubarb and blood orange (£8.50). It turns out to be good advice, the cheesecake is more of a mousse, light and fluffy, the rhubarb adds acidity and a sprinkling of pistachio nuts brings an almost aniseed flavour to the dish. My tarte tatin is as good as I remember it, sticky and sweet and tart all at the same time. It’s good with a glass of sauvignon blanc.

The Bistrot & Bar is divided into three. We’re in the main restaurant, there’s a large terrace for outdoor eating and there’s a conservatory. Today, only the main bistrot is full, but it’s a Friday on which snow is threatened.

The bistrot’s head chef, Joe Albina, meets us at the pass. He’s a cheerful chap with a remarkable pedigree, having worked with Marco Pierre White and the revered Pierre Koffman as well as the Galvin brothers. We chat for a while and then Marie allows us to sneak along a corridor to La Chapelle. We stare for a moment at the Michelin-starred restaurant’s high windows and towering, vaulted roof, but we’re in the middle of service, which makes me uncomfortable, so we don’t linger.

Instead, we tumble into the cold streets and begin our ‘walk’. In Spitalfields market, a man works as hard as anyone in a Morocco souk to sell Nigel a pork-pie hat, on Brick Lane another man sticks his head out of a restaurant doorway and says, “Up for a curry, gents?” And in Milroy’s on Commercial Street we discover 1,000 different whiskies, but try only one - a Thompson Bros Loch Lomond with an ABV of 53.7%. It is bloody marvellous.

Galvin Bistrot & Bar is not the old Bistrot de Luxe, that was on a bigger scale altogether, and rather more ‘luxe’, but it’s so closely related that it makes me smile. I’m already planning a return visit.

Oh, and we did manage to walk six and a half miles, which I think I can justifiably call at the very least a ‘bit of a walk’.

Galvin Bistrot & Bar, 35 Spital Square, London, E1 6DY. 

020 7299 0404

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