Notting Hill’s new swish restaurant is refined and old-school 

Core

92 Kensington Park

Road, London W11

Rating:

Lunch at Core, chef Clare Smyth’s newish Notting Hill restaurant, can at times feel almost presidential. Not for the ethereal delicacy of the glasses (one sigh and over they go), nor the lashings of billionaire beige, acres of expensively blond wood and napkins garlanded with posies of rosemary. No, it’s the men in black suits, whole armies of them, who linger, with exquisite politeness, at every turn.

They meet you at the door and walk you past the gleamingly calm, glass-fronted kitchen (‘Would you like to see inside?’ they ask gently. No, I’d like a drink), and hand you over to the next secret service agent, sorry, front of house fella, who guides you to your table, each sat upon its own bespoke rug, with a mini-me table alongside on which to place your handbag. Or manbag. If you must. Then the sommelier appears, and someone else with a menu, and someone with a portable retina scan to check your security clearance level and…

OK, so I made the last one up, but I half expect them to whisper into their sleeve, before pouncing, en masse, upon some poor soul who orders claret with the fish. But despite the besuited hordes, this front of house army flows like a cool Alpine stream.

The bar at Core. Lunch at Core, chef Clare Smyth’s newish Notting Hill restaurant, can at times feel almost presidential

The bar at Core. Lunch at Core, chef Clare Smyth’s newish Notting Hill restaurant, can at times feel almost presidential

Yet for all this three-star pomp, Core wants to be laid-back too. Like Pollen Street Social, Dinner and Marcus, there are no tablecloths or carpets (save those little rugs). And there’s music, trilling softly in the background.

But don’t be fooled, because Smyth is a very serious cook. She achieved three stars at Royal Hospital Road, and while she’s definitely not in the gutter, she’s certainly looking for the stars.

It’s all tasting menu here too, and we go for the full 12 courses at £105, sans wine. The snacks arrive on some form of sylvan still life, great banks of moss which contain a tiny, beautifully rendered foie gras tart. The pastry is as delicate as a fairy wing, the filling Sacha Distel-smooth. There’s more peerless pastry, this time filled with magnificent smoked eel in a shimmering jelly, with a whisper of seaweed and a sharp gasp of malt vinegar. And another posh working-class classic, this time pig in brioche, as fine a take on the sausage roll as I’ve eaten. None of these dishes is more than a mouthful, and each must take hours to construct. But the flavours are bold, the technique utterly assured.

More mouthfuls follow: Périgord truffle scented gougères, light and lovely. And smoked duck wings, all crisp, burnished fat and luscious flesh. Sourdough bread (there was lots of chat about how it is made, but I nodded off halfway through) is chewy, dense and lovely, with lusciously lactic whipped butter. Then a mighty scallop (apparently it is, or was, eight years old. Although I didn’t catch its name) cooked over cherry wood, and delivered by a chef. Core is very much on au courant gastro message. But it’s a mighty piece of mollusc muscle, licked gently by flame, and artfully seasoned too.

Potato, herring and trout roe. It’s a dish that manages to combine earth and sea with knowing aplomb

Potato, herring and trout roe. It’s a dish that manages to combine earth and sea with knowing aplomb

Smyth is from Country Antrim, so she knows her spuds. And I like her potato, stuffed with herring and trout roe and swimming in a buttery seaweed sauce. It’s a dish that manages to combine earth and sea with knowing aplomb.

Skate with brown shrimps is underwhelming, technically adept but somewhat dull. Although things improve with the ‘lamb carrot’, where a root wallows in the most intense lamb gravy, topped with shards of slow-cooked bleater and served with a fine lamb-stuffed bun. Unlike Rene Redzepi’s carrot at Noma, which was a root of true brilliance, the star is not the veg but the lamb. A swathe of sheep’s yogurt is an inspired addition, gambolling through any ovine heft. More skill with both sauce and meat is seen with venison, perfectly pink, in a sultry, smoky Islay whisky sauce.

Pudding includes a wonderful apple, like a sweet version of Blumenthal’s Meat Fruit, a mix of sharp acidity and caramelised charm, while a warm chocolate tart is further proof of the pastry chef’s art. And not just the pastry chef. This kitchen’s cooking is as tight as a Nashville backing band.

Jellied eel, seaweed and malt vinegar. Core is very much on au courant gastro message

Jellied eel, seaweed and malt vinegar. Core is very much on au courant gastro message

In a cursed site that hasn’t had a success since Prue Leith opened her eponymous place back at the fag end of the 1960s, I get the feeling that Core is here to stay. Notting Hill and high-end tucker have never been the easiest of bedfellows. Actually, Notting Hill and decent food full stop. But Smyth is one of our very best chefs, and although the techniques are fiddly, and the presentation painstakingly pretty, flavours dance between the subtle and the sensational. And for all the usual ‘hey, we’re just sooo chilled’ chit-chat, this is fine dining, no doubt about that. You wouldn’t expect anything else.

It is, though, up there with the best in town. Reassuringly refined, dependably deluxe. And unashamedly old-school, albeit clad in contemporary threads. ‘Hard Core. You know the score.’

Set menu from £65 per head

What tom ate last week 

Monday 

To Seoul, and lunch at Faanie. Dried fish, kimchi pancake, grilled mackerel, kimchi. 

Tuesday 

Exquisite dinner at Bicena. Modern Korean cooking, including king crab, black pork, red sea bream and sea perch. 

Wednesday 

To Japan. Dinner at Wagyumafia, a club where some of the most stunning wagyu I’ve ever eaten is served up. 

Thursday 

Dinner at Sushi Sora in the Mandarin Oriental. Seasonal veg (broad beans, etc), before some seriously grown-up sushi.  



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