Boulevard is a discreet, luvvy-free restaurant in the heart of old Soho. And it even made a theatre-lover of me… ALMOST!
Boulevard
6 Walker’s Court, London
I don’t like the theatre. There, I’ve said it, shown myself up, revealed my true philistine self. The uncomfortable chairs and endless sanctimonious shushing. The ruinously expensive, lukewarm Champagne in the interval. Champagne that requires the tactics of an England scrum half to even reach. The overpriced, underwhelming feeling that I’d rather be in the cinema watching, well, anything. That jolt of sheer terror as you look at your watch. And realise there are another three God-forsaken hours to go.
Boulevard is next door to the redone Raymond Revuebar, accessed by a smart glass bridge through the heart of Soho’s once sleazy sex land. And is discreet, subtle and really rather good
I think this hatred may stem from a traumatic childhood event. It was my eighth birthday, and my father had arranged a surprise. In London. And I was allowed to invite five of my friends. It was just before Christmas, and all signs pointed to Ghostbusters. A film we were all obsessed with seeing. So off we set for the West End, after dinner at The Texas Lone Star, in a high state of excitement. But our final destination was not the Odeon Leicester Square. Not even The Empire. No, it was the St Martin’s bloody Theatre. And The Mousetrap. I don’t think they ever forgave me.
Sure, Shakespeare is OK. In fact, I love Shakespeare. What with knowing how it’s going to end and all that. Give me a hundred Lears and Winter’s Tales over one po-faced, overwrought contemporary hit. Or one second of a Restoration ‘comedy.’ There are more laughs in a morgue. But Boulevard, a new theatre in Soho’s Walker’s Court, is different. In that it has a restaurant attached, a place I could merrily loiter in while everyone else pretends to go and enjoy that play. It’s next door to the redone Raymond Revuebar, accessed by a smart glass bridge through the heart of Soho’s once sleazy sex land. And is discreet, subtle and really rather good.
The walls, painted, in the words of my friend Victor, in ‘Wes Anderson Pink’ are covered with art deco fittings, and drawings and paintings of tastefully naked ladies. A sly nod, I suppose, to the old days. But there’s nothing dodgy about Boulevard. Just like the St John at the excellent Bridge (where you can eat rarebit while watching A Midsummer Night’s Dream), this is a serious restaurant with a theatre attached. We eat a soft, spongy twice-baked Wookie Hole Cheddar soufflé, afloat in a flood of creamy chive sauce. And gossamer slices of kohlrabi, draped atop chunks of celeriac, scattered with roasted hazelnuts. A sharp salsa verde gives it welcome edge.
Whole curried cauliflower is magnificent, charred and still firm, with a hefty chilli kick and a pot of good dahl at its side. They take their plants very seriously here indeed. So much so that any non-vegan dish is marked with v (vegetarian), m (meat) or f (fish). But it’s all discreetly done. No grand standing or finger wagging here. Just a commitment to serious, assured modern cooking where all tastes are welcome.
Sumac chicken, lustily spiced, is rolled, coated in breadcrumbs and deep-fried. Chicken Milanese, by way of the Middle East
Mushroom arancini balls are well made, and hide an oozing nugget of Taleggio. There’s a Percy Pigpink ham hock terrine, with thin veins of luscious jelly, a robust succulence and a scattering of pickled vegetables. ‘A serious terrine,’ says Vic Jr, a fine chef himself. Sumac chicken, lustily spiced, is rolled, coated in breadcrumbs and deep-fried. Chicken Milanese, by way of the Middle East. A thick, juicy, well brought up pork chop has everything you can desire from a pork chop. Including a thick ribbon of good fat. Only the whisky-cured mackerel is a disappointment. A touch overcooked, and little sign of the booze.
We drink a very good white Burgundy. And then another. Before moving on to a grown-up 100 per cent American Syrah, slurping an espresso, and walking out, past the theatre box office. I’m sure the plays will be great. Do go along. But if you’re looking for me, I’ll be upstairs in Boulevard. Food over drama, any day of the week.
About £30 a head