Restaurant Review

One Pico

Eating at One Pico is like viewing a movie by iconclastic filmmaker David Lynch. A lot of the elements don't work at all, but it's always Stimulating, writes Elizabeth Field.

I knew I was on a bit of a wild ride when I first scanned the menu. It was exhausting: Cappuccino of butternut squash soup with coconut cream - roast cumin; seared black pudding, onion mash, apple chutney ­ mustard hollandaise; for starters. Crisp duck confit, honey & cloves, roast pineapple, puy lentils, star anise jus; seared scallops, coral spices, saffron risotto, roasted beetroot, spicy lentil dressing for main courses. Too many words, too many ingredients.

We plunged in, hoping to be wowed.

To begin with, the assortment of breads - white, tomato, whole-grain, raisin - was less than fresh.

For starters, I had the parfait of duck foie gras, aged balsamic, fig compote toasted brioche. A cross between a mousse and pate, and encased in butter, the very frothy-textured "parfait" did not improve on a conventional preparation of seared foie gras; in fact, enriched with additional butterfat (cream, butter, goose fat?) the super-rich preparation was a case of "gilding the lily." The accompanying balsamic reduction, clove-infused fig compote and homemade brioche were excellent, though.
Bruce had shredded aromatic duck with mango, crispy leek & hoisin. It was a beautifully "architectural" variation of Peking duck; my only quibble was its tepid temperature. I think hot would have been better.

We both really enjoyed the intermezzo - a really nice, refreshing buttermilk sorbet, served in a small elegant glass with a tiny spoon.

For main courses, I had an outstandingly moist, huge portion of roast salmon. It came with "chilli risotto," which was a little too busy, with its flecks of onion, chilli and saffron. A "parmesan crackling" ­ or cracker - could have been crisper.
Bruce's fillet of beef was fine but by no means stellar. Ordered "medium", it arrived well done. It came with a very nice mustard mash - great combination of sharpness and smoothness - and a hearty red onion confit.
We felt a bit misled by the description of our side order, "crisp fried potatoes with aioli." Maybe we're ignorant, but we assumed that the potatoes would have been pommes frites (as in Belgian frites with mayonaisse). They were small, halved, crusty-roasted new potatoes ­ nice but just not the same as pommes frites.
We had a fabulous wine: Les Breteches du Chateau Ketraya, a Lebanese Rhone-style with up-front fruit, strawberry nose that was a good match for O'Reilly's gutsy food. It was well priced at £25, and the sommelier was extremely helpful.

As for desserts, Bruce's Valrhona chocolate and crème de banana marquise, chestnut ice cream was disappointing. The marquise had unpleasant lumps of unripe banana amid its chocolately lushness, and the ice cream was too sweet.
My dessert was one of the best things I've ever eaten in my life: a baked chevre cheesecake with an obscenely melting interior that had the nose and texture of a perfect farm cheese. Its accompanying dark chocolate-and-orange confit completed a perfect pairing of deep cocoa, citrus and tangy flavours. It was creative and smashing - a sign of what O'Reilly is capable of doing, but which he did not demonstrate in what was, for its price (£102), a too-undisciplined meal.

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text © John & Sally McKenna
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