Well, at that point, a great clucking and flapping broke out. As chefs, we must always challenge ourselves”…Ĭonquering the Beech Tree (langoustine, pork fat, burnt apple): Tom Aikens’ Muse, London. We had a very tall and beautiful copper beech tree in our garden that I would climb again and again. My first memory as a child was a sense of fearlessness I was always taking risks and looking for challenges. And when we learned that the menu was not remotely a menu at all, but more a collection of, well, musings, with courses given titles such as “Conquering the Beech Tree. This was catnip to critics, and we longed, despite ourselves, to know what his “experience-led” journey inspired by “nostalgia and pivotal moments” was really about. Feeling invasive, I retreated to the pub next door to kill time.įrom the outset, Aikens offered no precise menu for Muse. When I arrived slightly early, I peered through the downstairs window into the lounge area to see Aikens himself, the first guest at his own house party, standing there alone. The decor is the meeting point between a Mad Hatter’s womb-like retreat, an Israeli art-deco boutique hotel and a community centre climbing wall. Muse has 25 seats, and a handful of kitchen crew and front-of-house. The word doing the heavy lifting there is “deposit”: dinner for two – 10 courses, with a cocktail and a couple of glasses of wine each – will easily come in at £400-plus. ![]() ![]() In this vein, I also had much openness for Aikens’ Muse, a small, odd, bolshy but emotionally fragile new opening in Belgravia, London, with exorbitant prices you even have to wire a £200 deposit to them before your booking is honoured.
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