In an age of maximalist design and sky-high prices, Mignonette in Richmond seems to offer an antidote. The name derives partly from the classic shallot and red wine vinegar condiment served with oysters as well as the word for miniature bottles. Shortened to “mignon” this is the rather lovely French word for “cute” (or it even translates as “adorable” once the aphrodisiac effect of the oysters kicks in) and a “péché mignon” is a little “guilty pleasure” or “small luxury.” Everything about John McClements’ new bistro seems to be about such little pleasures, with the price point assuaging some of that guilt.
Looking at the menu at face value it’s almost incredible how the lunch prix fixe is so low – even less than Noble Rot’s – at £20 for three courses. On this visit, the whole lunch plus aperitif, glass of wine, bread and butter, coffee and the service charge, came to an inflation-defying £45 per head. Yes, £45, in affluent Richmond. (Of course the menu is more expensive in the evening but that too is good value: starters are around £10 and mains about £25.)
Peel the onion though and you begin to see where the savings are being made. Not that this is a criticism: in an extremely unforgiving market it just makes business sense to cram in as many customers as possible (as is de rigueur in any French bistro) and serve small portions of comforting classics like coq au vin or tarte tatin. The question is whether the experience as a whole is good value.
The space is undoubtedly cramped (when full of customers, and it’s always full). Walking in it reminded me a little of Llewelyn’s in Herne Hill or Les 2 Garçons in Crouch End but about half the size (and they’re already small), and despite the Arctic cold snap outside it was stiflingly hot inside. The room occasionally filled with smoke from over-zealous frying in the kitchen forcing one customer to open the front door for fresh air, a move so unpopular with the senior diners it nearly caused World War Three.
No expense has been incurred in the interior design either with clay-coloured leather seats contrasting against the walls in a beige hue somewhere between hummus and Baxters parsnip soup. Apart from some mirrors shaped like little oyster shells, the décor is as featureless as a Bratwurst. There’s no music either but you wouldn’t really notice its absence due to the enthusiastic chatter and murmurings of approval (or demands to “shut the ruddy door”).
It’s always pleasing to see any restaurant serve bread automatically though the bread itself was perhaps a shade too salty. Personally I loved the Marmite butter to accompany it but I can see this being controversial for some.
Smoked salmon, cocktail prawns, avocado, Marie Rose sauce
Chicken breast, tarragon, peppercorn sauce
Basque orange cheesecake
Onto the meal proper and a very retro dish of smoked salmon with avocado and prawns in a Marie Rose sauce. Essentially this was (dare I say it without being lynched) a ‘deconstructed’ prawn cocktail but it was sharp, fresh and lovely (and very popular with the ‘Waiting for God’ demographic of customers in that day).
The chicken main course was well-cooked in a homely Delia Smith sort of way though I had to call a search party for the advertised tarragon (it was furtively hiding in the cabbage underneath), and what was described on the menu as a Dijon mustard sauce came as a peppercorn sauce. Perhaps they had used up all of the Dijon sauce to accompany the black pudding en croûte starter. But this is not Le Manoir aux Quat’Saisons where the current festive set lunch is £225 and you’re paying for (near) perfection. And they do seem to care about some of the details here: they were at pains to explain the reliable provenance of the bird (Sutton Hoo no less) and how that resulted in excellent flavour (it did). The crispy skin was sensational.
To finish, hot madeleines with a salty chocolate sauce for dippage and a Basque cheesecake. The latter was mostly good, with a 1990s coulis around it and a hint of orange, though ever so slightly on the stodgy side.
Service was generally on the ball and friendly but just one note: please write notes. On two occasions a server didn’t write down the order, and as sure as the sun rises in the east and sets in the west, they had to return to ask for the order again. I’ve only ever met one person in the industry who can reliably remember things without notes: Al at Scotti’s in Clerkenwell has a remarkable ability to remember your exact sandwich order from six months ago – but no-one else can do this and it’s not worth trying to show off without making me very cross. Apart from that, no complaints.
Whilst I wouldn’t necessarily go on a special trip for a lunch at Mignonette, not being local (the travel cost perhaps negating the saving made), I would definitely go back whenever I’m in Richmond.
109 Kew Road
Richmond
Greater London
TW9 2PN
December 2024
