If media is the circus of the age, Nick Jones is one of its ringmasters. His empire stretches from his HQ at Soho House– via restaurants in Mayfair, Notting Hill and, er, Tooting, plus a country house in the Cotswolds (Babington House) – to an oh-so-hip club in New York’s Meatpacking District. Come Oscar time, there’s even a temporary outpost in Hollywood. The latest addition to his portfolio – a place so meejah-friendly that it numbers Ant and Dec among its investors – is this new Chiswick club-cum-brasserie (the latter open to all). We’ve commented before on these pages on the surprising rarity of true brasserie-style operations in London, but – though it avoids Gallic cliché – this place is about as legit as you can get. It’s open all day; it does stuff like oysters; there are newspapers to read; a long à la carte menu (plus a reasonably-priced lunch menu); big globe lamps; vaguely Deco feel – you name the feature, it’s here. There are also some tables outside, which are as nice as they can be, given the incessant traffic. If we had a criticism, we’d say that the setting is fine on a sunny day – come winter, it might just seem rather cold and clattery. Jones’s establishments are usually more of note as a ‘scene’ than for any great culinary leanings, and this place looks unlikely to break the mould. Our meal was perfectly fine, and the cost – for one light, à la carte lunch and one from the menu, plus 50cl of vino – was a reasonable £63. Everything was good, even if nothing shone. In fact, the best aspect of the operation was slick and friendly service. Some of the waiters, though, seemed just too damn cool… or perhaps it’s just insecurity about our own stylistic shortcomings.
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