Tag: ian nairn

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House of Tides Restaurant Newcastle-upon-Tyne +

Riding the Wave

“And the place where new life must start – this may be a surprise, because nobody seems to care two hoots for it at the moment – is the quayside. Whichever way you come to Newcastle, get down to the quayside first,” orders Ian Nairn in his 1967 guide Nairn’s Towns. We obey and not just because the city’s leading restaurant is on the quayside in a Grade I Listed former house opposite the Grade II* Listed Wetherspoon’s pub which was once a house and attached warehouse. Both date from the 16th century. Almost six decades after Nairn’s Towns was first published, the quayside is now a much loved tourist and cultural asset.

The House of Tides was launched a decade ago by husband and wife team Kenny and Abbie Atkinson. He’s now one of the north of England’s most acclaimed chefs. Past roles include a stint as Head Chef of Seaham Hall, Durham, then owned by Von Essen Hotels. “We didn’t want our restaurant to be in a glass box or near bars and clubs which is quite difficult in Newcastle,” relates Kenny. An historic merchant’s dwelling jammed against the gargantuan Tyne Bridge is definitely not a glass box and Wetherspoon’s is the only nearby bar. Clubland has never quite ventured this direction.

The pedestrian route from Newcastle Railway Station to the restaurant is full of intrigue and surprise. Tyne Bridge arches its way across the grounds of Newcastle Castle splitting the keep from the gatehouse. There were no Conservation Areas in Victorian times. Moot Hall is one of the visual treats en route: a Greek Revival courthouse soon to be converted into a hotel by the Gainford Group which owns the jolly decent County Hotel opposite the station. Completed in 1812, architect John Stokoe gave the entrance front a tetrastyle fluted Doric portico and the river facing front a hexastyle portico. Ian Nairn states, “John Stokoe makes the official masters of the style – Smirke, Wilkins and so on – look like pallid pedants.” Next to Tyne Bridge, steps called Long Stairs, bordered by overgrown vegetation and the backs of houses, descend to the quayside. Long Stairs feel a little isolated, a bit ghostly, a tad eery, even by daytime. Later, as dusk falls, orbs will appear.

First impressions of House of Tides – and lasting memories – are of rustic robustness. The three and four storey block has a stone faced ground floor, reddish brown brick upper floors and a pantiled roof. Some of the vertically proportioned sash windows have been reduced in size to casements leaving the original lintels charmingly floating like architectural eyebrows. Inside, the ground floor is one long open bar with informal seating. The restaurant occupies a similar space upstairs.

Rather than being hidden away, the kitchen faces onto the street. Its location adds to the drama of servers parading upstairs to the first floor restaurant, then standing to attention before waiters relieve them of their plates. That’s about as formal as it gets. “Are you enjoying the chilled vibe?” asks our waiter before methodically listing the ingredients as each course of the tasting menu arrives. “How do you remember all that?” we enquire. “I’ve no idea!” he laughs and summarises how the penultimate course, Buttermilk (pear, celery, lemon verbena), is a “journey from savoury to sweet”. A segue on the tongue. The mild vinegary tang jogs our memories of traditional pudding in the Aachen Town Hall cellar brasserie.

The first three courses – Gougère (butternut squash, miso), Goat’s Cheese Parfait (curried granola, rye crackers), Crab (spiced shrimps, crumpet) – set the scene. Refined unfussy food; accessible fine dining. A clarity of culinary vision matched by the white, off white and cream décor complementing the rusticity of the slanted windows and slanted timber floors and slanted plasterwork laden beams. Sourdough (malt butter, toasted yeast) is straight from the baker’s oven. Seatrout (kombu, trout roe, dill, dashi), Cod (mussels, Grelot onions sea herbs) and Monkfish (celeriac, onion, persillade) are three subtly sexy fish dishes. Kenny’s twists of tradition include gooseberry ketchup and wasabi ketchup. Blackberry Crémeux (apple, crème fraîche, meringue) has form and more. No wonder the restaurant snapped up its Michelin star just six months after opening.

“At House of Tides we believe our wine list is an extension of the ethos of the restaurant,” Kenny admits. “It is a collection of our favourite wines and reflects the tastes and passion of the people that have worked to put it together. Our ambition is to take you on a journey through the vineyards from around the world.” As Francophiles we are happy to go no further than across the Channel. A Peu Près Sauvignon Blanc, Loire Valley, 2020, for the savouries. Vigneron Ardechois, Coteau St Giraud, Late Harvest Viognier, 2020, for the sweets. Below at street level, during the course of lunch the bollarded space in front of House of Tides has been carpeted yellow with the fall of autumn leaves.

After lunch we will climb back up Long Stairs to inspect the Augustus Welby Northmore Pugin designed needle spired St Mary’s Catholic Cathedral on the far side of the railway station. The organist is practising for a wedding. He plays two minutes of Franz Schubert’s Ave Maria, two of Johann Pachelbel’s Canon in D, Johann Sebastian Bach’s Jesu Joy of Man’s Desiring, César Franck’s Panis Angelicus, Richard Wagner’s Bridal Chorus and Ennio Morricone’s Gabriel’s Oboe. A musical tasting menu.

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Passionné Restaurant Paris + Menu Carte Blanche

Le Neuvième 

“It is true that I put a certain amount of effort into my trimmings, and as for feathers, everyone wears them; what would seem extraordinary would be to wear none.” Marie-Antoinette, 1775

Paris, the city of cafés and restaurants, where there’s always room for one more. The latest addition to the 9th Arrondisement is Passionné, immediately south of St Eugène and St Cécile’s Church in what was once a Jewish quarter. This is the real city, just far enough away from Gare du Nord and les Anglais. Le Magnum Bar on Rue du Faubourg Poissonnière with its cat silhouette sign is typical of the area: chic understatement. The bar backs onto the 95 metre long Rue Ambroise Thomas which is terminated by a rusticated stone wall. You can always catch a performance of Carmen or Lakmé at the Palais Garnier (after all this is Opéra Arrondisement) further to the south again but this part of the Haussmannian grid – Rue Bleue, Rue du Conservatoire, Rue de Paradis, Rue Richer – is slightly off the tourist track.

The 4th Edition of the Michelin Guide was published in summer 1960. It contains pointers for visitors to the 9th Arrondisement: “The Rue de Rivoli and the Rue St Honoré draw women in great numbers, for many elegant shops are in these two streets.” And reiterating the message, “The elegant shops of the Rue St Honoré from the Rue de Castiglione to the Rue Royale are the great attractions for the ladies.” Ladies (and some gentlemen) like to lunch and Passionné had barely opened its discreet doors when it received a Michelin star.

Discreet – make that very discreet. The charcoal grey exterior fronts onto the genteel Rue Bergère and sides onto the gated Cité Rougemont. Translucent window blinds give nothing away. The only clue of an exclusive restaurant’s presence is a brass name plaque beside the entrance door. Inside, it’s all about good looks. Good looking interior: designer Kuniko Takano has created a cocoon of darkness in the city of light. The midnight blue walls could be an advertisement for the 2013 film Blue is the Warmest Colour (like Adèle Exarchopoulus’ blue cardigan; Léa Seydoux’s blue hair; Stéphane Mercoyrol’s blue jacket; the blue disco light; the blue protest march smoke; Baya Rehaz cries, “I love the colour blue”).

Good looking staff: Vanessa Paradis and Jérémie Laheurte types (all assassin black suits and killer cheekbones) deliver concise explanations (“Take one bite because inside it’s liquid!”) and precise instructions (“Eat the dishes in this order!”). Bread is constantly replenished; glassware and cutlery continually renewed. The ground floor service bar and basement kitchen are kept busy. Good looking clientele: goes without saying, birds of a feather.

Les mots du Chef: “Passion is at the heart of our gourmet and seasonal menu. I am delighted to welcome you to our restaurant for an extraordinary culinary experience. I source all the ingredients myself and express my passion in making dishes. I also want to express and honour the French terroir with a selection of delicious vegetables. Hokkaido where I was born and raised is a region of Japan close to the same latitude as Paris. My cuisine is where Japanese spirit and French passion come together.”

Lunch is the Menu Carte Blanche and the Prestige Sept Étapes can be wine paired with Évasion (trois verres) or Prestige (cinq verres). For the truly oenologically curious, start with Philipponnat Champagne, the imbibed equivalent of caviar. And then there is caviar, plenty of that too. Chef Satoshi Horiuchi creates colourful edible artworks in an array of contrasting flavours and textures (beetroot and oil for starters). There may be no feathers but there are plenty of trimmings, some edible (flowers), some decorative (steaming shells). And foam – this is Michelin dining. Courses arrive in baskets, in boxes, on rocks, on pebbles and on smooth or textured crockery. Tablescape as topography.

Ian Nairn (Nairn’s Paris, 1968) calls the French capital, “A collective masterpiece, perhaps the greatest in the world.” Abbott Joseph Liebling (Between Meals: An Appetite for Paris, 1986) calls it, “A city of colonnades.” Jonathan Meades (The Times Restaurant Guide, 2002) features just one restaurant in the 9th Arrondisement, Charlot Roi des Coquillages on Place de Clichy. It closed in 2017. Jonathan stated, “The suited service is charmingly urbane.” A tradition that continues on Rue Bergère. Paris, the city of love, where there’s always room for more romance. And a restaurant living up to its name, Passionné.

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St Catherine of Alexandria’s Church + St Mary the Virgin’s Church Littlehampton West Sussex

Larks Ascending

Both are named after female Christian saints. Both are Grade II Listed. They are separated by a 300 metre distance as the dove flies. They are separated by more or less six decades of history. One is built of rubblestone with ashlar dressings. The other is built of purplish brick with sharp stone dressings. Elizabeth Williamson, Tim Hudson, Jeremy Musson and Ian Nairn record in The Buildings of England Sussex West, 2019, “Littlehampton is pleasant, but, like most West Sussex seaside towns, disjointed. The joy of it is in the landscape of river and beach.” Between said port and resort lie the Roman Catholic Church of St Catherine of Alexandria and the Anglican Church of St Mary the Virgin, two of Littlehampton’s rather discrete charms.

St Catherine’s was founded by Minna, Dowager Duchess of Norfolk, in memory of her husband Henry, the 14th Duke, who had died in 1860. It is one of five churches founded by the Dowager to commemorate the Five Holy Wounds. Architectural historian Dr Roderick O’Donnell explains, “St Catherine’s was designed by Matthew Ellison Hadfield and is one of the most prominent Roman Catholic churches on the south coast. Augustus Welby Pugin compliments the architect in 1843 and 1850.” The architectural style is, of course, Gothic Revival.

The church forms a very attractive pairing with its priest’s house by the same architect. The modulations of the slate roofs are particularly remarkable, from a stonking big bellcote to a thoroughly traceried gablet of timber framed trefoils and quatrefoils. Later additions include St Joseph’s Chapel and a sanctuary extension, both carried out by Pugin and Pugin, the practice established by Augustus Welby Pugin and continued by his descendants. St Catherine’s Church and Presbytery retain their architectural integrity, providing a dignified focal point to the mainly residential suburb of Beach Road.

Further inland on Church Street is the Parish Church of St Mary the Virgin. Originally a Georgian Gothick church designed by George Draper in 1826, architect William Randoll Blacking transformed the building in the 1930s. The result is a robust piece of loosely Tudor Revival architecture: a simple, bold, geometric composition. Various elements of earlier incarnations have been retained in the structure, such as stained glass from the 14th and 19th centuries, but the overall effect is a solid and coherent piece of early 20th century ecclesiastical architecture. A striking copper roof, hidden at ground level by a parapet, highlights its cruciform shape from a dove’s eye view. St Mary’s Cemetery drapes a welcome green apron around the church.

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The Spell + Roupell Street London

A Street Named Desire

Roupell Street Conservation Area Waterloo London Aerials View © Lavender's Blue Stuart Blakley

Gazing at a house on Roupell Street, any house, lucky number seven, luckless number 13, before a visit to The King’s Arms (crammed Monday to Friday; only the fireside cat for company at the weekend), after a visit to The King’s Arms, summer and smoke, makes us think of that part in Alan Hollingsworth’s novel The Spell when, in the grips of his first ecstasy experience, Robin Woodfield realises why house music is so called: “Because you want to live in it.” Or there’s the picture of a house in the photographic journal Camera Lucida which Roland Barthes captions, simply and perfectly, “I want to live there.” It’s a shortcut to The Cut; thespians acting at the Old Vic, acting up at the New Vic.

Roupell Street Conservation Area Waterloo London Chimneys © Lavender's Blue Stuart Blakley

A grid, a toast rack, a tightknit urban grain, a bacchanalian bout of Augustan nostalgia, a traditional survival in an otherwise redeveloped postcode. Roupell Street runs parallel with both Theed Street and Whittlesey Street to the north and Brad Street to the south – all traversed by Windmill Walk. The early 19th century terraced houses, once unremarkable by their compact ubiquity, now listed for their intact rarity, a lesson in brick for planners and architects and citizens. The original artisan workers have long gone, replaced by harrumphing gazumping bankers, boorish bourgeoning bourgeois, collars swapped from blue to white. Modest houses bought with immodest bonuses. All too apropos, the property developer Mr Roupell moonlighted as a gold refiner.

Roupell Street Conservation Area Waterloo London Gables © Lavender's Blue Stuart Blakley

Ian Nairn where else but in Nairn’s London wrote: “Here is true architectural purity… nothing but yellow London brick and unselfconscious self respect. Whittlesey Street is… two storeys made into three with a blind attic window concealing a monopitch roof of pantiles. Roupell Street answers with a wavy pattern. On one level there is no finer architectural effect in London.” Stock brick darkened by soot over the passage of time, closer in colour now to the Welsh roof slates – accidental homogeneity. Originally the frames of the timber sash windows holding mouth blown hand spun glass would’ve been painted black; they’re all white now. Solid to void relationships are perpendicularly predictable, correctly so. A pleasing wallage to window is maintained.

Roupell Street Conservation Area Waterloo London Bollards © Lavender's Blue Stuart Blakley

Roupell Street Conservation Area Waterloo London © Lavender's Blue Stuart Blakley

Roupell Street Conservation Area Waterloo London Terrace © Lavender's Blue Stuart Blakley

Roupell Street Conservation Area Waterloo London Wittlesey Street © Lavender's Blue Stuart Blakley

Roupell Street Waterloo © Lavender's Blue Stuart Blakley_edited-1

Roupell Street Conservation Area Waterloo London Theed Street © Lavender's Blue Stuart Blakley

Roupell Street Conservation Area Waterloo London Flank © Lavender's Blue Stuart Blakley

Roupell Street Conservation Area Waterloo London Shopfront © Lavender's Blue Stuart Blakley

Roupell Street Conservation Area Waterloo London House © Lavender's Blue Stuart Blakley

Who says repetition is monotonous? Who says repetition is monotonous? It creates rhythm. And order. Strength and safety in numbers, arithmetical progression. Ah… the terrace. That arrangement of buildings enjoying continuity intimacy, expressing conscious couplings by the noblest concepts of civic design. The two bay houses of Roupell Street coincidentally correspond to the height and width of the arches of the massive railway viaduct which ponderously plods its elephantine progress across this patch, carrying wistful commuters longing to live in this coveted corner of SE1. Each house has a butterfly roof with two pitches nosediving into a central valley gutter that drains to the rear. The gables on the grander three bay Theed Street and Whittlesey Street houses are hidden behind one continuous high, no make that very high, stone coped parapet with three blind mice windows. Mono pitched roofs descend into cat-on-a-hot-tin-slide returns.

Roupell Street Conservation Area Waterloo London Yard © Lavender's Blue Stuart Blakley

Character is derived from uniformity and regularity of appearance. Regimented form contributes to cohesive sense of place, place having lost its definite article. Come closer. Character is also derived from the quiet details. Draw nearer. Stucco cornices and pediments, arches over openings, half moon fanlights, iron knockers, tall chimneys holding slender pots shrouded in a spider’s web of aerials, striped bollards guarding granite kerbs like Lilliputian lighthouses.

Roupell Street Conservation Area Waterloo London Door © Lavender's Blue Stuart Blakley

“The period of domestic architecture from which of all others we have most to learn is the Georgian,” ponders Trystan Edwards in his textbook Architectural Style. “The essential modernity of the Georgian style should be widely recognised. If we do not derive full benefits from this tradition, the failure will certainly be justified by the extremely disputable suggestion that such a manner of building is unsuitable to our present social circumstances. Its reliance on the virtue and dignity of proportions only, and its rare bursts of exquisite detail, all expressed as no other style has done, that indifference to self advertisement, that quiet assumption of our own worth, and that sudden vein of lyric affection, which have given us our part in civilisation.” Houses built to last. Roupell Street – so Georgian; so English; so reticent, gentlemanly and polite; abstracted; understated classical authority; so not suburban; so not Poundbury; so real. Hark, it’s the architecture’s Camino Way to Santa Barbara.

Roupell Street Conservation Area Waterloo London Bootscraper © Lavender's Blue Stuart Blakley

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Hôtel Charles V + St Paul Le Marais Paris

De Temps en Temps

St Paul Architecture Paris © Lavender's Blue Stuart Blakley

Continuing the bookending theme of a year well spent: Easter in George V, Christmas in Charles V. The former, westward upstream of Notre Dame; the latter, eastward downstream. One, extrovert art deco; the other, discreet Swedish rococo. Charles V Hôtel is in St Paul, a village embedded in the city between the River Seine and Rue St Antoine. It’s on the site of Hôtel St Pol built by Charles the Wise in the 14th century. Even back then, St Paul was super fashionable. Later hôtels particuliers there are aplenty. Within a polished stone’s throw of Hôtel Charles V are Hôtel d’Aumont (now offices), Hôtel de Sens (now a library) and Hôtel Hénault de Cantobre (now European House of Photography). Next door to Hôtel Charles V is La Mâle d’Effeenne, fashion designer and visual consultant Nico Thibault Francioni’s treasure trove of a shop. Nico calls it a “univers de choix”. Ian Nairn wrote in his eponymous guide to the French Capital: “Paris is a collective masterpiece, perhaps the greatest in the world.” St Paul is a sophisticated slice of that masterpiece. Hôtel Charles V (petit boutique five storeys with just two to six bedrooms per floor) adds some fairy dust. Bises de Paris.

St Paul Rue Paris © Lavender's Blue Stuart Blakley

St Paul Bistro Paris © Lavender's Blue Stuart Blakley

St Paul Hotel Charles V Paris © Lavender's Blue Stuart Blakley

St Paul Hotel Charles V Foyer © Lavender's Blue Stuart Blakley

St Paul Hotel Charles V Sitting Room Paris © Lavender's Blue Stuart Blakley

St Paul Hotel Charles V Terrace Paris © Lavender's Blue Stuart Blakley

St Paul Hotel Charles V Dining Paris © Lavender's Blue Stuart Blakley

St Paul Hotel Charles V Fireplace Paris © Lavender's Blue Stuart Blakley

St Paul Hotel Charles V Madonna Paris © Lavender's Blue Stuart Blakley

St Paul Hotel Charles V Bed Paris © Lavender's Blue Stuart Blakley

St Paul Hotel de Sens Paris © Lavender's Blue Stuart Blakley

St Paul Hotel d'Aumont Paris © Lavender's Blue Stuart Blakley

St Paul Hotel Henault de Cantobre Paris © Lavender's Blue Stuart Blakley

St Paul La Male d'Effeenne Decorations Paris © Lavender's Blue Stuart Blakley

St Paul La Male d'Effeenne Paris © Lavender's Blue Stuart Blakley

St Paul La Male d'Effeenne Present Paris © Lavender's Blue Stuart Blakley