The Delauney, shamelessly channelling Mitteleuropa in a pop video way that only London does, is best known as the hangout of West End luvvies and suburban fans up to London for a slap-up meal. That hardly means its not worth the effort.
The Delaunay is an anomaly in London's Aldwych. It's not attached to any heritage hotel on this still reputable end of the Strand as one might expect. But it is conveniently located a hop, skip and jazz hands jump from London's theatre heartland. This probably explains why it so rapidly developed a reputation as a sighting spot for renowned British thespians. The frothy fan pages fail to mention that they're almost always there, ball-breaking agents at their sides, knocking up some deal or another later to explode as theatrical dynamite and never to really party. Basically it's a theatrical business lunch venue.
That said, it's not what drew me there in the first place. Rather, it was the recommendation of a German friend in response to my lamenting the passing of one of the few places in London one could find quality German(ic) comfort food.
Not long after my solo exploratory expedition, it became something of a regular go-to option, mostly at my insistence. It is, of course, an entirely Anglo commodification of a traditional European grand café. With it's name vaguely suggestive of the Parisian avant-garde duo and menu offering a well-heeled pre-WWII English tourists' version of fare found in Vienna, Munich or Prague, it's entirely pastiche; mise-en-scène in a large dining room. If that sounds bitchy, only part of it is.
The reality is, arguments about "authenticity" aside, the dishes it offers are very credible and, more importantly, delicious renditions of the classic European dishes it appropriates. You'll hear no complaints from me about the quality of its flammkuchen, sausages or sauerkraut.
So, it's a bit odd that I always seem to end up there somewhat hungover: with my partner Luc after a buoyant birthday celebration the night before; with my partner-in-crime writer Sarah; with theatrical luvvie Brian; and with my friend Daphne (okay, so Luc and I weren't hungover on that occasion).
But, I wonder, does this make it more authentic? Does this clearly set-designed interior somehow channel a Viennese Secession vibe that makes me need to be hungover to feel like I fit in, as some kind of apology for a bohemian of the period? Am I, like the actors with whom I rub shoulders, simply playing the role of "arty"?
Yeah, whatever, moving on... Quite aside from the really excellent dishes in that unique palate of Mitteleuropa, it is also one of the few dining rooms in central London that offers wines from some regions that are too sadly unrepresented here.
One of the reasons I love the place includes its inclusion of Slovenian wines on the wine list. And. yes. I'm sure there will be a separate post and more on this topic. On more than one occasion we have had excellent Slovenian whites—yes, even with sausages—such as this Puklavec Family Furmint Pinot Blanc .
Comentarios