The White Swan, Fetter Lane

I am pleased to report that salt is making a comeback. For years it seemed this staple seasoning (for most of us of a certain age) was on the way to being banned from cooking altogether.

We all heard the arguments as salt was blamed for everything from obesity to diabetes, with a healthy (or not) does of high cholesterol thrown in. The knock-on effect was that people stopped cooking with it. Not only did you get meat without seasoning, but things like chips were served sans salt. Surely a sign that the world was going mad. To be fair, you could argue that in many cases salt was being used to hide cooking sins - particularly in the pub industry - rather then enhance dishes. However, it is no coincidence that the revival of seasoning happened at the same time as the rise of the British gastropub.

And arguably the best components of this now-established form of dining are the Martin brothers, Tom and Ed. These guys are the dream team behind such gems as The Botanist in Sloane Square, the Gun in the Docklands and the recently opened (and reviewed) Chiswell Street Dining rooms.

However, my first experience of the sibling's magic touch was the White Swan near Fleet Street. And it was with pleasure that the Northerner and I took a stroll down memory (or in this case Fetter) lane to revisit the Swan. Housed in what used to be the Mucky Duck pub, which was as good as it sounds, the Martins transformed the White Swan into a stylish drinking and eating establishment. Dark brown woods and snug booths give the downstairs pub an almost rural feel. You half expect a group of ramblers rather then local barristers to drop by. In the upstairs restaurant, lighter shades of white, crisp linen-topped tables, and iron-framed windows make it feel like a public school dining room, albeit without the stuffiness.

But it was the food that first brought us here all those years ago, and again it didn’t disappoint.

The Northerner started with the fine tart of mackerel, baby onions, black olive tapenade and balsamic, which was sharp and wonderfully, well, tart. I went for the Crubeens - an Irish food made of boiled pigs' feet deep fried and crumbed (in case you’re wondering), which came with sauce gribiche, endive and fried quails eggs. These were perfect in texture and gorgeously moreish - the quails eggs working wonderfully with the rich pork meat.

For mains I opted for the slow-cooked lamb, smoked anchovy, cos lettuce and pheasants eggs. To my surprise this came served in the style of a Caesar salad, but certainly didn’t lose anything as a result. To the contrary the lamb, lettuce, egg and anchovy combination was delicious and it benefited from the lightness of its salad style. The Northerner had the lightly poached sea trout, peas, bacon, baby onions, lettuce and pea shoots. The trout fillet was steak-like in size, and cooked to pink perfection. The accompanying sauce was by her palette a little salty (did I mention seasoning had made a comeback?) but flavoursome nevertheless. We shared an Eton Mess for dessert (in keeping with the public school theme) which was fruity and not too sweet - a common flaw with this particular concoction. We drank a bottle of Salice Salentino 2006 which was light and spicy, and the perfect complement to our meal.

The staff were charm personified, and so considerate that they even asked if we wanted them to ask some of the other diners to keep quiet. It makes a change from us, opined the Northerner. The ambience is formal and slightly stilted, and while we had a lovely time, you’d be hard pressed to claim it is romantic. I think a little bit more in the way of background or mood music wouldn’t go astray. Perhaps the White Swan is missing what its food so obviously has: a little bit of seasoning.

The Drift, Bishopsgate

Isn’t London just so New York nowadays? And I’m not just talking about the increase in diners, coffee shops and Jewish-styled delis, but the skyline, which amongst other things, has made the opening shots of The Apprentice such compulsive viewing.

The latest addition to the cityscape is the Heron Tower on Bishopsgate, which is a stones throw from Liverpool Street Station. At 46 floors and striking to look at, the Heron wouldn’t look out of place in the Big Apple. (OK, so it’s a little small by US standards). And, of course, with a new building comes a new venue - in this case, The Drift Bar.

The Drift has been brought to us by Drake and Morgan, the team behind the roaring successes that are the Folly, Parlour, Refinery and Anthologist bars. Spread over two floors, the Drift follows their template of industrial style décor and fittings - with heavy lashings of stainless steel softened by the dark brown furniture. Floor to (high) ceiling windows complete the urban affect, but it still manages to be warm and welcoming. The music is loud, but not in a disruptive way, and the mood is festive and buzzing. The punters are all suited and booted, enjoying London’s next big thing, and to our surprise, there was a celebrity in the house that night in the form of Pixie Lott. And no, I didn’t recognise her, but fortunately my friends are much cooler then me.

The staff, in common with the other bars, are all gorgeous in a fresh-off-the-catwalk way, and charming to go with it. They subtly up-sell their cocktail range, and are knowledgeable about the food and drinks on offer. They are a tad slow in service, and the downstairs bar in particular seemed to have more people collecting or cleaning than actually serving. But I’m sure that’s something that a logistical tweak will sort out.

We checked out the upstairs restaurant and started with an antipasto board to share, a selection of cured meats, sun-ripened tomatoes, and balsamic baby onions and marinated Puglia olives with traditional handmade breads. This was both delicious and plentiful. (Dare I say, it was a American-sized portion.) For mains, my colleague tried out the crab and crayfish linguini tossed with white wine, chilli & lemon. This was nicely cooked with generous helps of crab and crayfish. I opted for the beef burger on a toasted brioche bun with a side of slaw and fries which was good pub grub, cooked to medium-rare perfection. We were in a white wine mood and the South African Long Beach Sauvignon Blanc did the trick. But it’s a comprehensive wine list and we really should have tried some of the others. Next time, I guess.

Because there will be a next time, as the Drift’s mix of sophistication, vibrancy and industrial styling is a welcome relief in a part of town that is relatively bereft of decent drinking spots. In fact, you could say that the Drift is the sort of bar that you might find in Manhattan. And that can only be a good thing.

One New Change Champagne Bar, St Pauls

It shows the regard in which we hold Champagne in that we so often use it to describe an aspirational lifestyle. By which, we normally mean hobnobbing with celebs at openings or private members club, dining at the finest restaurants, and travelling first class.

It's amazing that what is essentially a bottle of alcohol has so many positive connotations attached to it. I mean, when did you ever hear anyone talk about a Pinot Noir lifestyle, or Sauvignon Blanc? The only other good appropriation of alcohol to describe someone that I can think of is lager lout. And that is hardly complimentary.

But Champagne has pulled off the unique trick of becoming more accessible, yet remaining exclusive. And a key factor in this has been the emergence of Champagne bars as a venue in their own right. A relative newcomer to this game is The Champagne Bar in One New Change – the posh new shopping mall next to St Paul’s.

The Champagne bar is brought to us by Searcys; the group that has the sister bar in Paddington Station and are also behind 40/30 in the Gherkin. Occupying a corner inside the first floor of the mall, The Champagne Bar is elegant and vibrant. The bar itself sits at the centre, adorned with champagne glasses (what else?) and encircled by cream leather high stools. Dark brown wooden floor tiles are offset by light brown furnishings, which are broken up by exposed dark brickwork. Soft mood lighting completes the affect, which is almost romantic, although the Northerner thought it felt more like a hotel bar.

The staff are incredibly charming and knowledgeable, which is just as well given the extensive drinks menu. Eschewing the cocktail variations of the fizzy stuff, we took their advice and sampled a few champagnes by the glass. Given that we prefer the dry stuff, our charming host recommended the Brut – Lanson Black Label to be exact, which was a delicious drop – dry and biscuit-like. We then went on to the Vintage stuff. The Lanson Gold Label Vintage 1999 is 49% Chardonnay and 51% Pinot Noir, and was quite stunning. While I wouldn’t go as far as to call our palates sophisticated, even we were able to detect the honeyed finish. Delicious.

The Northerner then tried another Vintage Lanson Gold Label Brut 1999, while I gave the Bruno Paillard Brut Premiere Cuvee NV a whirl. Both of which were very good, but paled in comparison to the stunning Gold Label Vintage we’d tried earlier.

To eat we had a few of the nibbles – chorizo, caprese, almonds, French sausages - which were lovely, if not a little small in plate size. We also shared the roast duck with mash, which was melt-in-your-mouth perfect, and compensated for the sizing issues of the platters.

As expected, the Champagne Bar isn’t cheap, but with drinks by the glass ranging from £8.50 to £13.50, it’s hardly extortionate. But perhaps I’ve worked in the City for too long.

The place where the Champagne Bar doesn’t quite work is in its location. A lovely little bar is made to feel not quite so special when you are sitting across from the likes of the North Face, Eat and Banana Republic. This is by no means denigrating those aforementioned shops, but it reminds you that you are in a shopping mall, which is not an experience that works for everyone. It might have been better if it were on the ground floor next to Jamie Oliver's new place, and I’m sure I’m not the first person to think that.

Perhaps I’ve got it all wrong, and that the Champagne Bar is playing its part in making Champagne accessible for everyone. But maybe that’s where that other descriptor - of champagne socialist - came from.

Courtyard at 51, 51 Buckingham Gate

"Blame it on the rain," sang the much derided (but for my money, grossly under-rated) Milli Vanilli. And that’s what was going through the mind of this bar reviewer as I braved monsoon conditions en route to St James' Park to attend the preview of 51 Buckingham Gate’s Summer Courtyard of Music.

The evening definitely had promise. Marketed as The Summer Music Season, the hotel have booked a series of dinner events at which the likes of The London Quartet, and Soprano Bella will perform a selection of opera, and West End classic and contemporary musical theatre.

This is all scheduled to take place in the courtyard to the rear of the hotel, which with its cobbled paving, purple and green shrubbery, mood lighting and Victorian fountain, makes you feel like you have snuck into some posh Lord of the Manor’s back garden. So far, so very Downtown Abbey.

But sadly, the Wimbledon effect took hold in that rain delayed play. Or rather transferred us from the romantic setting of the garden to one of the formal event rooms inside the hotel.

We were welcomed by the signature '51' cocktail aperitif - Tanqueray gin shaken with grapefruit juice, and topped by what is clearly the most fashionable juice right now, in the form of St Germain elderflower liqueur. Refreshing, crisp, and packing a good alcohol punch. The three-course dinner started with a Greek salad - and for the carnivores amongst us a gin braised lamb shank in an olive passata - with char-grilled Mediterranean vegetables and a truffled herb mash as a main. It wasn’t the best lamb shank I’ve ever had in terms of flavour, however the gin braising worked a treat, and the truffled herb mash was good comfort food for the winter-like conditions. The highlight was the iced honeycomb parfait with mandarin compote, topped by confectionary bumble bees. A nice mix of sweetness and citrus sharpness.

The entertainment was West End-style fun with the London Quartet showing off their musical dexterity, and the Soprano Bella, her vocal skills. However, the highlight for this barfly was a 15-year old lad who apparently had come from Britain’s Got Talent. His renditions of Frank Sinatra and Dean Martin-style classics got the crowd tapping their shoes and singing along. So much so that they brought him back on for an encore.

So what the rain had threatened to ruin was rescued by a young man singing old classics. Not so much "Blame it on the Rain" as "Blame it on the Boogie". As you can see, there’s a good reason that I’m not a music critic.

The Chiswell Street Dining Rooms, Moorgate

There's something to be said for tapping into the start of a trend. For example, the gastropub revolution in the UK that began in the mid-nineties with the now legendary Eagle on Farringdon Road.

The Northerner and I were fortunate enough to be there (or there about) when those pioneering pubsters decided that stringy roasts and overcooked veg was not what punters were looking for. Cue French brasserie-style cooking taking a grip on the UK's pubs, and nearly every home in the country being familiar with exotic offerings such as fishcakes, Thai curries, and moule frites by the end of the nineties. The flipside of this revolution was the spawning of the gastro chains - All Bar One, Slug and Lettuce, et al. But I'll leave that particular gripe for another day.

Two of the finest proponents of what was a once derided, but now celebrated, culinary art form are Tom and Ed Martin, the brains behind the superb offerings of the Gun in Docklands, the Botanist on Sloane Square and my personal favourite, the White Swan, in Fetter Lane.

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Their latest offering is the Chiswell Street Dining Rooms in Moorgate. Housed in the original home of the Whitbread Brewery, the team have done a great job of turning what was a fairly rundown space into something quite special.

The green exterior makes it look like any other City pub. Entering from the bar side and you can see the transformation, from the leather-topped (and vibrantly busy) bar area, through to the vast dining room. Hues of green and brown dominate the interior from the polished fitted wooden floors through to the modern yellow-green leather chairs. The original windows have been restored to give them, in the words of the Northerner, a school building finish, albeit with a restaurant twist.

On the night we visited, the punters were very City, with a mix of well-heeled Europeans who were probably staying at the connected hotel. The waiting staff were charm personified and very good looking to boot. I know it shouldn’t make a difference, but it does.

The Northerner started with potted ham hock, parsley and baby gherkins which was rich but light, perfectly seasoned and filling. I went for the Lincolnshire smoked eel, with celeriac remoulade, Charlotte potatoes and beetroot. The eel was simply fabulous and the sweetness of the beetroot complemented it perfectly. For mains, the Northerner had the grilled Cornish sole with dill butter and tender stem broccoli which was moist and melt-in-your-mouth in texture. I went for the stuffed Middlewhite pork loin, accompanied by Clonakilty black and white pudding and a roasted Braeburn apple. The combination of these flavours worked perfectly. The pork loin was well seasoned and delicately cooked. The herb infused white pudding and blood rich black pudding were delicious. We shared a blueberry cheesecake and yoghurt for dessert which was marshmallow light and rich berry in flavour.

The charming Sommelier recommended a bottle of Shiraz from New Zealand’s Elephant Hill Estate in Hawkes Bay, which had the dryness of your big French wines, but the lightness that you usually associate with a Pinot Noir. Divine, in other words. We also started with a few cheeky champagne cocktails as you do, which were perfect aperitifs.

The Northerner and I can be a tough crowd when it comes to eating out, but we had to admit defeat on that front. There was nothing which we could criticise. Apparently it’s pulled more than 140 covers a day since it opened in early June. With the quality of food and service they deliver, you can see why. It’s good to know that some trends are here to stay.

The Chef's Table, Tetbury, Gloucestershire

For those of you who watch A Place in the Country (and the chances are that if you’re reading this, you probably do) will know that the Cotswolds rates highly as a destination for City types in search of a rural home. Commutable and chocolate box picturesque, this part of the country seems to encapsulate everything good about England, albeit in a very Richard Curtis way.

Yet it was a part of the world that neither the Northerner nor I had visited. To prove we’re nothing if not eager to try out new places, we followed ten sun-filled days swimming in the Adriatic Sea off Croatia with a weekend break in Tetbury in the heart of Gloucestershire. We were drawn to the town by the amazing art-meets-fashion ‘bed and breakfast’ that is Oak House Number 1. Owned by the charismatic and charming Gary and Nicola, you will struggle to find a more romantic place then this. And is was they who recommended, and kindly booked us into, The Chef's Table, which is run by the Michelin-star chef Michael Bedford and his wife, Sarah.

Housed in a former antiques shop (of which there are plenty, might I add), The Chef's Table combines a delicatessen/food shop/fishmongers at ground level with a bistro spread over two floors. We dined upstairs where you find an industrial-sized open kitchen where Michael and his chefs cook from a short blackboard menu.

Whetting our appetites with a cheeky glass of prosecco, and some freshly baked bread and olives, we went for the homemade prawn bhaji with a lightly spiced red lentil dhal and the Cornish lobster and pea risotto for starters. The Northerner’s bhaji was subtly spicy and worked well with the dhal. It was cooked to perfection without a trace of oiliness. My risotto saw the sweetness of the peas combining nicely with the rich flavour of lobster. It arguably lacked a little seasoning but that is being picky. For mains the Northerner went for the roasted wild halibut with broad beans, and the crab and parmesan gnocchi. The fish was moist and firm - while the gnocchi was delicious - the sharpness of the parmesan merging brilliantly with the succulent crabmeat. I went for the roasted Gressingham duck breast with confit leg, a tatin of butternut squash and a baked English onion. This turned out to be a feast-sized dish, with the confit leg and duck breast challenging my normally voracious appetite. Nevertheless it was a lovely dish for which the onion provided a sweetness that offset the game flavours of the duck. For dessert we went for the soufflé which was light and subtle sweet and just what we needed to round off a big eating night. We drank a bottle of the Bagordi Rioja 2008 which was superb, so much in fact that we ordered an extra glass to round off the evening. (But perhaps that’s more a reflection on us.)

The Chef's Table also offers a cooking-as-theatre experience that comes about through the bar-style seating for some of the diners. However there are no Gordon Ramsay-style tantrums here, in fact it’s the opposite with it being so calm and quiet that you don’t quite believe it’s a working kitchen. The waiting staff are friendly and helpful, as you would expect in a place of this quality, and the prices are very fair with the mains mostly falling around the mid-teens mark.

However, it is a little quiet. I know might sound an odd thing to criticise it for, but the staff seem to speak in near whispered tones, and to my memory there was no background music. So while it is a lovely place to eat, and we most certainly enjoyed ourselves, it wasn't a place full of fun.

But then again, perhaps I’ve been in London too long where you get used to noise that borders on chaotic wherever you are. Maybe the Northerner and I need to sign up for that Place in the Country.

Hawksmoor, Spitalfields

Going out with your work mates can be a challenge. Going drinking is easy. You just pick the bar that is the least offensive to the majority of the imbibers. That’s how All Bar One, Corney and Barrow and other chains operate - by offering a safe, if not slightly boring, environment. Dining with your colleagues is different.

For a start, you have to take notice of people’s dietary requirements. Do they like fish? Can then handle spicy? Are they vegetarian? Are they semi-vegetarian? (Given we work in the City I tend not to consider options for vegans.)

Then you get into the question of ambience – is it fashionable enough? Is it too fashionable? And in these credit crunched times - is it appropriate? After all, these are colleagues, not clients.

With the trend heading back towards all things carnivorous, in recent years premium brand steakhouses have thrived on serving clients, punters and colleagues alike. Arguably the best out there right now is Hawksmoor of Spitalfields, and more recently Covent Garden.

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Hawksmoor derives its name from Sir Christopher Wren’s sidekick, which implies that it’s not quite of the first order. Nothing could be further from the truth. This is a much-raved about restaurant, and with good reason.

Hawksmoor’s exterior is misleadingly anonymous, which is a long-winded way of saying that it’s understated. If it weren’t for the punters inside, you might be going into a reprographics shop rather then a restaurant. The interior is simple but pleasing. Wooden chairs and tables are packed closely together and are framed by white washed walls and exposed brickwork features. There is a long wooden bar to the rear with leather-cushioned stools packed snugly together. You’ll get to know your drinking partner quickly enough. The music is noted for its absence, but not required as the buzz of diner chat and cutlery gives it a French brasserie-style ambience.

But people are here for the food, and that’s what this review will focus on. The starters include my favourite of bone marrow and onions, delicately fried and presented with the original beef bones and toast. Soft in texture and subtle, yet offal-like in flavour. It’s not to everyone’s taste, but I love it. A companion went for the pepper squid which had been flash-fried and seasoned with chilli, salt and pepper. It packed a nice punch and was perfectly cooked.

For steaks I went for the 600g Sirloin (medium rare) which was well seasoned and melt in your mouth delicious. For the first time in my life it was too much for me to eat in one sitting. Fortunately Hawksmoor does a great ‘doggy bag'. My colleagues tried rib-eye and rump variations which were smaller but equally as flavoursome. We washed it down with a few bottles of NZ Main Divide Pinot Noir (does New Zealand do any other kind of red wine?) which was light and peppery and perfectly complementary to the mains.

The staff are friendly, casual but very efficient. Service is swift and always charming. The cocktail boys are a force in their own right. The champagne-based Hawksmoor Fizz and gin-based Bombay Double are two of their better offerings.

Despite its cusp-of-Shoreditch location, the punters are City. So much, in fact, it's why Hawksmoor has never been a favourite of the Northerner's. There are far too many bankers for her liking. But the sheer quality of the food on offer more than compensates for Hawksmoor’s City-ness. And let’s face it, at the very least you can take your colleagues there.