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30 November 2010

To pig trot or not? That is the question

So apparently when Gus Herdman drinks Grappa, his nipples get rock hard. He demonstrated this at the Trim Christmas Supper club (no.3) held at Bistro Bruno Loubet. But before I divulge in how hard his nipples get, lets rewind 3 courses and several bottles of wine.

Located at the Zetter hotel, Bistro Bruno Loubet is a curved relaxed eating venture, serving rich and refined french dishes. The menu reads like a dream, causing salivation before the warm bread has even arrived. After much deliberation and discussion over the virtues of stuffed pigs trotters, half of us decided to stick to Bruno's signature starter dish of snail and meatballs served with a mushroom mousse. The juicy umami morsels were enrobed in a rich tomato sauce offset by a smooth mousse topped with pesto. A very very good dish, only slightly setback by a Dolmio nostalgia. Beating the piggy balls and snails was Ross's faultless animalistic dish of foie gras, pheasant and duck liver terrine. Gus and Naz went for 'lady' starters of Salmon with chilled borscht and ratatouille and octopus salad. Both delicately flavoured, yummy and reminiscent of Summer.

The signature main dish of Hare Royale, served with posh macaroni cheese was unbelievably tender, rich and flavoursome. Topped with a slither of foie gras, this unassuming creation was worthy of sitting upon a shrine and worshipped till your arteries were clogged with pleasure. Dom's pheasant crepinette served with turnip confit and elderberry sauce was a glorious christmas carol whilst Gus's Duck confit with honey and dukkah was an 'eh' tasty dish. Ross and Naz both went for fish, Cod and Gurnard...honestly cant remember much about them but apparently the Cod was good and the Gurnard was not.

With everyone stuffed, we decided to venture into the sweet land. The land that both Paul and Tom have recently terminated themselves from due to fashionable diets. In a greedy approach, we ordered all the desserts on the menu; a dreamy chocolate marquise, a secretly tantalising glazed quince served with a green peppercorn ice cream, a curious self-saucing passion fruit pudding, a moorish nougat glace, and a crap apple and blackberry Clerkenwell mess. Crap, because it wasn't a mess but more of a compote and who the hell wants to eat compote for dessert?!

So all in all a wonderful, rich, cockle warming meal that ended with some grappa for Gus, giving him a nipple chaffing extravaganza. Also did I mention that Marcus Wareing was sitting opposite us and all he ate was some lettuce and half a bottle of red wine?

86-88 Clerkenwell Rd City of London EC1M 5RJ