The best night of my life?

It’s not often that I am reluctant to write about something, but the evening I went to Colbert and then saw Skyfall is proving difficult. There is just….too much to say. Too many emotions. Too little time. A café that could have been in Paris followed by a Bond film is just so much my perfect evening that I can’t even think about it clearly. When you add in the fact I went with my long-standing restaurant companion who is emigrating to the Middle East in under a month it becomes just about unbearable.

For all of that, I remain convinced you want to hear what I thought. Much like the megalomaniac Dr. No treating James and Honey to his life history whilst they try to eat their supper before getting to the ‘might end in death, might actually escape quite easily’ part of the evening.

So. Colbert. A very exciting event, because not only is it French French French, but it is a Corbin/King (Wolseley, Delaunay, Zédel) French French French, which means it looks like a film set from Piaf.

Due to our pressing appointment with Mr Bond at 9pm, we had booked for 6.30, and when we arrived it was already buzzing. It has been billed as an all-day neighbourhood café and appears to be doing the job. A booking for dinner at the early time of 6.30pm had clearly rung alarm bells of ‘elderly Chelsea dowager’ in the heads of the absolutely lovely team, and my friend and I hilariously found ourselves sitting between two incredibly glamorously coiffed and lacquered women of a certain age, and their silver haired dining partners.

To one side, the diamond-laden lady ordered 3 martinis ‘extra strong’ and complained that the veal sauce was too mustardy; a nuance I imagine it’s difficult to detect after half a litre of Grey Goose. Her husband patiently sipped water and made wry asides. On our other side, the couple drank champagne and wore velvet. It was incredible. Both parties kept up a running commentary on our food choices, wine choices, life choices and film choices throughout. Like your grandparents, but more fun. I highly recommend always eating at this time of the evening.

My friend and I had made a resolution that we would only eat as Bond would eat, which is not that difficult because he spends almost all of the books eating a lot. To give Fleming his due, possibly the only way you could ever describe him or Bond as modern men are in the sustainability of their eating habits.

The books don’t have that Mad Men thing of constant boozing and long lunches. Yes, Bond drinks a lot but his food tastes are conservative and, for the most part, frugal. At work he eats in the canteen. At home, he has a lot of eggs and coffee. When out with M, it’s lamb cutlets, grilled sole and English vegetables in season, and when on assignment it’s whatever is local (he bemoans extortionate French roadside cafés, loves the bouillabaisse in Marseilles, hates the breakfasts in Istanbul and has the best meal of his life in the States - stone crabs and drawn butter). The main exception to the above is that he has caviar with Vesper, but I like to think that’s because she’s his one true love and a bit of a bitch so he was trying to impress her.

To labour the point even further, I think Bond would have liked Colbert. The atmosphere is overwhelmingly lovely and, to be totally honest, the food plays second fiddle to that; but it is simple and good, and has a lot of omelettes.

We shared 12 oysters to start, which were sparklingly fresh but a bit gritty, and then I had steak tartare which tasted like steak tartare (no criticism intended), and my friend had the Croque Raclette. The croque was particularly delicious, which backs up the ‘all day neighbourhood café’ vibe.

We finished it all up with some madeleines and Muscadet, paid a bill which could have been cheaper if we hadn’t ‘gone Bond’ and had vodka as we sat down, and tottered off to the cinema for the best 2.5 hours of this year.

This place is special. Go for a coffee and a croissant first thing, grab an omelette for lunch, drop in for a kir on your way home.

www.colbertchelsea.com

I will leave you with the thought that the scene in ‘A View to a Kill’ where Roger Moore bakes a quiche led to him becoming spokesperson for the British Quiche Council.