REVIEW - Urchin Bistro

I don't know if recently-opened places experience a drop in standards - food and service, or whether there's a natural drop in enthusiasm from the public, or whether food critics are as prone to hyperbole about a new restaurant as the bulk of the City's laughing-gas-snorting restaurant goers.

Whatever it was, it's hard to explain what all the fuss was about Urchin Bistro when it opened a couple months ago.

Pavey ordered Kale Salad, with duck confit, quinoa, comte cheese, and citrus vinaigrette (why, oh why the lady continues to order Kale anything when it's consistently dull). I had the Gnocchi Parisienne, with fava beans, smoked bacon, and forest mushrooms. Score, Pavey 0 : Philip 1.

Our entrees were blah. She had the Grilled Free Range Chicken, with Spaetzle, foie gras butter, and peas (I refuse to use the restaurant nomenclature of 'English' peas, as peas are peas, and these weren't flown in from England). I had the Steak Frites, with vin rouge butter. Neither dish was particularly French, and neither was particularly standout. Score, Pavey 0 : Philip 0.

Perhaps the fact that we were seated upstairs, when all the atmosphere seemed downstairs, made the whole a so-so affair, and one we're unlikely to go for again.