I came across some notes taken from a meal that I had a couple of weeks back. I recalled being quite taken by the ambiance of the place. So here you go.
Think of King's Cross St Pancras International and one thing come to mind: Paris. Just over two hours from Paris, St Pancras International is filled with passengers shuttling to and from London and continental Europe.
There is no shortage of chain cafes and restaurants in the train station. For those who can afford the time and would like to pamper themselves a bit, St Pancras International has more to offer than just the longest champange bar in Europe on Eurostar's platform - luxury comes in the form of Gilbert Scott, the residence restaurant at St Pancras Renaissance Hotel, a short stroll from the train platform.
After Wife's lunch at Gilbert Scott sometime back, we headed back again to check out its Sunday roasts. As it was a spur of the moment, we didn't make a reservation. Turned out that the dining hall was full at 1pm and we were directed to the bar instead.
It turned out to be a blessing in disguise. The bar area though less formal lost none of the opulence that Gilbert Scott has come to be known for. With a more laid back setting, we literally sank into the lounge sofa, relaxed and all ready for lunch.
Apparently, the same weekend roasts (£27 for three courses) were also served in the bar area so I decided to skip the entire menu and instead focus on that tiny section.
Omelette Arnold Bennett
Omelette Arnold Bennett kicked off the meal. Small chunks of smoked haddock were swimming in the slightly salty yet sweet Gruyere cheese. I find that having a pinch of salt usually increase my appetite for the main course. All was well with the omelette save for a bone that was embedded in the haddock. I was too preoccupied about LO stirring in her buggy to consider about what that nasty splinter would have done if it was stuck in my throat.
Pork belly roast
Great Garnetts Farm Pork Belly came up next. The only reason why I go for this is for its crackling. In case you are wondering, the pork belly's fat was soft instead of crisp. But there was a piece of crackling served separately. Two slabs of pork belly were seasoned with quince sauce with a drop of honey; the meat soaked up the fruity sweet sauce. The fatty layer didn't have much flavour in itself though. The dish was accompanied by a side of seasonal vegetable, which was fresh but otherwise plain.
Dessert was rosemary shortbread. I went for that only because the alternative - bread and butter pudding, isn't exactly my cup of tea. Well, it was shortbread, with some rosemary interspersed in it. That was pretty much it I guess.
"You have to go to the loo, it's absolutely stunning," a guy was telling his mates in a table beside us. While I wouldn't exactly say that (or maybe I was at the wrong one), you'd have to walk pass the grand staircase of the St Pancras Renaissance Hotel on your way there. Now, that, is rather pretty.
If you are looking for a place to rest your legs before catching a train at King's Cross or St Pancras International, forget jostling with the crowds for a seat at the bars and cafe in the train stations, head to Gilbert Scott's bar area for a more relaxing time instead.
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