Deadly Serious This Time

At 32 Great Queen Street in London, there is a restaurant called -- imaginatively enough -- 32 Great Queen Street. We just ate Sunday lunch there; the confit duck was probably the single best dish I have ever eaten (and I have eaten at 1-Michelin-star places before, if not 2- or 3-). You know the bit in Ratatouille where the critic gets hit between the eyes with 50 years of poignant remembrance, all at once? It was like that.

My starter, a brawn and ham hock terrine, was less inspired -- and, in my unlettered opinion, should have had the mustardy stuff on one side (not drizzled over the top) -- but the puddings more than made up for it: both the chocolate tart and the Muscat caramel cream were delightful.

Guest ale was pretty nice too, I thought, but I don't actually know a good ale from a hole in the ground, so YMMV.

You can book and you probably should, although it didn't quite fill up while we were there.