The real French embassy is a restaurant

Semper eadem. There is some basement in a Mayfair street that is forever France. It is not far from the American embassy, a strong candidate for the all-time monstrous carbuncle award. Bad enough that it should ever have been built: worse still, some ‘architects’ want to preserve it. Its menacing hideousness has made a significant contribution to the growth of anti-American sentiment in modern Britain.

Only a hundred yards away, there is an unpretentious building. No disrespect to successive French ambassadors in London, who have made heroic efforts to put the best possible gloss on a failed state, but Le Gavroche has done more than diplomacy ever could to justify the ways of France to Britain and to persuade the rosbifs that they order some matters better in France. London restaurants come and go. Their fame illuminates the sky, like a firework display. In many cases, like fireworks, it ends in cinders. But Le Gavroche is a splendid exception. Impervious to fashion, it sails on in serene self-confidence, producing classic French food. Moreover, if you can chain yourself to the mast, ignoring siren songs tempting you to go off-piste and melt the -plastic, the lunchtime set menu is one of the world’s greatest bargains.

I was there to help Mark Walford taste some recently released Le Soula. I praised the wine in one of my earliest columns, and that is one judgment which I do not regret (nor will anyone who bought some). It just gets better and better. The 2009 white was superb. Gracious, lingering seductively on the palate during a glissade of a finish, this is a wine which would stand up to a very serious white Burgundy. Fine now, it will still be a delight in ten years’ time, and may be another ten after that.