REVIEW OF RAOULS RESTAURANT CLIFTON RD If there's one word that springs to mind to describe my experience of this place, then it has to be 'anticlimax'. Allow me to explain As you've probably gathered by now if youve read any of my other reviews, I've grown up in Maida Vale and so these local restaurants/eateries have been pretty much part of my visual landscape for almost two decades now. When you see something over and over day in day out, it begins to weave itself into the tapestry of your life, more than often, being something that you just take for granted, visually that is. Think of any road you may walk down every day in your life. Have you ever stopped to study each and every door and building and object that lies along the way? Because I can assure you, you will be surprised at what you might find. Things you've been walking past for years, that you never knew existed. To give a very diluted example of this, I only recently noticed by accident, that each and every black baluster making up the long line of balustrade that runs the full length of Hyde Park adjacent to Rotten Row separating the row from the cycle path, has written on it, names of deceased people. The names are written in black in the same colour as the balustrade, so unless you actually bend over and take a good look at them, it's hardly noticeable. And this is not advisable, because you will probably end up with your name on one of them too, having been mowed down by one of the oncoming cyclists. Not the best of examples (I can think of loads more, like the river that runs in the air right through Sloane Sq tube station), but still, it illustrates how we just take things for granted, without ever really truly knowing (or more accurately, bothering ourselves to know) what lurks behind the facade that lines our streets. For me, Raouls cafe was just this; one of the few jewel-like corner-stones that laid the foundations down for the character and soul of the now-ruined Clifton Rd, in Little Venice; along with Vickis cafe (now Molly's!) across the way, the now non-existent Post office on the corner (the decommissioning of this place was simply a crime), Superfoods, a beautifully quaint, spotless, gleaming 1950's American styled supermarket (complete with background chiming music) that was gobbled up by Tescos around 2004, Cullens, residing just next door, the perfect antidote to the sterilized feel of commercialized supermarket shopping, and the two newsagents that flanked the supermarkets on either side. Raouls was (and still is) Little Venice's flagship restaurant. One of it's remarkable qualities, is that it has this wonderful chameleon-like ability to change it's form, function and guise during the course of the day. In the mornings (I believe this is the best time to experience what Raouls has to offer), it's like one of those New York style breakfast bashers, serving up good quality morning grub (so I've gathered). At lunchtime it magically turns into a bistro! De-deer! Filled with Little Venician mothers nattering away at each other like there's no tomorrow, using words like 'parsimonious'; a smattering of MaidaVale glitterati; local business people etc grabbing a bite to eat whilst simultaneously doing business verbally; and the obligatory local St John's Wood/Maidavale 'rich folk' whiling away their free time (and daddy's money) whilst casually sipping away at the current fashionable version of a particular style of coffee. Come late afternoon, Raouls suffers a slight bout of multiple-personality-disorder, it doesn't know which way to turn, having a bit of a problem deciding whether or not to remain as restaurant for the remainder of the day, or slip back into it's cafeteria attire for a couple of hours or so. Food is available all day, but I think afternoons is teatime here, to be honest. Then in the evening, its full-on restaurant time, right up until last orders which is around 10.30pm to 11pm. I had a meal here once, through no choice of my own. My father was renovating his house round the corner and it was temporarily gutted out. We'd been living off takeaways for weeks, and were bored of the same ones, so we decided to try Raouls out, reluctantly may I add; for the first time in twenty years. I'd been there a couple of times before with my mum, but just for a glass of wine or something like that, not food. We were late, and so scurried down the hill to try and make it in time. As usual, the place was packed out and really bustling. The sonourous blend of clinking and clanking coupled with the mild roar of alcohol induced conversation completely blasted me the second I opened the front door; not to mention the accompanying gust of stares, and the gust of wind that followed it, blowing my Beatles hairbob into a freshly erected Amy Winehouse bouffant, plastering my innocent looking physiognomy backwards by a millimeter or two, like I had just recovered from a facelift whilst simultaneously accelerating from 0-2000mph in read more
