A more british institution than London’s The Connaught hotel in Mayfair you’d be hard-pressed to find. Its origin dates to 1815, when the Duke of Westminster opened the hotel in one of two houses he owned, naming it Saxe-Coburg Hotel. A century later, it was renamed The Connaught after Queen Victoria’s seventh child Arthur, the Duke of Connaught. In 1992, Queen Elizabeth II visited the hotel to open its new kitchens.
While linked to British royalty, The Connaught equally has French connections. Most notably in the form of French President Charles de Gaulle who, in 1940, made room 103 his residence, from which he ventured forth to meet Allied commanders. But also, in the form of guest Princess Grace of Monaco, and former head chef Michel Bourdin, whose service lasted 26 years. For the past 17 years, The Connaught’s most notable nod to all things Gallic takes the form of Hélène Darroze at The Connaught – one of only six three-Michelin-starred restaurants in the city.
Born in Southwestern France in the late 1960s, Hélène Darroze is a fourth-generation chef from a family who owned and ran a restaurant in Villeneuve-de-Marsan. Following a business degree, and with an interest in restaurant operations, Darroze cut her teeth working at Alain Ducasse’s Le Louis XV where, impressed by her palate, he persuaded her to spend time in the kitchen. Thereafter, following several years working in her father’s restaurant, Darroze moved to Paris in 1999, where she opened her first restaurant. A quarter century later, and Darroze presides over four restaurants, has served as a judge on French TV’s Top Chef, has published several books, and inspired both the character of Colette in Ratatouille and Mattel’s Barbie Chef. She’s previously been named The World’s Best Female Chef, and has six Michelin stars tucked beneath her apron.
It’s with these accomplishments and accolades in mind that I arrive for an invitation to lunch at Hélène Darroze at The Connaught. I’m immediately struck by the refined beauty of interior architect Pierre Yovanovitch’s design. ‘I can’t change the décor as often as I do my menus, so it was important to create an environment that was reflective of myself, as I want my guests to feel welcome in my home,’ Darroze says of the space, with its oak-panelled walls and a colour palette of pastel pinks and greens offset by bold red and tan. Moving between leather chairs and curved banquettes in rich velvet, an attentive army of waiters attend to diners. Their uniforms – as bespoke as ceramicist Ema Pradère’s handmade consommé bowls used at the start of each dining experience – have a vintage aesthetic; the men in widelapelled slate-grey suits, and the women wearing flowing pink and cherry-red dresses. I can’t help but think there’s a touch of Wes Anderson at play.
Darroze’s dishes celebrate a marriage of terroir and memory – her own, as well the nostalgia of her diners. ‘Every dish I have ever created is part of who I am; not just of my work and travels, but also of my family and teams, past and present, and of the incredible artisanal suppliers I have come to know and respect.’ Her trusted suppliers, both on British and French soil, are responsible for many of the ingredients in my meal, like asparagus cultivated in Pertuis, north of Aix-en-Provence, Dorset snails, and a white wine that hails from Eastern France’s Jura region. ‘My biggest inspiration is the Basque country and Les Landes, where I grew up. It’s the foundation of my cuisine,’ she says. ‘I’ve always been surrounded by amazing ingredients. It gave me the constant desire to give happiness through food.’
My lunchtime happiness takes the form of a delicate white asparagus velouté, followed by tender, tasty chicken-and-rabbit vol-au-vent. Both are part of a three-course offering, since replaced by the restaurant’s summer menu, which includes one of Darroze’s signature dishes, rum baba. ‘Baba au rhum is a quintessential French dessert and something I maintain across all my restaurants. At The Connaught, I serve the baba soaked in my family’s Armagnac, and with a seasonal fruit such as British rhubarb, strawberries or apples.’
My lunch concludes with the ultimate treat – an unexpected visit to the subterranean kitchen. Unlike Ratatouille’s kitchen action or, more recently, The Bear’s noisy cooks, the staff here are silently efficient. ‘The team is, of course, part of the magic,’ Darroze says. ‘I have a very stable and loyal team who completely embrace my cuisine, my vision, and I can count on them to relay who I am.’ From the chef’s-table alcove, I have a front-row seat across the industrial space. Impossible to miss is an enormous marble island (so weighty it required specialist craning to place) where plating occurs. Its curved form in the otherwise stainlesssteel space is much like Darroze, a memorable feminine presence in an industry largely dominated by men.
