Cafe Rouge Putney

200-204 Putney Bridge Rd, Putney SW15

Remember when Kevin Costner starts talking to his crop in the baseball movie, Field Of Dreams? Do you recall how a disembodied voice whispered something to him about “build it and they will come”? Well, Mr Rouge was clearly smoking the same corn on the cob as old Dances With Wolves when he made the decision to plonk his Café on Putney’s most lifeless stretch of road, right next to Laura Ashley. Whereas Costner’s baseball-diamond-in-the-middle-of-nowhere idea seemed to peak some interest right before the end of the movie, Mr Rouge’s idea shouldn’t have even made into the script.

Sure, Mr Rouge is known across the nation for his fantastic French fare - and quite rightly so - but the Putney Placement Decision was probably made the day after a particularly heavy ‘tasting’ session, possibly on a Sunday afternoon, just as he was having a nap, during which even his dreams were still drunk. It could be said that Café Rouge on the Putney Bridge Road has a certain rustic charm which counters the flashy, affluent riverside developments of the area, but then that’s exactly what Putney is: affluent and flashy. Were Mr Rouge to relocate to a property similar to the view-stealing Rocket restaurant, for example, things would look a lot rosier; or rouge. This is because it’s actually a very good restaurant. It’s just cursed by its bad placement.

If you’re looking for a place which offers delectable comestibles in an atmosphere that is slightly less vibrant than a graveyard, then this is your place. The music doesn’t really help matters, either; Chillout is probably not the best form of music if you’re trying to stop guests falling asleep in their Soupe à l’Oignon. If you’re adamant about eating the food - and you should be - but want to add a little bit of life to your meal, simply opt for one of the outside tables and enjoy the close proximity spectacle that is known as.....The Number 270 bus.

The interior feels a bit like an All Bar One with its wooden floors complimented by a cream and brown colour scheme. But then how many All Bar One venues can boast walls plastered with children’s drawings and a perfectly unnecessary brass revolving door? Hmmm.

OK, OK, enough with the chastisements, how about what’s really important: the food. If the decision to put the restaurant in its current location was a 1.5 on a 10-scale of brilliance, then the menu totally contradicts that, being about an 8.5. Superbly French cuisine that comes in one, and only one, flavour: rich. The French are about as good at making bland food as they are at NOT speaking in a sexy accent. It’s chains like Café Rouge and Chez Gerard that have actually stopped everyone on the south coast from moving to France permanently, thus averting a massive population-unemployment surge.

Many folk - mainly those born before time itself was invented - frequent Café Rouge for the steak. So alluring is this steak, that upon entering the establishment these people require no menu. They have one thing on their minds and if there comes a day when it’s sold out, they’ll leave and go elsewhere instead, as though the remainder of the menu didn’t exist. These people are traditionalist fools and should be forced to watch Kevin Costner’s entire back catalogue immediately. Not because they’re wrong about the steak - they’re not - but because they’re missing out the real top trump at Café Rouge: the seafood.

The succulent Loup de Mer sea bass is like wrestling with a duvet of clouds whilst lying on a bed of spinach, rocket and French beans. Equally, the Duo de Poisson crab claw meat with smoked salmon is like being tickled by all the creatures in the Bay of Biscay simultaneously. Yet the ultimate highlight on the menu has to be the Marmite Dieppoise seafood casserole, in which dory does battle with salmon does battle with mussels in a sea of buttery white wine goodness, with a wreckage of veggies floating on top whilst the good ship baguette attempts to rescue the remnants.

Before battle commences, the Champignons de Paris (mushies to us laypeople) calms the seas of war with a well balanced, creamy garlic sauce and raclette cheese topping. Alternatively - for anyone who thinks a course of skydiving will help cure their insomnia, for example - there’s the creamy Camembert au Four d’issigny Ste Mère, which roughly translates as ‘demonic voodoo poltergeist in a pot’. This dish should come with some form of health warning on the side, stating “Beware: eating this product will be enjoyable but you will never be able to kiss another human being again, ever.” Once the skin of this tomb has been pierced, all the fumes of Hades ascend up your nostrils and the only way to pull the creature into line is to dip the accompanying celery into it, devour maniacally, and sporadically quench your thirst with the distinguished, apricot flavours of the Turckheim Pinot Gris d’Alsace (only 17 notes per bottle).

Desserts: again, the most courageous amongst the harden eaters will want to attempt a scaling of the Pavé de Chocolat, as recommended by the cunning waiting staff. This huge, moist walnut and chocolate monstrosity comes with melted chocolate ganache and vanilla ice cream and, after a few mouthfuls, consumes its victim as much as it is being consumed itself. The sensible option is to try the Trio de Crème Brûlée. This is the French equivalent of ordering tiramisu in an Italian restaurant; it’s just what you do. Plus, with this dessert, there’s the added bonus of playing the game of ‘guess the filling’ when the small pots of raspberry, vanilla and chocolate brûlée are sacrificed at your table. Ahh, poor brûlée. Oh well, cant be helped.

Overall, this Café Rouge gives off a vibe that screams ‘help me, help me. I’m a prisoner in my own home. I will cook my way out, if need be’. Perfectly capable and yet sadly overlooked. When the conversation five tables away can be heard quite clearly one suspects there might not be enough custom. If it makes it through the other side of the recession, it deserves a new place of residence. Remember those three key words, though, Mr Rouge: location, location, location.