Hibiscus

Here, in rather anonymous-looking premises just off Regent Street, Claude and Claire Bosi's Hibiscus is one of London's happiest fine-dining hot-spots. The West End can so often be a Bermuda Triangle of reputations but the operation has gone from strength to strength. An air of confidence and refinement flows through the spacious and comfortable single room, which is kitted out in muted tones with a variety of textures and materials, with tables well spaced and service that flows unobtrusively. The menu format is unabashedly contemporary, in that it consists of a word-cloud of prime ingredients that vary according to the season. You check off anything you're not fond of, and then choose how many courses (three, six or eight) you feel up to, and Claude Bosi does the rest. (A more traditional lunch menu is offered for those who have offices to get back to or shops to hit.) The style is modern French, the dishes full of speculative combinations and thorough-going avante-garderie, but it's a measure of a chef at the peak of his powers that it's possible to work your way through a long, relaxed evening, and not encounter anything that is less than stunningly successful. Isle of Skye scallops en céviche of immaculate texture and flavour are boldly teamed with sweet-and-sour wasabi and gariguette strawberries for a daring opener, which is then followed by a single spear of spring asparagus in burnt hay, brightly attended by orange and hazelnuts. Bosi has always had the chef's equivalent of perfect pitch with fish, as is seen in a serving of Cornish bream stuffed with morels, a superb construction that gains from its intelligent accompaniments of kaffir lime, tarragon and coffee. That could be followed by lightly oak-smoked lamb's sweetbreads, the smokiness a subtle, underlying flavour, offset with vividly intense sorrel and goats' cheese. That last component provides the subliminal link into the next course, slow-grilled kid with new season's garlic and lemon thyme, the meat beautifully timed to pink throughout, and a dish that scores highly for its suddenly being, after all the restless experimentation that has gone before, a moment of pure classicism, like Picasso abruptly taking a break from Cubism to draw a perfectly Leonardo-esque head. The principal dessert might bring asparagus back for a curtain-call, a cream of the white version with garnishing of black olive, coconut and a sweet whey sorbet. Once you factor in all the appetisers and pre-desserts, petits fours and fantastic breads, the whole experience is truly spectacular.