La Fourchette, Rue Parent, Plateau, Dakar.
Its anniversary time Chez Jiffler, so a slap-up meal at somewhere fancy is in order. Mrs Jiffler and I scrub up well, despite having to get dressed for the evening in the dark thanks to the useless so called 'electricity company'. I've started enjoying wearing nice suits these days as well. Perhaps its a sign of growing up.
La Fourchette (The Fork) is one of the classier joints in Dakar. Putting the bland chain hotel dining rooms aside, there are only a handful of properly upmarket places to go in town; notably Le Lodge, Farid, Cosi, Sokhomon, and the surreal, yet ultimately disappointing Lagon II. La Forchette is the one with the real reputation for fine dining though, and I've heard good things about it here and there.
Front of house is smart enough, and we're shown to a decent table. The bar area looks like the sort of place I could knock back a bit of rum, and the restaurant is stylishly decorated (thankfully they didn't go with a forchette theme). Its something of a windowless box though, and although the A/C keeps us cool enough, the place quickly fills up with smoke as the French pile in with their Gitanes. More of the Frenchies later.
The menu is a little bit overwhelming as there appear to be multiple-personalities at work in the kitchen. You have a range of French-style starters and mains to get through, plus a selection of Mexican dishes, Japanese sushi and tempura, Italian platters, and the daily specials. The wine list is more trim, mostly French with a couple of Moroccan, New World and Spanish plonks thrown in to keep the prices down.
Mrs Jiffler recommends the sushi, and so we opt for a 'pirogue' of mixed sashimi to share as a starter. It comes presented on a wooden pirogue (Mrs Jiffler likes this kind of novelty) and looks quite smart. Capitaine and tuna are fresh and flavoursome, but the salmon is a cold tasteless lump. Wasabi is fresh and zingy and soya sauce is decent quality, but the rice just falls to bits in our chopsticks. Messy. I spot a few other more conventional sashimi options coming out of the kitchen, which in fairness look better held together than the pirogue, perhaps the boat was a touch too experimental.
Mains then, and the t-bone I ordered from the specials is unavailable. The waitress is gracious and witty about her error and recommends the Entrecote. This comes rare, as requested and tastes like a steak that has been left to hang for a while, unusual in Dakar. Unfortunately its a bit of a stringy cut, and I have to wrestle the knobbly bits out of my teeth. Vegetable sides are nicely al dente and carefully presented. Mrs Jiffler's Pork comes in an oriental style, with the odd surprising nugget of chilli. Her bucketload of rice could have been cut with a few veg to keep things interesting though.
So far, so inconsistent.
Its a treat, so we decide to squeeze in some puds. La Fourchette is famous for its puds, and I've been watching plate after plate of Roti au Chocolat coming out of the kitchen to the obvious delight of assorted French ladies. Mrs Jiffler leaps at the chance to try one, while I attempt the Creme Brulee en Coque, mainly to find out what they mean by en coque. After a few minutes our plates arrive, and the inconsistencies earlier in the meal are immediately forgiven. The baked chocolate is sublime, coming with a scoop of dreamy vanilla ice cream and a little smudge of marmalade. "En Coque" means your creme brulee comes served in three neatly opened egg shells (making the most of leftovers I see). Normally I not so impressed with this kind of gimick, but I concede it has some wit, and the creme brulee is outstanding. A neat crunch, followed by more of that lovely vanilla kick, the custard so smooth that I have the childish urge to lick the shells out.
During the course of the meal We chug through a good bottle of Beaujolais, a half bottle of OK Cote De Rhone, and some fizzy water. The final bill comes to something in the region of UK restaurant prices, which is becoming less of a surprise in this town. For a treat in Dakar, its worthwhile now and again, despite the inconsistencies. Certainly its popular with the French and Lebanese of all ages, who pack out the restaurant, with virtually no Senegalese in sight. I wonder if the lack of Senegalese customers is because, or in spite of this. Maybe La Fourchette is no longer fashionable with the Dakar glitterati, or perhaps even the Dakar-riche are feeling the crunch.
Its anniversary time Chez Jiffler, so a slap-up meal at somewhere fancy is in order. Mrs Jiffler and I scrub up well, despite having to get dressed for the evening in the dark thanks to the useless so called 'electricity company'. I've started enjoying wearing nice suits these days as well. Perhaps its a sign of growing up.
La Fourchette (The Fork) is one of the classier joints in Dakar. Putting the bland chain hotel dining rooms aside, there are only a handful of properly upmarket places to go in town; notably Le Lodge, Farid, Cosi, Sokhomon, and the surreal, yet ultimately disappointing Lagon II. La Forchette is the one with the real reputation for fine dining though, and I've heard good things about it here and there.
Front of house is smart enough, and we're shown to a decent table. The bar area looks like the sort of place I could knock back a bit of rum, and the restaurant is stylishly decorated (thankfully they didn't go with a forchette theme). Its something of a windowless box though, and although the A/C keeps us cool enough, the place quickly fills up with smoke as the French pile in with their Gitanes. More of the Frenchies later.
The menu is a little bit overwhelming as there appear to be multiple-personalities at work in the kitchen. You have a range of French-style starters and mains to get through, plus a selection of Mexican dishes, Japanese sushi and tempura, Italian platters, and the daily specials. The wine list is more trim, mostly French with a couple of Moroccan, New World and Spanish plonks thrown in to keep the prices down.
Mrs Jiffler recommends the sushi, and so we opt for a 'pirogue' of mixed sashimi to share as a starter. It comes presented on a wooden pirogue (Mrs Jiffler likes this kind of novelty) and looks quite smart. Capitaine and tuna are fresh and flavoursome, but the salmon is a cold tasteless lump. Wasabi is fresh and zingy and soya sauce is decent quality, but the rice just falls to bits in our chopsticks. Messy. I spot a few other more conventional sashimi options coming out of the kitchen, which in fairness look better held together than the pirogue, perhaps the boat was a touch too experimental.
Mains then, and the t-bone I ordered from the specials is unavailable. The waitress is gracious and witty about her error and recommends the Entrecote. This comes rare, as requested and tastes like a steak that has been left to hang for a while, unusual in Dakar. Unfortunately its a bit of a stringy cut, and I have to wrestle the knobbly bits out of my teeth. Vegetable sides are nicely al dente and carefully presented. Mrs Jiffler's Pork comes in an oriental style, with the odd surprising nugget of chilli. Her bucketload of rice could have been cut with a few veg to keep things interesting though.
So far, so inconsistent.
Its a treat, so we decide to squeeze in some puds. La Fourchette is famous for its puds, and I've been watching plate after plate of Roti au Chocolat coming out of the kitchen to the obvious delight of assorted French ladies. Mrs Jiffler leaps at the chance to try one, while I attempt the Creme Brulee en Coque, mainly to find out what they mean by en coque. After a few minutes our plates arrive, and the inconsistencies earlier in the meal are immediately forgiven. The baked chocolate is sublime, coming with a scoop of dreamy vanilla ice cream and a little smudge of marmalade. "En Coque" means your creme brulee comes served in three neatly opened egg shells (making the most of leftovers I see). Normally I not so impressed with this kind of gimick, but I concede it has some wit, and the creme brulee is outstanding. A neat crunch, followed by more of that lovely vanilla kick, the custard so smooth that I have the childish urge to lick the shells out.
During the course of the meal We chug through a good bottle of Beaujolais, a half bottle of OK Cote De Rhone, and some fizzy water. The final bill comes to something in the region of UK restaurant prices, which is becoming less of a surprise in this town. For a treat in Dakar, its worthwhile now and again, despite the inconsistencies. Certainly its popular with the French and Lebanese of all ages, who pack out the restaurant, with virtually no Senegalese in sight. I wonder if the lack of Senegalese customers is because, or in spite of this. Maybe La Fourchette is no longer fashionable with the Dakar glitterati, or perhaps even the Dakar-riche are feeling the crunch.
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