DUO Gastrobar restaurant review

Two sturdy, seared wedges of cabbage were lawned with a soft grating of black truffle, then laid on an umami-thump of Parmesan puree, nobly gentrifying this humble brassica. It was like eating cabbage for the first time. Parmesan reappeared for a tumble of raw and brilliantly yellow courgette ribbons. We drank chilled Riesling by the glass with still water and admired DUO Gastrobar’s decor—what my interior designer wife called Scandi-Art Deco.


DUO Gastrobar seared young cabbage with parmesan and black truffle.

We swore to come back again and again and again, but then the birth of our son, as marvellous and wonderful as he is, got in the way of our best-laid plans. So here we are: hungry to eat and make up for lost time.

Ever hopeful, we push open the door for a table on this busy Saturday night. Relieved, our hostess collects two menus and guides us towards DUO’s rammed dining room, and we nestle into a comfortable seat where I can stare lovingly at my wife, who looks especially radiant. (Yes, sometimes she reads these.)

I spy some menu changes. That’s good; it tells me Chef Dmity Blinov mixes things up, as good chefs should, and as good neighbourhood restaurants should.


DUO Gastrobar Yellow courgettes with parmesan.

The glamourous Mrs EatGoSee, in an exceptional display of dining decisiveness, orders three dishes and a rosy Paloma with enough tequila to make Mexico feel like a good idea this summer.

Here comes a bowl of broccoli pate that, like our cabbage friend, is made over to its best self. A verdant, suave mousse-like puree studded with toasted pine nuts sings of green goodness but feels soft and rich like butter. One plank of brioche, the colour of creamed corn, is not enough; what we get sadly tastes like it was superb when cut three hours ago. Shame.


DUO Gastrobar Broccoli Pate.

A pair of Gougères are generously ladened in black truffle hums with nutty Gruyére cheese. The yellowtail is–guess what–carpeted with grated black truffle and a whiff of horseradish (although you should go to Reif Kushiyaki for this kind of thing). You would be forgiven for believing we ordered the truffle-tasting menu, although I am sure the kitchen is thinking about it now.

Tables around us rise with chatter. A room of mostly thirty and forty-somethings. Other couples on dates share plates of blushing duck breast with green beans and summery platters of raw scallops with pomelo and rockmelon. Friends chatter over sherry-spiked negronis, veal liver and morsels of King Crab tangled in spaghetti with tomatoes.



DUO Gastrobar Yellowtail with black truffle and horseradish and Gruyère gourgeres.

My beef cheeks with suave mashed potato and chanterelles arrive chased down with a glass of Meerlust Cabernet Sauvignon. The meat is spoonable, lacquered in a sticky, glossy jus and, in the nicest possible way, the whole plate is so soft it renders teeth utterly redundant. It begs for a fresh crack of black pepper, but the tables do not offer seasoning. Our engaging, well-informed waiter would have brought some had I asked, but I finish the plate before I know it. Mrs EatGoSee re-orders the cabbage with Parmesan as if by protocol.


DUO Gastrobar beef cheeks with mashed potato and chanterelles.

Sheer greed pushes me to order the panna cotta with prunes, dates and walnuts, which I enjoy, but not nearly as much as DUO’s audacious bowl of pungent, mouth-searing gorgonzola with passion fruit.

We pay up, thank everyone and retreat back home to a life of sleep deprivation, bottle sterilising and parenthood, but, for a few moments, we enjoyed what once was.


DUO Gastrobar Gorgonzola and Passion Fruit.