An Alpine peak of French-style cuisine

RESTAURANT REVIEW

Black

La Vallée Blanche
360 Byres Road,
Glasgow
(0141-334 3333)

The Bill

Dinner for two, £71, excluding drinks

I bought a lovely coat stand in here," my dining partner, Zoe, says as we settle into our window table at La Vallée Blanche on Glasgow's Byres Road. It's not that the restaurant – a welcome and impressive addition to the fine dining scene in the city – does a sideline in antique furniture (although I'm sure I saw a certain wrinkle-faced TV chef encouraging one of his "nightmares" to use the food and furniture combination as its USP; if I remember rightly, it worked too). Here, though, it's that the first-floor space La Vallée Blanche occupies was once a ramshackle collection of second-hand stalls perched above a record shop in a building just five minutes' walk from Hillhead underground station.

It used to be the kind of place you'd wander around on a Sunday, browsing among previously loved and comfortably worn bits and pieces of furniture. Now it's the kind of restaurant in which I'd happily spend an afternoon or evening any day of the week, sampling a fine French-influenced menu.

Named after a picturesque French mountain village, the restaurant's wood-panelled walls, cosy red carpets and dark wood tables give it the feel of an Alpine lodge, albeit a posh one. There are antler lampstands, bottles of wine on wooden shelves around the rustic walls, as well as candles dotted beneath the wall-length window.

It's not the décor that you'll want to go to La Vallée Blanche for, though, it's the excellent food. With much of the menu locally sourced and the combinations of flavours and ingredients mouthwateringly intriguing, our dinner proves to be one of the finest I've eaten in Glasgow.

It's not faultless – chasing for a wine order before diners have looked at the menu is daft, and although it's laudable that the food is locally sourced, waiting staff must let diners know (before they start to salivate) if dishes are unavailable. These are small niggles. Overall the service is enthusiastic and informed. On a fine dining scene that has at times been a little lean, this restaurant is a genuine treat.

The kitchen is the domain of chef Neil Clark, who used to wield the knives at the award-winning Princes Square eaterie Etain. I ate my first tonka bean in Etain in a dessert designed by Clark. With images of children's tough toys in mind, the waiter brought several from the kitchen in a small box for me to take home. I'm glad to see Clark has brought the beans west with him to his new venture, and it's clear that the friendly, knowledgeable staff here would happily make as many trips to the kitchen as inquisitive diners might require.

On to the food. There's a mouthwatering selection of hors d'oeuvres, including potted French rabbit, salad of borlotti beans, celery, carrots and tarragon, Bradan Orach smoked salmon with capers, shallots and sourdough and Loch Fyne rock oysters served natural or warm with tarragon and chervil. I opt for a classic – hand-dived scallops with black pudding purée and caramelised apple and fennel salad (£10). A standard dish in this kind of restaurant it may be, but when the scallops arrive they're beautifully cooked, served on a silky smooth and earthy purée which is perfectly offset with chunks of sweet cooked apple and shreds of raw apple. It's delicious.

Zoe chooses sautéed foie gras with lamb sweetbreads, baby turnips and an almond purée (£8.50). Complemented by a generous glass of Sauternes (£7.50), the acidity of the dessert wine cuts through the richness of the meats just as the waiter assured us it would.

The plats principaux are no less impressive. There's a slight slip-up when we're not informed that the grilled rib of beef for two is off the menu after having set our hearts on it. Happily, the dishes we choose more than make up for the disappointment. For Zoe it's an Edenmill Farm Aberdeen Angus beef fillet (£22.50), a dense, substantial cut of meat, cooked well and served simply with confit potatoes, wild mushrooms and baby onions. For me it's Gressingham duck breast, chosen partly because of the accompanying beetroot, rhubarb, turnip and snails (£16). To avoid needless showiness, the flavours in this dish have to be cooked confidently and simply to marry them together. Happily, they are. The duck is tender, the sweet beetroot and sharp rhubarb harnessing the richness of the meat. The snails, each topped with a sliver of lemon zest, are tart and tasty.

There's no let-up in the standard in the desserts. With only a slight hesitation as my eye alights on a lemon posset served with mandarin panna cotta and citrus sorbet, I plump for an intriguing sounding peanut parfait sandwiched with almond tuiles that comes with glazed banana and almond milk (£6). Zoe chooses a selection of Scottish cheeses served with Hebridean oatcakes (£8). Both dishes are very fine indeed – the parfait light but satisfyingly sweet, accompanied by a shot glass of almond milk that at one point I wish was a schooner. The cheeseboard, so disappointing when it's wrong, is a generous selection of French and Scottish delights.

With coffees ordered and just a dribble remaining of a very fine Bordeaux (£28) chosen from a short but satisfying all-French wine list, this has been a very fine meal. Antiques? You can get them anywhere.