There’s nothing nicer than a lunch out during a sunny London summer’s day. Unfortunately, this day we had a miserable rainy summer’s day today in London. I can start to see why Londoners strip off when it’s warm and sit in the park, in a representation of a beachside break, when the sun comes out.

We’re headed to L’Atelier de Joël Robuchon today for lunch, thankfully a place that does not rely on a sunny outlook. If you’ve never heard of Joël Robuchon, he is the man who has the most Michelin stars in the world, beating even the female foodie’s pin-up boy Gordon Ramsay. The restaurant is all lacquered blacks and reds, sleek and shiny with some whimsical touches and chili and fruit displays. Everything is all about sleek surfaces and strategically placed lighting.

We’re seated at the bar area along with most of the other guests. There are also other tables and a wall of foliage although the entire area is closed off and seemingly ensconced in the sleekness of the dark colours. It’s like a quiet nightclub or bar and as it’s Sunday afternoon there are a few families dining here as well (with well behaved kids).

We’re shown the menu and I choose to go with the 2 course lunch while Blythe opts for her favourite flavour: Foie Gras. Foie Gras in the Bouillon Poule (Foie Gras ravioli in broth) and the Foie Gras Le Burger, the items she swooned over in Tokyo’s Roppongi L’Atelier de Joel Robuchon, the first branch opened in the world.

The Alessi bread basket is brought with some white sourdough rolls. Some are single, some are conjoined twins. Blythe notes that in Tokyo, the rolls were absolutely perfect in shape whereas here they are more haphazard. We ask for some butter and they oblige cutting off a slice from the roll and adding some fine salt on top. The bread and butter is sublime together, chewy and crispy spread thick with the gorgeous creamy butter.

Bouillon Poule £16

Blythe’s entree, the Bouillon Poule, Foie Gras Ravioli in warm chicken broth, zesty whipped cream, comes in a large square plate with a small cocoon bowl. The small ravioli, 5 in total are perfectly round and when you slip one into your mouth to taste it, the foie gras explodes in the mouth in a delicious warm gush.

Le Burger £15

Her burger arrives, a beef and foie gras burger with lightly caramelized bell peppers. They are two small round burgers with the JR flag raised atop along with upright crinkle cut chips and a drizzle of sauce. The foie gras burger is good although quite subtly foie gras flavoured with the julienned yellow capsicum’s flavour strongly present. Blythe admits that the Tokyo burger she had had a much stronger foie gras flavour and she prefers that.

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A rather fabulous dilemna to have is one that I had recently when we did a butter taste test with friends. We had purchased 13 fantastic European butters and after doing our taste test we had pretty much 13 cakes of butter minus the small amount we used for tasting. We tried packing up the butters for the taste testers and whilst they took a couple, it didn’t really diminish the pile of butter in the fridge. What better to do with good quality butter is a Gateau Breton, the very buttery shortbready biscuit cake originating from Brittany in France. And what better butter to use for it than Brittany butter. The Brittany butter was voted as some of the best in the lot by our tasters so I decided on its fate instantly. Isn’t that how butter wants to end up?

For some strange reason, slicing the diamond shapes doesn’t always result in the lines staying put and I’m not sure why that is (and neither is Nigella). As I was using another kitchen, one of someone who doesn’t cook, they didn’t have a pastry brush so I had to improvise and fashion myself a brush made out of baking paper so the glaze application wasn’t quite up to par. Nevertheless this eggy buttery cake is richly gorgeous and golden hued. It’s fantastic served with coffee in the afternoon or for a delicious end to a dinner.

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When I come to France, all I want to do is eat pastry. Should an immigration officer ask me my reason for entering France, I’ll simply say “To eat pastry”. Forget chocolate, I can always get good chocolate in Sydney, Tokyo, London or anywhere else I travel. However pastries like this are much harder to find. Poilâne is an institution, their sourdough bread of miche is said to be legendary. Using stone-ground flour, sea salt from Guérande and a wood-fired oven they set about conquering the world, one loaf at a time.

So a visit to Paris isn’t complete with a visit to their flagship store on the rue de cherche Midi. I have tried Poilâne bread before as it is available in London so we visited just to “take a perv” at the store and buy some pastries and some other breads. It’s an unusual set up. The shopfront is in a small street and hints not at the auspiciousness of the bakery. A stern looking unsmiling woman sits at the counter taking money while a group of older and younger woman flutter about backs to the wall watching customers and straightening displays of bread.

There is a small selection of breads and pastries and a sample box of their flower petal shaped butter cookies. The miche is sold by the weight and you can choose the amount of thinly sliced bread that you want. One woman offers me a sable biscuit from the box while I am browsing and a friendly young woman, a dead ringer for Natalie Portman offers her help. They package up the items for you, you don’t help yourself, and they wrap it and write the price on the paper bag and hand it to you and you then pay the stern madam behind the counter.

Le haul

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