Food fads come and go, but good French bistros will always have a place on the high street. Chef John McClements does the genre rather well, and very successfully; he now has four dotted around Southwest London (not to mention his Spanish, British and Morcoccan ventures). At his small but (almost) perfectly-formed Barnes newcomer, business is brisk, food is accomplished and service is smooth.

The Venue
Le Provence joins the cluster or shops and restaurants at the junction of White Hart Lane and Mortlake High Street in leafy, well-heeled SW13. A small, inviting bar at the front leads to an open-hatched kitchen then, finally, the dining room proper into which light floods via a large glass ceiling. The black and white chequerboard tiled floor and starched white napery are classic bistro. The tongue and groove on the lower half of the walls would be fine, too, if only it hadn’t been painted a shade of peach which would have raised eyebrows even in the 1980s when such tones were in vogue. Its unattractiveness is compounded by clashing burgundy leatherette seat cushions.

The Atmosphere
Despite the questionable colours, this is still a pleasant, welcoming space. Service is attentive, friendly and well-paced. Staff wear crisp shirts and trousers, as do male customers – this could never be a jeans and T-shirts kind of place. Middle-aged, middle-class locals who culinarily know what they like, and like what they know, form the bulk of the diners.

The Food
The front bar has its own tapas menu featuring old faithfuls like Iberico ham (£5.50) and mixed olives (£2) through baba ghanoush (aubergine dip, £3) to positively Blumenthal-esque foie gras ice cream (£4.50). There is no such radicalism in the dining room proper, where classics include vichyssoise, moules mariniere, oysters, grilled entrecote with bearnaise and calves liver with bacon.

Things get off to a cracking start with olive-studded bread so fresh and soft, it’s like eating a crusty pillow. From a set of about a dozen starters, a pair of large scallops (£7) arrives cooked to perfection, i.e. hardly at all. They are coated in a light saffron cream of glorious colour but overly subtle flavour. Dressed crab (£7.50), meanwhile, has been piled back into its shell, the white meat flaked and dressed in a gentle mayonnaise so as not to overwhelm its delicate flavour. The delicious dark meat has been turned into a smooth-as-silk sauce which coats tender salad leaves. Half a hard-boiled egg completes this faultless ensemble.

From the same number of mains, a generous, tasty, tender portion of braised rabbit (£14) in a classic, tomato-y Provencal sauce is hard to fault, although its accompanying mash, though unctuously buttery, could be hotter. A whole baked sea bass (£16), perfectly cooked and with a buttery, lemony Pernod sauce, contrasts well with al dente fennel chunks. A shared bowl of overcooked French beans, however, unfortunately lets the side down.

From a quintet of puddings (all £4.50) plus three cheeses (each £3.50), a big helping of prune and Armagnac ice cream delivers great fruit and booze. There’s good flavour to a daringly softly-set coffee panna cotta, too, but the portion is as stingy as the ice cream’s is generous, and the accompanying quenelle of clotted cream, superfluous.

The Drink
A short but more than serviceable wine list features one Champagne, a dozen whites, 11 reds and four roses. The cheapest red and white (both Baron de Vassal, vin du Languedoc 2006) are available by the 175 and 250ml glass or 500ml carafe as well as by the bottle (£3.50/£5.25/£10.50/£12.50). Commendably, nine of the other wines can also be ordered by the small or large glass. Top-of-the-shop red, Pommard les Vaumuriens, domaines Vecten 2006, will set you back £62 whilst Meursault, domaine Vecten 2005 is the priciest white at £65.

Using glasses with the measure written on them is more downmarket pub than middle-market bistro, and even the humblest of reds should not be served in a glass far too small to allow swirling and sniffing. Postprandial coffees – cappuccino, single or double espresso, filter or latte, all available in decaf – are £2, as are English breakfast, Earl Grey, camomile, fresh mint or green tea.

The Last Word
John McClements’ latest enterprise serves just the kind of fine, fad-free, French food Barnes’ predominantly mature and conservative burghers want. They’ll enjoy the ambience, too, although let’s hope that lurid peach paintwork soon disappears. And pricing is spot-on; £40 a head including service for three courses and half a bottle of wine, whilst not a steal, represents solid value. Fans of faddish fusion and an edgy vibe should go elsewhere – but then, what would they be doing in Barnes in the first place?

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