Malay street food at the Sanderson

In spite of a restaurant-critic mauling, Malaysian joint Suka appears to be in rude health. Best skip pre-dinner drinks at the bar, though, says David Woodward

Suka took a bit of a pasting when it first launched. As so often happens in the compact world of food writing, one bad review quickly led to restaurant-critic dominoes—with the added spice of a competition to see who could construct the most gruesome put-down.

Suka's oyster omelette apparently tasted like a "fried lung-cookie in emphysema" to AA Gill (the man's bedtime stories must be a hoot), while Jay Rayner was "mugged on nice crockery". There is at least an element of truth to Rayner's hyperbole: some of the prices do edge towards the stratospheric, but Suka's blend of Malaysian street food with French technique makes no apologies for aiming high. It follows Alain Ducasse's Spoon as the Sanderson's resident restaurant, and Spoon, if you recall, was about as down-to-earth as a Swarovski-encrusted Range Rover.

The restaurant sits at the far end of the Sanderson's Long Bar, the centerpiece of this awkward design hotel. The whole place appears to be clinging to the concept of hip, and largely failing, like a fifty-something ad exec in skinny jeans. There are plenty of those at the bar, too: perched on "ironic" furniture, doing bad impressions of success in the vain hope that some of the hotel's Starck-infused sparkle could somehow lodge itself in their ridiculous haircuts. It's a very long walk to our table.

We are greeted by one, then two, then three of Suka's perma-grin staff. The obligatory concept speech is followed by a pair of excellent cocktails, and then a hackle-raising first-glance at the menu. Our waiter recommends choosing five to six courses to share between two. The average price of a beef dish is £23, £20 for poultry, £20 for seafood. That's anything up to £140 for an average pick, not including booze, dessert, service or sundries. And you need to consider the sundries. A bowl of rice costs £6. We may be in the middle of a commodities boom, but that's no excuse for confusing the price of basic foodstuffs with precious metals.

It should be noted that Suka responded positively to the first round of negative feedback. Some items came off the menu; others remained in smaller portions at lower prices. The result is a more accessible collection of dishes, encouraging experimentation, rather than outrage—but you still need to order with a healthy dose of abandon.
What to pick? Well, the papaya and pork belly salad is exquisite—big, crispy chunks of golden-pink belly; the dish's natural saltiness balanced by a sweet and spicy papaya-jalapeno dressing. The beef rending is also worth a look, delivering a spiky, ginger kick.

Malaysian cuisine is generally unabashed: satay tends to taste of peanuts, laksa tastes of coconut (and coriander if you're lucky), nasi lemak tastes, well, largely of fat. What Suka has done is to pimp the basic rules with a touch of western balance. So its rack of lamb is glazed with palm sugar and mint. The lobster wontons arrive alongside a lobster consommé, while the foie gras is flavoured with thai basil. It's all very good indeed—bold flavours in a very bold space.
In the wrong hands, such experimental dabbling would more than likely offend, but executive chef Daniel Clark's clockwork operation, fine attention to detail and skilled waiting staff add up to an experience even more precious than the sum of its parts. And at these prices, that's really saying something.