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Wine List Confidential: Imperial Treasure

Ahead of Lunar New Year, Douglas Blyde visits Imperial Treasure in St James’s, finding Peking duck with a texture “closer to pâté than poultry” and a “plush yet predictable” bottle of Burgundy.

Imperial Treasure is less a restaurant than an empire, rolling out of Singapore in 2004, dripping with Michelin stars and entitlement. By the time it landed in London’s St James’s in 2019, it promised Peking duck – lacquered, glistening, steeped in ceremony – for the capital’s gilded gourmands. But promises, like crispy duck skin, can shatter under pressure. Jay Rayner’s now-legendary critique skewered the spectacle: “There is so much more to go,” he lamented as the chef laid down his blade mid-carve and fled. “The legs have barely been touched. There’s a ballast of glistening skin and meat around the arse end, and more around its back.” A grim farewell to half a bird which devoured an entire paycheck.

Then there’s the live seafood – Gillardeau oysters and Norwegian king crab – priced, as the Good Food Guide quipped, so “severely” they demand a second mortgage. And while Michelin cooed over the palatial former bank setting, not all diners were dazzled. One TripAdvisor reviewer suffered a waiter as relentless as soy glaze, begging for praise: “‘Don’t forget your homework tonight. You remember my name, right?’” Refinement, it seems, comes at a cost to one’s patience.

Design

Studio Liaigre, the creative force behind London’s Hakkasan and Yauatcha, as well as ultra-luxe yachts and fortress-like private homes with 24/7 security, transformed this Grade II-listed Victorian giant on Waterloo Place. With ceilings stretching 20 feet and unyielding orange marble walls which preservation rules forbade altering, the designers embraced the challenges. The result is a moody, opulent warren where dark woods and glowing screens conjure a cinematic collision of In the Mood for Love and a high-stakes Mayfair power lunch. Entryways feature intricate rope details, perhaps inspired by the woven silk of the Syuro tree at the Imperial Palace. A mezzanine houses private dining rooms, perfect for clandestine deal-making or disgracefully lavish Bacchanalian banquets, while the centrepiece is a radiant “Sun” onyx bar. Though the interiors remain remarkably well-preserved, the street-facing windows, cloaked in grime, hint at a less meticulous attention to outward appearances.

Drinks

Formerly of the Shangri-La collection, where he founded the Shangri-La Abu Dhabi Wine Club Group and enjoyed early evening jogs, Thushaj Thulaseedharan now oversees wines and spirits with what he calls “beverage menu engineering.”

By the glass, the journey begins patriotically with the Union Jack in the form of Coates & Seely Brut Reserve (£18/125ml); Château Minuty Rosé (£18) flutters in next – a pretty shade, but perfectly forgettable. Coravin offerings, meanwhile, deliver the mineral precision of 2020 Grand Cru Riesling from Alsace’s Domaine Muré – Clos Saint Landelin, Vorbourg (£26), or the still-juicy 2016 Othello from Dominus (£32).

Bubbles by the bottle might make lesser wallets gasp. Cristal graces the list twice, with the 2002 Brut (£1,188) and 2008 Rosé (£1,598) arriving like gilded twins. Then there’s 1990 Krug Collection, priced not at £1,990 but £1,988 – an insistent nod to the importance of numerology in Chinese culture, and the infinity of the number “8,” which appears 190 times on Thulaseedharan’s menu as a reminder that fortune favours the thirsty. Curiously, though, “9”, phonetically akin to the Mandarin word for wine (jiu), might carry even greater resonance in this setting.

Despite a lofty starting price of £88, the cheapest red is excellent and subject to a modest mark-up: Mas la Mola Vi d’Altura Negre 2021. At the summit lies Pétrus 2015 at £7,788, a top vintage crowned with a perfect score (Wine Enthusiast). It has been seen at more vertigo-inducing prices elsewhere, though the Chinese interpretation of its cost translates to “half-hearted,” an amusing irony given its premium placement. A phalanx of empties stored at the wine dispense suggests it’s more than a museum piece.

Other Bordeaux heavyweights include Cheval Blanc 1990 (£3,488), a relic of the recession year which still thrives, though Thulaseedharan might note “3” symbolises separation in Chinese culture – not ideal for banquets – and “4” ominously echoes death. For something less superstitious, there’s the more modestly priced Berliquet 2012 (£188), a pre-Chanel gem.

Abutting Berliquet in the Cellar Treasure Collection, Château Canon 2011 (£388) offers a neighbourly nod to Bordeaux’s greats. Burgundy’s Henri Rebourseau Clos de Vougeot Grand Cru 2016 appears at £888 – triple fortune in liquid form. The holy trinity of Ornellaia, Sassicaia, and Tignanello share space with Sine Qua Non Distenta, Opus One, and the curious oddity of an off-year Essex Pinot Noir, proving that hope springs eternal for fledgling producers.

Baijiu enthusiasts may spot a mistranslation of “white wine” to its Kanji equivalent, though for the authentic experience, Kweichow Moutai is listed with an ominous “seasonal price”. The higher the tune, the fewer who can join in.

Sweet wines close the show, including 1990 Château d’Yquem (£978) and 2013 Tokaji Aszú, Disznókő (£138 per 50cl). Noting the origins of sake may be traced to mainland China, its enthusiasts will find Dassai 23 Centrifuge (£458), a polished masterpiece proving rice refinement can transcend grapes. For the rarest of the rare, Croizet Cognac dating to 1894, the year of the first Sino-Japanese war, is, at £633 per double, liquid history with a price to match.

Dishes

Wee Boon Goh, once the virtuoso of Hakkasan Hanway Place, now helms the kitchen at Imperial Treasure London. This being our third visit, expectations soared – yet so did perplexities.

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In eager anticipation of the theatrics and richness of a pre-ordered Peking duck, we asked for restraint from the fryer and for a chance encounter with sea cucumber, an ingredient which dazzled on a prior outing. The latter, requested by the youngest member of our group – a girl who confidently voiced her preference, only to be twice mistaken for a boy – was met, like the former, with refusal by management.

The meal opened with a baijiu-based concoction: Moutai Prince, orgeat, orange, and mint combined in what can only be described as a “Baijiu Beach”. Pleasing, yes – but not the sort of sophistication Mayfair demands.

Dispensed, incongruously, on Japanese bone china, a flurry of dim sum followed at speed. Snow mountain pork buns, cloyingly sweet and paired with syrupy chilli dip, led the charge. Fried wagyu puffs – their rich cores conjuring the allure of a Uyghur spice market – received their wine pairing as the last bite was being taken: Thulaseedharan’s “recent discovery,” a jasmine-scented mountain Malagousia, Kanakaris 10³, whose flavour disconcertingly mirrored alcoholic mineral water. The promise of an Albariño for comparison alongside what was the cheapest white on the list, went unfulfilled.

Cheung fun, featuring the curious downgrade of shredded prawns to filler status, was bulked out with deep-fried flour, robbing the dish of its signature pop and silken elegance. What should have glided effortlessly instead slumped, gummy and graceless.

The much-anticipated Peking duck, carved tableside, arrived cooked to well-done monotony, its texture closer to pâté than poultry. The expected five-spice marinade was absent, though the accompanying pancakes, supple and expertly crafted, were a minor redemption. As Thulaseedharan regaled us with anecdotes about Keralan customs officials recoiling at the heady aromatics of his luggage, the duck’s encore appeared: the interesting bits, chopped, battered, deep-fried, and lavishly salted. What should have been a gnawable delight was reincarnated as a sub-par high street takeaway, entombed in unnecessary excess, making it painful to digest over the ensuing days.

Château de Chamirey Mercurey 2020, plush yet predictable, drew notes of steeped Chinese medicine when paired with the duck, proving a reasonably competent, if uninspired companion. “Pinot sleeps with anything,” as Jan Konetzki once put it. By the time a precocious San Polo Brunello di Montalcino 2018 was eventually poured for guests who had run dry on more than one occasion, Coravin-delivered into impressively engineered Sophienwald glassware – the meal’s momentum had fizzled.

Despite a request for vegetables, we were offered, bizarrely, yet more oily fare in the form of ho fun beef noodles. Meanwhile, left in the hands of the management, not a single Singaporean dish – an odd omission given the restaurant’s origins – graced the table, nor did the chef’s imagination extend even to a humble bowl of rice.

Dessert was cubed Osmanthus jelly with wolfberries, a dish Imperial Treasure has trotted out for years, with no prescribed wine pairing. Instead, the cocktail “Bliss” landed – a Konik’s Tail vodka concoction infused with crisped rice, goji honey, and tamarind oil. More a pudding than potable, its tropical vibes felt as out of place in this setting as a mirror ball at a wake.

Final sip

Thulaseedharan, a likeable raconteur with an arsenal of well-worn anecdotes, comes across more as a genial caretaker than a curator of a head-turning wine programme. While pursuing his WSET Diploma, he seems content in the cocoon of coursework, perhaps overlooking London’s vibrant wine scene bustling just beyond his doorstep. Tastings, masterclasses, and the camaraderie of the sommelier community remain untapped reservoirs of inspiration. As the Chinese saying warns: “The frog in the well knows nothing of the ocean” – and this particular frog seems quite at home in his pond.

Should he venture beyond the syllabus, he might uncover the alchemy needed to transform Imperial Treasure into a true oenophile’s pilgrimage, elevating the experience from the merely perfunctory to the profoundly memorable. But for now, this is an experience which waddles below its anticipated heights.

Best for

  • Lehmann and Sophienwald glassware
  • Sultry setting
  • Private room

Value: 88, Size: 90, Range: 90, Originality: 88, Experience: 88; Total: 88.8

Imperial Treasure – 9 Waterloo Pl, London SW1Y 4BE; 020 3011 1328; imperialtreasure.com

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