The Feed was lucky enough to dine at The Breslin on Friday night, when the kitchen was under the stewardship of London’s great mammal whisperer, Fergus Henderson. We’ll begin with a note on the venue, which sat its very first customers that evening. It’s stunning—a far cry from The Spotted Pig’s tight, chaotic quarters or the shuttered John Dory and its frenzied fish theme. With its multiple levels, smartly constructed nooks and gorgeously aged patina, the Breslin evokes what we imagine an old Bowery Tavern might have been like. This is a comfortable place to dine.

And then there was the food. We hewed mostly to Henderson’s dishes, given the occasion. We most enjoyed narrow toasts smeared with anchovy paste and served with a soft-boiled egg for dipping. Other dishes, like a braised lamb neck and a trio of molten marrow bones, were delicious too, but none spoke so explicitly to Henderson’s sensibilities and talents as a chef as his savory meat pie. Rabbit and prune mixed with trotters gave the filling a creamy, slightly gelatinous texture—it was like something Robert and Christine would have served to their hunting party in La Règle du Jeu.

We told Henderson as much on our way out the door—while passing media folk and chefs like Joey Campanaro and Jonathan Waxman—and he faux swooned in gratitude. We felt the same way, chef.