Reviews and Comments of 'Helen Graves' (23)
I’d heard so many mixed opinions about Wahaca. Back in March, it won ‘Best Cheap Place to Eat‘ award in the OFM but then I read mixed reviews and heard negative comments from friends and bloggers. Wahaca was opened by the 2005 Masterchef winner, Thomasina Myers dishing up Mexican market food – not up-market mexican food, which is what I keep writing. I took a long time to get there, but a few weeks ago a friend and I met at the market for a mid-week dinner.
Wahaca Menu
First of all, I must mention that Wahaca has the strangest and most convoluted approach to people getting fed that I have ever come across. When you arrive, there will most likely be a queue, out the door and then down the stairs and into the restaurant. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t mind queueing (I am British after all) and I realise that often these queues move fast and are a good sign (think Tayyabs). When we get to the stairs stage however, a gentleman with a clipboard arrives and asks how many would like to eat. I (obviously), say two and he writes my name down on a list, telling me to come back in half an hour.
My friend arrives to meet me at this point, fresh from work and wet with rain, i.e. in need of a drink and some grub. I bring her up to speed and so we go for a drink nearby. When we return to the restaurant, the clipboard informs me we can now queue jump and so we do. This is a bit uncomfortable however, as the other people in the queue haven’t yet had their briefing and so are shooting us suspicious and disapproving glances.
Margarita
I am glad to have my name located on the clipboard and we are ushered to sit down. Hurrah! Not at a table though (don’t be silly), it’s the waiting area! OK, so we sit and we talk and my friend gives me at least another three restaurants to add to the the list*. We are waiting for so long that we start getting twitchy and the clipboard notices and checks to confirm we want a table for 4/6/8 (I can’t remember), ‘no! (in unison), ‘just two!’ and with this, he finally beckons us in, much to the dismay of the two ladies behind us, whom he shoos back so that we can take their place.
Tostados
Once inside, Wahaca has a good buzz about it. The mixture of music and voices is loud but creates a great atmosphere, the interior is modern, a bit canteeny but in a a colourful and happy kind of way. We sit down and are joined by a waitress who tell us that the dishes we order will arrive ‘as and when’ – we will not be getting everything we order at the same time, we will get it whenever each individual dish is ready. I start to think about the production line system they have going on here – I can visualise the Wahaca employees, whipping up batches of tostadas and burritos, passing them down to a holding area, where they sit, expectantly, waiting to be ordered. Numbed from the hassle of getting in, we smile and order margaritas.
I’d already looked at the menu (during the day, natch) and had clocked the hibiscus margarita, so I ordered that and my friend the tamarind. These margaritas are really very good actually. In the end I preferred the tamarind and my friend the hibiscus so for the next round we swap orders. The waitress gives us the wrong ones, so we swap again.
Quesadilla
So, the food? Well, it depends – on what you order. If you opt for the dishes that are most ubiquitous at a Mexican restaurant, such as burritos, enchiladas – hell, anything beef based then you are in for an oily experience. I find this odd and wonder if this is my ignorance of Mexican food. Is it really supposed to be that oily? But then that is of no consequence really, bottom line is – not pleasant to eat. If you order the ‘lighter’ dishes, such as the fish tostadas, then I think it makes some good eatin. Is it really good enough though, to justify the hassle?
I ordered the cactus tostadas (great texture but a bit flavourless, still really enjoyable), the chorizo and potato quesadilla (delicious) and something beefy (oily as hell). My friend also found her cow-based dish swimming in the stuff. A green side salad was fine, it came with seeds, which I like and everything is accompanied by red and green salsas, which are really good actually, subtly punchy. We are too full for churros (I still wonder if this is possible?).
Wahaca
Throughout the night, I occasionally notice the apparently declining mental state of the clipboard, as he darts frantically from table to queue, to waiting area, to table, to queue etc. The rest of the staff seem busy and move around quickly, but they actually seem truly relaxed, like they are all enjoying some sort of holiday camp. The clipboard seems to be stressed enough for all of them. I wonder how long he’ll last?
So I’m mixed about Wahaca. On the one hand, the things I liked, I really liked. On the other, the staples are way too oily – imagine having to brief your dining partner/s on the oil problem beforehand – this would make for some tedious conversation I’m sure. Mostly though, it’s the entrance fiasco, which might be alright on a relaxed summer evening when the sun is shining and all is right with the world, but not so much on a rainy night in October when you’re aching for things to be easy and want to spend maximum time catching up with a friend (with whom you recently re-connected after, what, 10 years?! and she didn’t mind my taking photos). The way I’m feeling right now about Wahaca though, next summer will probably be about the time I can face going back….
St. John has been high on ‘the list’ for a year or so now, so I was chuffed to say the least when I (along with Helen, Lizzie, Chris and Niamh), got invited to eat there by wine blogger Rob McIntosh (of Wine Conversation and Thirst for Rioja) and winemaker Rafael Vivanco and Hugo Urquiza, from Bodegas Dinastia Vivanco. Our visit fell just one day after St. John received its first ever Michelin Star. Now that’s what I call great timing. I’m a big fan of the St. John nose to tail eating philosophy, I eat a fair bit of offal and I’m always up for trying new bits of animal, like a good foodie. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever turned down any food that was offered to me. Including a fried cricket. Which tasted, incidentally, like sawdust.
Before we got down to the business of ordering the nose, the tail and everything in between, we started the wine tasting with a white Rioja (above), which I loved. I’m sure I’ve tasted a white Rioja before, but I didn’t appreciate it fully as apparently, it is uncommon to find a white from the region.
As Helen says, it was around this time that Rob talked about the acidity of wine and how it really matters when matching with food. For example, some wines may taste a little too acidic for ‘just’ drinking but when paired with particularly rich or fatty food (St. John has a lot of this), it is able to cut through and balance.
A bit of acidity was most definitely needed with my starter – the St. John signature dish of roast bone marrow with parsley salad. I’d tried bone marrow before at The Taste London Festival and it didn’t really leave much of an impression. I hear so much about how it tastes so amazing, that I had to try it again in case my tastebuds had deceived me. It was better this time but again, I don’t quite understand the hype. Don’t get me wrong – the rich marrow, topped with the piquant parsley salad and a good spinkling of salt really makes for some lovely eatin’, but I think I was expecting the experience of a lifetime. A girl sure can make a mess eating it too. Check out the carnage below.
With the starter we also sampled a Dinastia Vivanco Rioja Crianza 2004 (that’s red, and fruity). It was at this point I had a mini epiphany about wine tasting, realising that I can actually pick up the aromas and flavours the rest of the table was talking about (check out Rob’s write up for more detailed notes). To me, wine tasting and matching is something I’ve always found daunting, thinking I will humiliate myself by making the most awful pairing ever known to man. Then I realised, I’m just trying to overcomplicate things. I actually drink a lot of wine, but I never write about it in case I get it wrong. Things will change!
For my main I ordered the roast kid and when it arrived, I was pretty chuffed to be honest. It looked stunning, served with white beans and kale – perfectly cooked and hearty. It tasted (unsurprisingly), like goat but milder. The meat was beautifully tender with excellent crispy fat. Yes, more fat. Detox schmeetox.
Our remaining wines were both red, a Dinastia Vivanco Rioja Reserva 2001 (I remember Rob saying look out for hints of balsamic and I amazed myself again by actually picking some up) but my favourite without doubt was the Coleccion Vivanco Rioja 4 Varietales 2005 (sorry about the photo). A really big wine for my really big plate of meat, beans ‘n’ greens.
When it came to ordering dessert I was drawn to the Eccles cake with Lancashire cheese – firstly because Chris mentioned that he loved it on his last visit and secondly, because I missed out on a similar dessert at the sherry and food pairing with Heston Blumenthal (I had to leave early. Gutted). The fruity, sweet cake was balanced well by the slightly sharp cheese although I couldn’t eat it all – the slice of cheese was big, as are all the portions at St. John. I had a touch of food envy over Lizzie’s wibbly wobbly rhubarb jelly, which seemed like a much more sensible option after two rich courses and much tasting of wine.
Overall then, St. John surprised me. I knew the food would be ‘rustic’, but I did expect a little more ‘refinement’ from a restaurant just awarded it’s first Michelin star and I think this was the general consensus among our group. That said, the ambience is informal, which I enjoy, despite the surroundings being even more stark than anticipated. The lack of any embellishment in the restaurant decor does focus attention solely on the food, wine and company though, which is, after all, the point. Perhaps it’s just the unfamiliarity of a total absence of ‘faff’ which caught me off guard. Makes you wonder if it’s all really necessary doesn’t it? Lizzie also wonders this in her write up.
I’ll definitely go back to St. John, although I wouldn’t dine there with any vegetarian friends. The emphasis on meat and offal, the stark, white surroundings (reminiscent of a butchers shop) and the ’serious’ meat knives already present at table when you arrive, may prove a little unsettling if you’re not the carnivorous type. That said, the menu includes fish and vegetarian options, something to bear in mind for my return visit. Which, if Chris’s reaction to the photos is anything to go by, will be just as soon as payday arrives.
Oh, and I’ll be ordering some wine. And not apologetically like I usually do. I shall be asking for advice, thinking about it, remembering and most of all enjoying. If there’s one thing I’ve learned recently, it’s to stop giving myself a hard time over wine tasting. I don’t know much about it, but then there’s only one way to learn, right?
It seemed that every aspect of our visit happened on a grand scale. The journey to North Greenwich was convoluted, the place itself is basically a massive open space dominated by crazy skyscraper structures, the Peninsula restaurant is also huge, accommodating a potential 400 covers and the dim sum, well – what was lacking in portion size was gained back tenfold in quantity. I’m just going to highlight the dishes I really enjoyed – because to blog the lot would leave us all rather fatigued I’m sure.
The first dish to reach our table was the jellyfish – exciting for me as I’d never tried it before. Definitely a ‘texture thing’, it has no real flavour of it’s own but comes doused in a mild yet delicious chilli sauce. The toothsome texture was kind of like eating rubber bands (I imagine), but in a nice way (honestly) and strangely addictive. It had me craving it today, the same way that I crave the octopus.
Next to arrive were these yam croquettes – again exciting because I’m really not sure I’ve eaten much yam before – of any kind. Strange considering you can barely walk to my local station without tripping over piles of them. The exterior was light and crunchy and the filling sweet and moreish.
For me, the highlight of the entire meal was the ‘fried dough stick cheung fun’. This was honestly the most delicious dim sum I have ever eaten - soft and silky rice noodle roll with the sweet, fried dough stick within. The dough was both crispy and chewy – contrasting textural heaven!
I ticked another one off the ‘must-eat’ list with the turnip cake. I’ve been intrigued by this since I saw it on a few different blogs around Chinese new year and the fried slices had the exact pleasing stodgy texture inside that I had hoped for and a mild savoury taste with little surprise nuggets of bacon, shrimp and mushrooms. The cake, although delicious did highlight my insecurities about chopstick etiquette as it needed cutting into pieces for sharing and I only realised after the meal that there was a separate pair of chopsticks specifically for this purpose. I just hope I didn’t dive right in and greedily snatch anything.
And finally, the custard tarts that I almost didn’t order – even thinking about that possibility now makes me breathe a sigh of relief. Quite different from the British version, that pastry was so very thin and flaky, like shortcrust but layered (the primary ingredient is lard, which explains why it tastes so good). This is filled with a wibbly wobbly bright yellow egg custard – I was forced to eat two. I have no idea whatsoever if these tarts were a good example of their kind but they tasted damn fine to me and I will certainly be ‘testing’ as many as possible, as soon as possible.
So there’s my small selection of the many plates which just kept on coming – steamed tripe with ginger and spring onions, spare ribs in black bean sauce, coconut mousse, squid in satay sauce, beef balls with greens – I could go on. We hoovered up the whole lot rather excitedly if the mess on the table at the end was anything to go by. Come to think of it, the mess was mostly on my side but, like I say, my chopstick technique needs a little work. If I run with my newly acquired dim sum obsession though, I reckon I could be an expert by the end of the month.
Before this recent tasting at Tsuru Sushi, I knew nothing about sake except that I like it. For this reason then, I tried to pay close attention to our very knowledgeable and experienced teacher, Ngaire Takano and I’ll try now to make the most of the barely legible notes I scribbled down at the time.
The evening kicked off with a minor meeting point fail, after which myself and two mates hurried down from London Bridge to the restaurant, which is tucked away behind the Tate Modern. We sunk a couple of cheeky Asahi beers and nibbled on edamame for refreshment, before getting down to to the main event – four different sakes.
The first was a Daiginjo-Shu sake, made using rice which has been ‘polished’ to 50% of its original weight – apparently a very fine sake. It tasted surprisingly soft and sugary with a light, peachy fruityness – not at all harsh like the (obviously poor quality) sake I have tasted many times before.
We were also served some food throughout the evening (although not to be strictly matched with the sake) and with the first drink arrived these light gyoza along with really good, seriously sticky teryaki chicken. I was pretty hungry what with it being dinner time and I could easily have demolished a whole pile of both.
Sake number two was also Daiginjo-Shu. This was crisper with a more intense flavour than the first sake – it also has more alcohol added to it. Apparently some sakes such as these need to be watched for 72 hours straight to ensure that the quality of the drink is maintained. During this time it is constantly tasted to make certain that the delicate balance of ingredients is just right. That’s some serious dedication. I can’t say I wouldn’t nod off. In fact, just how do they stay awake?
Us ladies weren’t allowed the ‘privilege’ of watching sake brew for 72 hours back in the day however. In fact, we weren’t even allowed near it as it was thought that our higher body temperatures would make the sake turn sour. At this point Ngaire took great pleasure in telling us that female sake makers today are actually producing a superior quality drink. Maybe it’s all that extra heat coming off us.
Our third sake was a Ginjo-Umeshu, made by preserving plums in ginjo sake (from what I remember ginjo has a little distilled alcohol added to it, to increase the aroma). This was a gorgeous brown colour from the fruit and was very sweet – almost like a dessert wine. Smooth and subtle. Between this and our last drink, we enjoyed some generous veggie and non-veggie sushi plates. A highlight for me was surprisingly the inarizushi (below) – sweet, delicious and partly responsible for my recent acceptance of tofu. We also enjoyed the rolls which my friend and I were delighted to find contained pickles. We really heart pickles.
Our fourth and final sake was a change to the advertised line-up – a Genmai aged brown rice sake, which we tried with a piece of chocolate brownie – a bit of a surprise combination to all of us but it worked well. The brownie was good, squidgy and chocolately and although the sake was a little heavy on its own, with the brownie it took on a more syrupy quality, again like a dessert wine or sherry.
Sake is a drink with an interesting history but is very labour intensive to produce and is generally shrinking in popularity due to the influx of wine and beer. There are a few sake lovers out there championing the cause however and we learned how some of these people are even starting to play around with flavours, infusing the sake with ginger, garlic or lemongrass for example. I assume this is intended for use in cooking. Glass of garlic sake anyone? No, didn’t think so.
I shall definitely be making an effort to drink more sake from now on, as I was pleasantly surprised by just how different the various types tasted. I found the evening very informative and the credit should definitely go to Ngaire Takano for this – her informal and fun style is backed up by fact that she really knows her stuff. Our tasting on this occasion was complementary, although I must add that was a complete surprise – I was there under the assumption I would be paying £18 for the evening and I won’t hesistate to recommend that you do the same.
Hawksmoor restaurant is a firm favourite among us bloggers. For me, they do the best steaks in London, hands down. Then, they managed to come up with what I consider the best burger too. Now, they are introducing a different guest breed each month in addition to their established Longhorns, so customers have the opportunity to compare them and, as Hawksmoor put it ’savour the difference’.
So, all in the name of research, they asked if a group of us would like to come over and sample numerous different breeds and cuts of steak. Are you kidding? You would have to be certifiably mad (or vegetarian, no link intended), to turn that one down. That evening then, we worked our way through 17 – yes 17 different steaks. It was basically what I imagine being in heaven must be like.
Hawksmoor are also famous for making excellent drinks and on arrival we took refreshment in the form of this glorious tropical punch – perfect for the sunny weather. I cast aside any memories of lethal, tongue stripping student concoctions as the tangy mix of lemons, passion fruits, pineapples and subtle coconut blended perfectly.
Before the meat fest got underway, we jumped at the chance to get a sneak preview of the kitchen which is actually surprisingly small, with most of the space taken up by this massive charcoal grill. This is where the magic happens. Let the charring commence.
Our charming hosts for the evening, Will Beckett and Huw Gott were on hand to tell us everything we could possibly want to know about steak and I learned a lot – such as the difference between wet and dry ageing of beef. Wet is basically vacuum packed in plastic while dry aged beef is ‘hung’ and, although it may be loosely covered with muslin, it is not sealed in any way. Dry ageing is preferable as it gives a more deep, beefy flavour and soft texture but it also means that the beef shrinks, making it an unpopular method with the profit hungry. Hawksmoor of course, use only dry aged beef.
Now tantalisingly close to steak o’clock, we were provided with handy tasting sheets, which turned out to be absolutely essential as things started to get a little confusing after steak 9 or 10.
And then it started to arrive…and just kept on coming. We sampled 5 sirloins, 10 rib eyes, 1 rump chop and a flatiron. Almost all the steaks were cooked medium rare and, although I usually eat my steak rare, I think this was absolutely right for the tasting. The variation in colour between the steaks was extensive as was the difference in textures and flavours. Among my flavour tasting notes I have scribbled down words such as, ‘almost livery, deep, buttery, rich’ and for texture, ‘toothsome, tender, looser, soft, silky and smoky.’
We eventually tried to narrow it down to a top three – here are mine. At number three, the Ginger Pig Longhorn sirloin cut, which had an almost gamey flavour and was nearly up there with my number two, the Wild Beef South Devon sirloin – very deep and beefy in flavour with a hugely satisfying bite. I have written underneath, ‘SO BEEFY!’ – I was clearly excited. The number one for me and I think many of us though was the Ginger Pig Longhorn rib eye. This had a really silky texture, was rich and moist and had lots of lovely fat running through it which our corner of the table agreed was actually cheesy – Stilton-like in flavour. Amazing.
Along with all that meat we also devoured numerous bowls of salad, triple cooked chips and the most incredibly buttery béarnaise. Ooof.
After that truly epic meal, I must admit even my stomach of steel was beginning to feel a little fatigued. Thankfully I had remembered to wear a loose fitting top to go some way towards concealing the bloating. Despite our gorging however, my friend and I even managed to round off the meal with a Bompas and Parr designed pyramid jelly (even if we did spend more time wibbling it around than eating it) – now that is dedication. A massive thanks to Hawksmoor for such a fantastic evening – I honestly think I stumbled out on some sort of red meat high and it was totally worth the four days (porky visit to Szechuan restaurant aside) of vegetarianism afterwards.
When Jonathan suggested starting up some regular local restaurant crawls recently, I was so excited, I stepped up to the challenge of leading the very first crawl around my manor, Peckham. The idea is that our group of five would order a starter in one restaurant, a main in a second followed by dessert in a third and then finally drinks in a bar. This particular crawl was scheduled to take place on a Thursday night and I was worried we might not fit everything in but it turned out my fretting was needless as the evening was a blinder. We’ve divvied up the posts between us and so I’ve inserted write-ups of each place visited below. After meeting in Bar Story (more of that later), we moved onto Ganapati for starters. I’ll hand you over to Lizzie…
“Ganapati is a South Indian restaurant on a leafy street in the heart of Peckham. When we arrived, I was surprised by the interior; bare wooden country home-style tables were well spaced out and it was light and airy, atypical of the generic curry houses that I’m used to. Pretty sprays of flowers made the place look homely, and there was a pleasing waft of curry leaves. We were welcomed to our table warmly and we explained our plans for the evening to our rather bemused server. While perusing the A4 laminated menu, we were brought a jug of tap water to share. Instantly and rather predictably for me, the ‘aubergine bhurta’ appealed – a smoky aubergine salad with chilli and spices. This was delicious, and even the aubergine sceptic of our party loved it. The smoky flesh of the aubergine was both creamy and slightly tart, with a subtle chilli hint. We also had the crab thoran, which was suitably crabby and had delicious chunks of coconut in it. A masala dosa drew gasps of incredulity from the sheer size of it. Given it’s a pancake stuffed with potato, we wondered how much one would struggle if following it with a main course.
Vegetarian street snacks were extremely moreish and I wish we’d ordered two lots of these, and done away with the vegetable achar, which was simply just pickled vegetables. Don’t get me wrong, I am a huge pickle fan but these were a little unexciting whereas the street snacks were expertly fried, light and grease-free. We accompanied our starters with a Cobra beer, and I was a touch taken aback when the bill weighed in at a hefty £45, including service. Perhaps I am too used to the ample delights of Tayyabs. Nevertheless, I am still keen to sample their main courses… I spotted a spicy aubergine masala that caught my attention.”
Last week I was invited to a free screening at Peckham Multiplex. The film, called Consume Peckham, was a project by students from Chelsea Art College and included 18 short films about local businesses and the people behind them (part of the I Love Peckham 2009 Development Project).
Peckham is often a place of division between the people. One of the most striking things about the film was how it so clearly portrayed the divide between the white, middle class residents and the large proportion of people (many Nigerian), who have moved here from other countries and who make up the majority of the population. Most of the well-to-do local art students for example will be found in Bar Story, Peckham’s trendiest bar, with one lamenting, “there is nowhere else to go.” We noted the same predominantly white audience in the screening and I commented that the same was apparent at Frank’s pop-up bar.
Ozzie’s is different. Ozzie’s is the kind of place everyone feels comfortable. This is the role of the local caff: all-welcoming, no pretensions, no frills, no-one hurrying you to leave. All of human life is here. The food at Ozzie’s is pretty rubbish to be honest – questionable mystery meat bangers, tinned mushrooms, cheap juice, you get the idea – but then that really isn’t the point. Places like this are part of a routine, ‘the poetic and mundane details of the everyday.’ They remind us that the world keeps turning, the caff keeps opening and life goes on, no matter what happens in individual lives, and that can be a very comforting thought.
When a friend announced that his birthday meal would be at Snazz Sichuan in King’s Cross, I grinned from ear to ear and swiftly ticked another one off the hit list. These types of meal are only possible with groups of three or more really, otherwise you can never order enough different hot and cold dishes to make the meal complete. With six of us present, we managed to give the lazy Susan a really good work out, spinning her this way and that with eager eyes and poised chopsticks.
Our particularly enthusiastic waiter offered suggestions and gentle warnings, which was very sweet of him really; he obviously wasn’t sure if we knew exactly how much oil, chillies and tongue tingling peppercorns we were about to receive.
The first and only item I really had to have was the cucumber salad. In Sichuan cuisine, the humble cuke is totally transformed; the above marinated in rice wine and mellowed garlic and here stir fried with chillies and Sichuan pepper. The seeds are removed and moisture salted out, transforming limp and watery into crisp and cooling.
My favourite dishes were the hot and numbing pork (top photo) which arrived bathing in a typically Sichuan scarlet chilli pool and lived up to its name rather well, and the crispy pig’s intestines, below. If you’ve never eaten crispy fried intestines, then you are missing out on a tasty piece of pig – pull yourself together! An initial outer crunch gives way to a little soft layer underneath, which makes for a chewy finish; highly addictive. That said, I think these were sliced a little on the thick side for my taste and I prefer the version at Chilli Cool, in nearby Leigh Street.
Jelly fungus was another highlight; with a texture like a cross between jellyfish and seaweed, they were slippery customers, liberally sprinkled with sesame oil.
‘Strange flavour rabbit’ was lacking strangeness but delicious anyway (and very similar to this version I cooked recently), while boiled pork slices were forgettable, as was ox haslet. The real let down though was the BBQ prawns which arrived in a strangely charming novelty dish shaped like a fish but contained a mix of curiously flavour-sapped prawns, various shredded things and then, inexplicably, some flaccid chips. The kind of chips that only a Chinese restaurant can produce. Most remained untouched.
When all is said and done, I have to be honest and say that I was slightly underwhelmed by Snazz Sichuan. By the end of the meal, our noses were running and our napkins well and truly soiled and yet I felt it lacked the intensity of the food at Chilli Cool. I’m not sure everyone agreed that the food lacked punch but I have fonder memories of this crazy grouper hotpot (below) and of course, my first crispy intestines. I do remember feeling that my head might be about to fall off but personally I admire an all or nothing approach.
I would definitely return to Snazz Sichuan, particularly for that jelly fungus and hot and numbing pork but with Snazz and Chilli Cool being so close to one another, I’m going to find it hard to make that choice.
Tom Ilic’s (pronounced Ilitch – he’s Serbian) eponymous restaurant sits on Queenstown Road in Battersea, sandwiched between an Argentinian place which my dining partner described succinctly as ‘crap’ and a few carpet and lighting shops. A cheery cartoon pig’s head lurches forth from the ‘o’ in the ‘Tom’, giving it the air of a motorway service station or Little Chef. Plastic creepers line the walls and electric heaters blast out dry warmth in an already stuffy space. I keep my spirits up however, with memories of rave reviews: “hearty and generous,” ” excellent value,” “not for vegetarians.” I hope it’s one of those places that just bubbles away gently, quietly turning out consistent, delicious, unpretentious grub to the locals.
It isn’t. Sadly, our meal was mediocre and one element, inedible. Things started off OK I suppose. My tartare (it’s under the lettuce) and carpaccio of beef was fine, although frustratingly drowned by a cacophony of huge flavours: salad dressed liberally with truffle oil, sticky balsamic, bolshy parmesan. All lovely things but a powerful gang which swiftly beat the beef into submission. My friend’s starter of roast bone marrow (a single, squat stump) came with – you’ve guessed it – parsley, caper and shallot salad but no toast to spread it on and sat awkwardly alongside veal sweetbreads.
The ‘Degustation of Pork’ should have been great, seeing as Tom is considered something of an expert in cooking the swine; what I received was clunky, disjointed and disappointing. Two lobes of pink fillet appeared juicy and inviting, but were surprisingly dry. A rolled segment doused in gravy suffered from the same problem. A clumsy quinelle of mash was, surprise, surprise, dry and could be cut like a cake, each mealy slice working its way around the mouth before I washed it down with some of the (perfectly decent) house white. A kromeski was much better – excellent, even; crisp crumb encased soft shreds of flesh. I could have eaten a plateful. A supporting mound of lightly pickled cabbage was a pleasant foil to so much meat and black pudding had been treated well, boasting crunchy edges and soft fatty nuggets within. All redeeming features of the dish were overpowered however, by a bully of a spring roll (containing more of the shredded stuff) that was so sopping with grease it was simply inedible. My friend said it made him feel sick.
The time arrived to brave desserts and I was met with the familiar problem of wanting both cheese and ice cream. We shared cheese (nothing significant to report), and the only dish which had an ice cream element: a cheesecake and chocolate affair. The cheesecake was forgettable; was it vanilla? White chocolate? A scoop of black pepper ice cream on top was far more interesting, as were some poached baby pears. In fact, just those two elements together would make a confident and charming dessert.
The ethos of Tom Ilic is supposedly to produce unfussy, generous, boldly flavoured food at low prices but instead I found it confused. The number of elements on the plate is at odds with this approach and attempts at more complicated arrangements such as my degustation lacked finesse. Service was sweet, water was tap and the restaurant itself perfectly adequate, if a little dated. Without doubt the best thing about the meal though, was the fact that my friend, Chris, had bid £100 for it (considerably more than it was worth), as part of the recent Blaggers’ Banquet event, and so did a brilliant and generous thing by giving £100 to charity. Disappointing meal aside, that’s money well spent.
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