Things I've learned this weekFollow

Dark red kidney beans have less fat and calories than chickpeas, and a higher concentration of antioxidants...making them a replacement salad staple.

I have learned to not shake hands with a left handed gun, but I learned that over 20 years ago.

Pedantry corner: Chris Squire is a bass player, isn't he? Did you mean Steve Howe?

for old model Rick 4001s with the annoyingly low bass pickup. Awkward as fuck to play, but no bass manufactured since has produced a sound with quite that silken, melted-butter smoothness.

I want to read the review!! C&P Nobster!

{Name of a local town:- let’s call it Anytown} has yet to become renowned for fine dining, despite a growing number of eateries that aim to be more than ‘just another restaurant’. The cult of the TV Chef has proved to be a two-edged sword; while motivating talented young cooks to create dishes that appeal, to understand the catering industry and to build a business based on quality, innovation and reputation, it has also spawned a generation of what James May describes as ‘food ponces’.

When I was asked to review {name of fashionable up-and-coming restaurant:- let’s call it ‘Food’}, I asked around. To be honest, I hadn’t heard of it, but as I’m an infrequent visitor to {Anytown}, that meant very little, and to be honest, it was refreshing to visit a restaurant with no preconceptions.

First Impressions

OK. The frontage of {Food} screamed ‘Italian’, with its Neapolitan-striped awning, the candles in straw-wrapped Chianti bottles on the pavement tables and the vague aroma of Venice’s canals emanating from the drain cover by the front door. Not the best of first impressions, but hey-ho.

As I entered the restaurant, the clichés eased off a little. The crisp, white table-linen and the clean lines of the pale walls said Stockholm more than Napoli. Still, I suppose they have IKEA in Italy. My booking was for 7:30 on a Friday evening, so I was surprised to find about 20 of the 40 covers empty. In a town not known for its late dining, this didn’t bode well.

The Maitre D’ was personable, prompt and only borderline obsequious. I was impressed that he’d made the effort to travel all the way to 1984 to buy his suit. He confirmed my booking (for one), showed me to my table (laid for two), and removed the place setting opposite, signalling the time-honoured “This guy has no friends!” message to the other diners.

He handed me the menu, and it all went down from there. The leaden hints towards “rustic Italian” on the restaurant frontage didn’t follow through to the menu. While there were some Italian dishes described (mostly southern, lemony, basilly, meaty Sicilian fare), the dish also celebrated the multi-culturalism for which {Anytown} is renowned. The result was as confused as a Ska Band playing Mozart on bagpipes.

The Menu

To some, the prospect of “Aubergine Soup with spiced Punjabi Croutons and Raita” might excite and entice. Hmm. Colour me unadventurous. Any mind that can concoct “Cornish Crab Salad with Pineapple and Fennel dressing” is either a genius beyond my comprehension, or should not be allowed within 100 metres of a kitchen.

Now my regular readers will know I favour a simple, exciting menu, to a confusing array of options, so they did score some points on simplicity, with 4 starter options, 2 fish dishes, 4 mains and 4 desserts.

My fears, however, were heightened at the apparent randomness of the options. Sausages I like. Spinach, I like. Nectarines, ditto. But how, in the bowels of Christ did anyone think this was a fusion made in heaven? I gave up trying to imagine why Dill, Artichokes, Rabbit and Mangoes would meet in the same kitchen, let alone the same dish.

The Italian connection had now escaped me (which is a pity, when I realise they’ve gone to the trouble of hiring an ill-dressed Mussolini look-alike Maitre D’). My heart lifted a little when I saw Cannelloni, but sank again when I tried to contemplate the crunch of peanuts and cashews in with the ‘special’ beef and asparagus tomato sauce. We’ll come to desserts later.

My choice

I opted for the ‘Home Made Pate’ with Lebanese flat-bread and mint yoghurt, resisting the urge to burst into “O Sole Mio”. I was pleasantly surprised; the texture really was rustic; slightly course, but with just enough texture. The peppery spiciness (and a hint of smoke paprika) were a pleasant surprise, and the mint yoghurt was a pleasing complement. Presentation was simple, if a little clumsy, but the waitress was pleasant and professional.

I chose a 2031 Montepulciano D’Abruzzo to accompany the main and dessert and was pleased with the choice and the reasonable price of £17.95 – a good deal for the last good vintage.

The main course that made my list was the slow-roasted belly-pork with herb-buttered mashed potatoes, smoked bacon relish and a blueberry reduction. It had every chance of being a crash-and-burn victim of a young chef whose ambition exceeds his skills and palate, but sounded worth a punt.

The wait that ensued was disappointing. My starter plate sat for 15 minutes after I’d finished, and another 10 minutes wait for the main was not appreciated.

The dish was, however, almost worth the wait. The Belly Pork was tender, but with the fat sufficiently rendered to give flavour without greasiness. The potatoes were seasoned to perfection, and the bacon relish aromatic. It really added something to the dish. Which, alas, could not be said for the blueberry reduction. The colour of a red wine carpet stain, the texture of phlegm and the taste of., . . well, phlegm. Still, leaving the purple bogies to one side, the dish would have worked.

By now the evening was growing late, so I passed on dessert. In contrast to the rest of the menu, it called to mind supermarket cafeterias: Cheesecake, Tiramisu, Apple Pie.. Zzzzzzzzzz.
I opted for an espresso as a digestif.

The bill was just over £40 for the starter, main, wine and coffee, so call it a round £50 per head.

Conclusions

{Food} has no clue what it’s trying to be. I really don’t mind if a restaurant avoids being locked into a single regional or ethnic cuisine, but the menu was baffling. Combined with the outward image, it was positively schizophrenic.

And the chef is desperately in need of a Jiminy Cricket on his shoulder, whispering ”Fruit? With that? Are you sure?”. His execution is generally very good, and his seasoning of meat dishes shows a real flair, but his excesses of ‘fusion’ and rather clumsy presentation let this down.
Sadly, a Food Ponce, I fear.


The prices probably reflect the restaurant {Food} is trying to be, rather than what it currently is. For £50 I can find Michelin Stars and a Maitre D’ that doesn’t make me want to whistle military marching songs.



Appearance: 6/10
Service: 7/10
Menu: 4/10
Food: 5/10
Value: 4/10
Overall: 4/10

I was hoping my Editor would keep his beak out of this.

Our cover is blown, Kavekk

There is a baker in Baltimore that claims to have developed Tiramisu. His is one of the better bakeries in town and I feel the sudden urge to visit it. Maybe tomorrow before work.