Dabbous

I am pretty sure that unless you have been hiding under a gastronomic stone for the last couple of years you will have heard of Dabbous. Opened in early 2012 to immediate critical acclaim, chef Ollie Dabbous' first restaurant became virtually instantaneously unbookable.  I sent an email back in May 2013 enquiring as to when I could book a table and received a prompt, polite but firm response notifying me that every table for 2013 was booked but I could lodge an enquiry from September for 2014. Yes, you did read that right; because they don't operate a 30 or 60 day policy like many places they were booked up for the entirety of 2013. Madness. This sort of hype can be dangerous and catching. After all, surely if its still this full two years after opening it must be amazing, no?

The critical acclaim was added to in 2013 when Dabbous was awarded its first Michelin star. That said, its like no other Michelin location I know of in London. Walls have the now ubiquitous crumbling concrete and plaster, the dining room ressembles the stark, metal gridded set of the recent Donmar staging of Coriolanus, I half expected a naked Tom Hiddlestone to be winched down on a chain between courses (it didn't happen unfortunately). Tables in the restaurant are packed close together risking bruising from sharp furniture leaving me wondering whether I would summarise Dabbous as painfully hip or painful hips...

Oskar's Bar downstairs has an extensive cocktail menu and offers a limited menu. When we arrived it was pretty empty so would be a good way to get a taste of Dabbous without the almost interminable wait for a table. Speaking of tables, after finishing two very well made cocktails we went upstairs with increasingly grumbly tummies, so far so good. 

We had been hoping to have a matching wine flight with the menu but couldn't find one in the list and the sommelier didn't mention or suggest one despite our prevarication trying to find one wine to match all the dishes, it was only at dessert time that we found it nestled away on the inside back cover which was a bit of a shame.

We settled on an ever reliable JJ Prum Riesling on the basis that its medium dry so works with a wider range of dishes (it was particularly fab with the coddled egg). The wine list is reasonably extensive without being too crazy off the wall. 

The first course arrived swiftly. Fat, dark green English asparagus spears served with virgin rapeseed oil mayonnaise and crumbled hazelnuts. It was very tasty undoubtedly. It did, however, seem to me that whilst its great to have wonderful ingredients showcased through simple plating and service, there is an argument that it is just asparagus and mayonnaise. Its not exactly highly technical. 

A bowl of avocado, basil and almonds in a chilled osmanthus broth followed. Certainly imaginative and clever in the marriage of flavours and very pretty tasting due to the osmanthus, I can't help but think that I might have liked it to be warm. 

Vulturous, circling serving staff tried to swoop repeatedly on our broth bowls (three in less than two minutes) leading us to sit with our spoons aloft in mid air purely to create a hiatus in an otherwise brisk gallop of a meal. The table next to us asked to slow down, the thumping beat of the music creating a slightly frenetic pace for both service and consumption that was not terribly relaxing.

Just as I wondered if I was staring down the barrel of a tasting menu to rival the "emperor's new clothes" of Restaurant Story along came the coddled egg with smoked butter.  A thing of such beauty & perfection comes along so rarely; silky smooth and like a warm blanket for my tongue I felt like I could have eaten an ostrich egg sized one but in reality probably couldn't it was so rich. I can't begin to properly describe quite how utterly wonderful this course was. 

Things carried on in the same inventive and delicious vein with the arrival of barbecued octopus with muscadel grapes.  An explosion of sweet juice from each grape contrasted the char on the outside of the octopus tentacles. Octopus can be a tricky beast but this one was soft and tender without a hint of rubber which must be a bit of an undertaking to barbecue. I could merrily have ploughed on eating portion after portion until I'd munched all eight tentacles but the next course beckoned.

Pulled veal with white asaparagus and summer truffle was tasty and I'd quite happily eat it again but not particularly memorable in comparison with the egg or octopus dishes.

I'm sorry to report that things then derailed slightly. Lovage ice was revolting, not a word I use lightly but completely applicable here. There are some things that are creative and interesting but should never actually be eaten and this is one of them. A blast of very intense, savoury, celery-like flavour but cold and frozen. Let's move swiftly on. 

The final course of the tasting menu was listed as "barley flour sponge soaked in red tea with Tahitian vanilla cream". It was perhaps not as pretty as many of the previous courses but more substantial and a nice eat. Essentially a baba like heavy sponge with sweet Chantilly cream, I'd challenge anyone to object to it but equally it was hard to get too excited about. 

I would summarise it as a very tasty baba that would have been even tastier with the addition of rum. Then again I find that most things become tastier with the addition of rum but maybe that's just me?

Where Dabbous is sadly let down is on the service front which I would categorise as lackadaisical with an insouciant air of cool. Male serving staff are all of the bearded and braced variety missing only a Quaker hat but perfectly genial. The girls are all size eight or below and some had that slightly dead-in-the-eyes look that comes from extreme hunger and boredom and exude an air of processing tables swiftly so the annoying people will leave.

Whilst they have a basic knowledge of the dishes being served that doesn't extend to detail about the ingredients used. My favourite interaction related to some really very delicious tiny waka mono green baby peaches from Japan served at the end of our meal. Or more specifically from Fukishima, a detail volunteered by our waitress. "Are you sure?" was our measured reply bearing in mind irradiated power stations and all that. The response came "well that's where my boss told me they were from but he might have been joking". I'm still none the wiser.  Other similar questions around ingredients or dishes were met with rather quizzical looks. Not your average Michelin star service. 

Between the volume of the dance beat based background soundtrack and the proximity of tables  to one another, you will hear everything from your neighbour's table and they you.  To our left two very amiable chaps were planning a baritone ukelele tribute to Leonard Cohen trio (fabulous idea and initiated a very fun conversation) and to our right a very Eurotrash couple were discussing the ins and outs of their friends' multiple divorces and transnational custody battles (less fun). The point being that we were so conscious of being able to hear everything they said that our own conversation was very stilted and limited to talk about our meal rather than catching up on our own gossip. 

Price wise it is pitched at the right level for the food and the experience at £59 for the tasting menu. A set lunch (£28) and dinner menu (£48) are also on offer for 4 courses. 

Dabbous is worth a visit just for those flashes of brilliance found in the coddled egg and the barbecue octopus but other dishes were not so great and its not a relaxing experience or somewhere that I would like to take someone for a special occasion. The egg is on the bar menu along with a rather delicious sounding beef shortrib sandwich so my temptation would be just to pop in for a cocktail and snack combination rather than fighting/ waiting for another booking.

6.5/10

Dabbous
39 Whitfield St, London WIT 2SF
020 7323 1544

  

Tom Aikens

I have to start out with an apology. I'm rather conscious that here I am merrily writing about somewhere that has closed down (albeit with a potential replacement in the pipeline). Jolly annoying I know as there is the risk that it might all sound rather yummy and then you can't go and have it yourself. So there we are; SORRY. But it was such a perfect dining experience that I'm downgrading that apology to a lower case and tiny print 'sorry'.  

I had initially decided against posting this article as the meal itself was a couple of months back now but I've been for quite a few meals recently at places that have been the subject of lots of critical acclaim and chatter and in various cases I just wasn't that wowed and in some I was downright disappointed. It has been months since I had a meal that I thought was mindblowing on every level from quality, quantity and innovation of dishes to perfection of service and the overall experience (other than the eternally perfect Medlar). In fact one of the last occasions that happened was chez Tom Aikens. I was very definitely wowed by the experience there so decided to post it any way as I'm very much hoping that we will see Tom back cooking at the highest level in London again soon. 

My wine tasting buddy S has dined at Tom Aikens on a seemingly weekly basis ever since I have known him and cannot say enough good things about the food,  wine and service. I think we may have to put him into therapy now that it has closed its doors. Either that or attach him to an intravenous drip of good German Riesling to ease the pain.  As soon as the news of the closure broke I was in touch like a shot begging to be included on his last pilgrimage. 

I even got there early which is pretty much unheard of. So early that most tables around me were deserted, see above. They soon all filled up though. I really liked the decor of the restaurant. Not too starchy but still quite slick. Quite dark but with a spotlight above each table making each table feel like its own little bubble. A single flower was placed on each table in a vase with a round bottom that made it rock to and fro like a metronome and convinced me that I was about to spill something. Staff were all lovely but sartorially speaking I did think that the sleeveless jackets and denim shirts were a step too far though (didn't get a photo of those, they were moving too fast). 

Tom Aikens himself is something of a Marmite character. Love him or hate him. If you were to form your opinion solely from the Twitterati then he would probably be pilloried.  Rumours abound of assault in the kitchen, accusing customers of theft and leaving suppliers up the creek without payment. None of it is good.  People who know him personally tell a different story. Who knows. Whilst those things are indeed important, right now as a diner my main concern on the night is how well he and his team can cook and what's about to go into my tummy.

Canapes included the thinnest slices of translucent gold potato crisp stuck together with frozen foie gras and cepe. Shortbreads with blackberry (bit too desserty for me as a canape),  and horseradish cheesecake rolled in fresh herbs. The bread was exceptional, especially  bacon and onion brioche. Who doesn't need bacon and onion brioche in their lives? Other breads included polenta bread, rustic buttermilk and cepe bread. You also get pretty spoilt on the butter front. Three options; cepe butter, bacon butter or sea salt butter. Um, all three please.

The wine list arrived in the form of an old edition of Hugh Johnson and Jancis Robinson's World Atlas of Wine with the restaurant's offerings pasted into the first fifty or so pages of the book. Yes, that many pages, it's a pretty extensive wine selection. It is the first time that I have seen a restaurant deliberately apply a lower profit margin to wines that are made from unusual grapes or are from lesser known regions which I think is a brilliant idea- anything that persuades people to take a chance on something other than their usual "go to" is fabulous. All the big hitters are there too but I'm not spending too much time poring over the contents tonight as we're asking sommelier Raphael to go freestyle on us.

Although there was the very tempting option of a tasting menu, I was wisely advised to go a la carte to get a proper big dose of each course. Whilst I do adore a good tasting menu there is something annoying about loving something so much that you're kicking yourself that you only have a couple of bites of it. I kicked off with venison tartare with smoked beetroot, hazelnut mayonnaise and horseradish snow. If you have read my experience at Restaurant Story you may already know that I'm not a big fan of "snow". There are only rare occasions when flavoured ice shards can add anything to a savoury dish in my experience. This was also the case with the venison dish, I hardly got the horseradish flavour at all- not that it mattered though, you could just have given me a tub of the hazelnut mayonnaise and I think I could have happily eaten it with a spoon.  I'm desperate to try and recreate it at home, as thick and unctuous as a mayonnaise could possibly be with a tooth cloying richness from the hazelnut oil.  The remaining ingredients were stratospherically good. Silky venison cubed alongside beetroot, the slight tartness acting as the perfect foil to the rich meat and mayonnaise with the leaves bringing a bitter edge.

The marinated scallop with chorizo red pepper puree and Iberico ham was a classic combination of flavours- nothing exciting or ground breaking perhaps but perfectly delicious nonetheless.   Deep and smoky with a little acidic bite from the red pepper.
  

We  entered the wine fray with a Galician  Ribeira Sacra which means "sacred shore" and I can see why based on the wine that it produces. Dry red but with sweet bursting ripe red cherries. I really do believe its true when people say that you can taste the sun and this wine was that philosophy in a bottle.

Next up came piglet belly with smoked apple and baked aubergine. As if roast piglet cooked two ways couldn't get any better it came topped with pork scratchings. It truly was amongst the best pork dishes that I have ever been served. The aubergine had a depth of flavour and smokiness that no baba ganoush has ever managed to reach in my experience.

I've just been given (thanks H!) a Super-Aladin hand smoker (post on that soon) so will be trying out smoking apple puree as soon as possible as it was truly a revelation, Sunday roasts will never be the same again. 

Beef short rib with red cabbage gazpacho, pickled shallot and oyster was extremely tempting but I just can't bring myself to love oysters. I've tried them every which way; raw, deep fried, steamed you name it, they just aren't for me. That said S said it was lovely and it did look great even though the red cabbage gazpacho was an alarming shade of virulent pink.

A carmenere was a bit of a curve ball and, like Mr Aikens himself is probably a marmite option. To me it tasted like the smell of a medicine cabinet that has both your Dad's vintage bottle of Brut or Old Spice in it as well as various sticking plasters and antiseptic wipes. I swapped it out for something a little less risque.

Barely does a restaurant meal go by when I don't add a cheese course especially if I've seen the trolley drifting around the restaurant during my meal. The trolley here didn't disappoint either, the Epoisses being a particularly gungey, smelly example (this is a good thing I promise).

I loved the wafer thin toasts, especially the gingerbread one, unusual perhaps with cheese but worked very well as did a glass of Maury. I'm a big fan of Maury as it has never let me down so far (although I can't guarantee there aren't bad ones out there). Sweet and full bodied enough to stand up to both cheese and chocolate but without the viscous stick-to-your-teeth characteristics of chocolate favourite Pedro Ximenez. S went for a glass of Savagnin which was ok I suppose and great for the palate of an aged Riesling connoisseur but by that point of my meal I'm well and truly onto the sweet stuff. 

Apple jelly, caramel parfait and apple air comes served on a giant stone egg shaped platter. Its basically apple in every permutation you can think of served with a giant claw like sweet beignet which when combined with the apple air (read 'foam') reminds me of the sea shore. For some reason whilst under the influence of a lot of wine I described the overall dish as looking like an alien egg and afterbirth but I promise you, it was utterly heavenly.

Who can say no to Tokaji? So Oremus 5 Puttonyos isn't the most original or unusual of wines with dessert but you just can't go wrong with it.  Honey, apricot, yep you've heard it all before but its all good. 

Petit fours may be the most Willy Wonkaesque plates of extravagance that I have seen anywhere. An exquisite caramel-filled mini doughnut left me trying not to lick my lips and failing miserably. A vintage metal box revealed shards of nougat and mini bars of chocolate. A separate dish offered up a sticky chocolate tuile and chocolate truffle. 

The bill came tucked inside a beautiful leather-bound, antique recipe book, nestled in a page bearing a recipe for Rumpledethumps. I'm not sure how good it would taste, nor did I 100% understand what it is short of being a kind of bubble & squeak but it has the best name ever and that alone makes me want it (minus the references to beetles though).

As always with Mr Aikens, the rumour mill continues to grind as to what the future holds. Twitter had its claws on display with noise about potential financial troubles, the internet talked of a possible move stateside to join his brother in New York. Put us out of our misery soon please and tell us we can eat this level of  food closer to home than the other side of the Atlantic!!

It was one of the very best meals that I've had in ages and I'm sad that I discovered it only on the cusp of closing. If you haven't been then I'm truly sorry but fight me to the front of the line if and when his new restaurant opens in the centre of town. 

Tom Aikens 
43 Elystan Street, London SW3 3NT

Gordon Ramsay - Royal Hospital Road

Life is so often a case of feast or famine isn't it? As the saying goes, you wait ages for a bus then three come along at once. I can think of so many aspects of my life where that has been an accurate analogy but none so much as my dining habits at the moment. Ledbury last week (blog post coming soon), Five Fields next week all bracketed by various foreign excursions and wine tastings. Yes, I know I’m a very lucky girl but my liver and my waistline are not thanking me. So it was with some trepidation that I faced a mammoth dinner at Gordon Ramsay Hospital Road for H's 39th birthday. Yep into his 40th year so may as well do it in style. 

Despite still bearing Gordon Ramsay's name the restaurant has had a bit of an overhaul that goes beyond just aesthetics. In April 2013 Clare Smyth became co owner and therefore chef patron and the refurb of the dining area (and addition of a new lounge and spirits library) reflect heavily on her influence.

I've been to Hospital Road once before some years ago and had a wonderful meal although its a little hazy as our table wasn't until 10pm so a few pre-prandials had been consumed in the Library Bar at the Lanesborough. I do have the wine induced, late night recollection of accidentally sending the petit fours back for "not having enough dry ice smoke- they're not Harry Potter enough". I was therefore hoping that this visit would have much more decorum which it did, for the most part.

I arrived early and spent a happy quarter of an hour playing with the wine bible whilst sipping an Ayala kir royale and munching on some fluffy little gruyere gougeres. All the big hitters you would expect from a 3 Michelin star restaurant are in there from the full gammut of Bordeaux Crus, through Burgundy and with a decent selection of non French, both old world and new.  A 1947 Cheval Blanc for £6,000 or 2001 DRC for £7,800 anyone?! Faced with a multitude of courses for which it would have been hard to get one white and one red to suit all we gave sommelier Jan Konetzki a (somewhat) free rein over wine (he's even got his own flashy website here) and we were pretty happy with the results especially as people swapped in and out different wines to suit their tastes -we must have been nightmare clients. 

A bottle of subtle biscuity Henriot champagne kicked proceedings off nicely and made a great companion to canapes of quail's egg, black pudding and pork scotch eggs,  cured salmon in shiso and Vietnamese style steamed buns with a soft truffled filling.

You have three menu options to choose from between a la carte, the menu prestige or the seasonal menu. They are quite relaxed about mixing and matching across the tasting menus and are genius at taking into account allergies etc.

An amuse bouche of cep cannelloni topped with fried quails egg arrived setting the scene for a long line of dishes with pour-at-the-table sauces, in this case a smoked chestnut puree. I can never quite decide if application of sauces at the table is a practical thing to stop waiters sloshing it around en route and spoiling the aesthetic of the plate or if its all part of the theatre, whichever it feels like it is de rigeur everywhere at the moment. 

Champagne bottle well and truly wrung out we moved onto the first dish proper; a poached Scottish lobster tail with lardo di Colonnata, pickled vegetables and coral vinaigrette. The lobster itself was on the firm side but very tasty. The first wine that the sommelier suggested was an unusual Navazos niepoort 2011. At 12.5% its striking towards the upper end of white from an alcohol perspective and veers into dry sherry territory on the palate. 

It proffered very little on the nose at all leading most of the group to change in favour of a soave style Italian from Giuseppe Quintarelli which was a nice easy drinker but much less interesting. I stuck with it though and was rewarded by a comparatively complex and unusual wine; definitely not a glugger but a quality wine.

The basic description 'Carbonara' of the dish that followed doesn't even begin to do it justice. It goes straight into my top ten dishes of all time. It is only 'carbonara' in so far as bacon/ham and eggs are involved, that is where all similarity ends. A giant raviolo is filled with smoked mashed potato and a soft hens egg. The pasta bundle is then wrapped in roast iberico ham and topped with caramelised onions before being submerged in a swirl of onion veloute and four year old parmesan foam. It was just a plate of awesomeness that could never have been too big. The fact that it was paired with a lengthy & buttery Pouilly Fuisse 'La Roche' 2008 from Domaine Barraud resulted in a combination as near to perfection as I can imagine. So good that I'm going to hunt some down for Christmas drinking. 

I was far from convinced by the original wine suggested to go with the beef short rib slowly cooked over charcoal with roasted langoustine, lapsang souchong broth and English wasabi; a Suertes del Marques from Tenerife and I certainly wouldn't drink a bottle of it but to give the sommelier his due it was a perfect match for the beef and langoustine. The wine was light enough not to overpower the langoustine but had a smoky, aromatic edge that blended well with the lapsang. 

The style of cooking at GRHR has definitely taken on an Asian twist since my last visit, the beef in particular being something I could have eaten in any number of Tokyo eateries. 

Venison loin was served on a bed of polenta, cep baked in chestnut leaf and Tasmanian mountain pepper. A waiter came to grind pepper onto the dish at the table which, combined with the polenta, all felt rather Italian trattoria (it turned out he was Italian rather appropriately). I can't honestly tell you whether the fact it was Tasmanian mountain pepper made a difference to the overall dinner but it sounds good.  (Well) hung for over 30 days, the venison had an extremely gamey taste which may be a little too much for some. Although cooked to perfection it wasn't the best venison dish I've ever eaten.

It was, however, accompanied by another rather moreish wine, this time a Chilean blend of Syrah, Cab Sauv, Carmenere, Mourvedre & Merlot 'Coyam' 2010 from Emiliana in Colchagua. It retails at around £15 a bottle and is available from the Wine Society and Tanners. As you would expect from a blend, it packs a reasonable punch with dark plummy notes. Whilst we are all used to H managing to throw his food and wine around the table (we've tried housetraining him to no avail) on this occasion he was adamant the blood red stain spreading across the tablecloth wasn't his fault and turns out it was true. Mr Konetzki had got a bit over enthusiastic with the pouring. As a result he was threatened by the other staff with "one of Clare's punishments", this made the mind boggle resulting in a game of thinking up suitable punishments involving kitchen utensils for various possible aberrations (bread roll dropped on the floor? Beating with a chinois..... etc) All I can say is that it seems like he was banished to the dungeons to await his fate as we didn't see him again for the rest of the evening.

Vacherin with white truffle was a cardiac in a ramekin. Silky smooth with a generous sprinkling of Alba truffle. Most of went for a slightly astringent viognier to cut through the grease and one of our number went with a Jurancon which ordinarily I would love but remain unconvinced of its match with the slices of Alba truffle. I went back to that Pouilly Fuisse and was glad I did. 

Green apple and lime sorbet with shiso, avocado and eucalyptus was realistically on the menu as a palate cleansing pre dessert but became one of the highlights of the entire meal. The eucalyptus jelly was delicate but unusual and contrasted perfectly with the apple and the fizzy sherbet added yet another textural dimension. As one of our group said "I don't normally like apple but I love this!". 

Smoked chocolate cigar with blood orange and cardamom ice cream was a delight and a piece of art on a plate. The soft chocolate filling had taken on a truly smoky, slightly salted flavour and the ice cream an inspired match thatI've already had a stab at copying at home. I went off piste and had a glass of Vin de Constance with it purely on the basis that I love it. Not the best match ever perhaps but I was beyond caring so much anymore. 

Highlights of the evening? The 'carbonara' with that amazing pouilly fuisse, the smoked chocolate cigar and the really rather lovely German sommelier. I'm hoping that they've let him out of the cellar. If you walk past and hear distant shouting, please call for help. On second thoughts don't, who wouldn't want to be trapped in that cellar?!

9/10

Gordon Ramsay
68, Royal Hospital Road, London.
020 7352 4441



This article is my first attempt at entering the Monthly Wine Writing Challenge (#MWWC5)

The Hind's Head, Bray

When you mention the name Heston Blumenthal to most people they tend to think of crazy scientific gastronomic experimentation. Neither the Fat Duck nor Dinner are exactly 'normal' restaurants are they? 

So what have we here? Heston doing posh pub grub? And being awarded a Michelin star for it....

After finding out earlier this year   when we visited Waterside Inn how comparatively simple it is to get to Bray and still have a drink, we got on the Windsor train from Clapham Junction and set off. Three quarters of an hour later you arrive splat in the centre of Windsor (worth a wander in itself) and then a 10 minute cab journey out to Bray). If you're more team North London then get a train from Paddington to Maidenhead - its quicker still in terms of both train and cab. 

Grapefruit tea

Despite the enduring Roux family presence in the small village of Bray, its fair to say that Heston is doing something of a "Stein" and building up a mini empire in a very small area. The stable that started with the Fat Duck now includes not only the Hind's Head just down the road but also The Crown which was purchased in 2010 serving more down to earth pub food.  There are parallels between Dinner and The Hinds's Head in that both play greatly on the use of little known old recipes and the history of food - if anything it feels more authentic in the tudor style surroundings of the Hind's Head than the more opulent London Mandarin Oriental.



After a hair raising cab journey (crawling at 20 miles/hr in a 60 mile area than 40-50 in a 30 zone causing a snake of angry traffic behind us) we needed a drink. The cocktail list at HH is small but perfectly formed. 

Strawberry concoction

Grapefruit tea was beyond beautiful. A delicate earl grey flavour was infused throughout by virtue of both earl grey syrup and gin.  My starter for ten was a strawberry confection which was nice but not mindblowing. Rhubarb fizz was a delicate aperitif with beautiful candied rhubarb soaked in the bottom of a glass of champagne.

It must be virtually obligatory to begin any meal at HH with a scotch egg (or three). A perfectly soft boiled quail's egg is encased in slightly peppery, soft pork sausage and a dark orange salty crumb crust. Heston very publicly spent a lot of time perfecting the scotch egg which has been copied from here to eternity since but this one rocks. 

Having already eaten a scotch egg I decided to stay away from meat for the starter and fixed on the jasmine smoked salmon with dill cream and pickled beets. The jasmine flavour was subtle but undoubtedly present and the beets gently pickled and soft. The salmon wasn't particularly smoky (and I do love a good dose of smoke) but had it been then the jasmine would have been overpowered I fear. 

It was good smoked salmon without any doubt but it was no competition for the chicken liver brûlée which was out of this world. I rarely suffer from dish envy but today was unfortunately to be one of those days. I become an irritant to all around me when this happens as I will just end up inadvertently mooning with puppy dog eyes at the better looking plate until a dollop of whatever has attracted me is handed over. Thank goodness then for the decent sized portions at HH. The lightest fluffiest liver parfait was concealed under the caramel crack of a sugar topping.  My only complaint would be that the sourdough bread was a little overcharred and the burnt flavour did permeate through the dish. A was also clearly taken with this dish as the following day a link to the recipe landed in my inbox and will be made very soon. You can find it on Red Magazine's website here. 

A opted for the Ham hock and foie gras terrine which was very prettily presented and tasted good but wasn't exceptional. The piccalilli was very zingy and rather too overpowering if you had it with the terrine (as is clearly intended). Nice but no rosette.

On the wine front, the list is reasonably extensive and varied if slightly on the high side (its definitely London prices). At £71 a bottle a Frank Phelan second wine from Saint Estephe estate Phelan Segur was a good claret, still young and purple on the eye but reasonably balanced in acidity and tannin for a non-optimal vintage. That said, it was far from cheap and I  found out later that it retails at around £20 making it well over a 200% increase. El Pajaro Rojo at £34 for a £10- £12 retail wine is slightly better value (and not vastly different to the £32 it is sold for at Tom's Kitchen) and a Chateauneuf du Pape, Domaine de Beaurenard, Rhone Valley 2007 is £37 at Sipp but £82 on the wine list (121% increase) so maybe I just got unlucky on the mark up. 

With bellies already rotund from scotch eggs and starters we moved towards main courses. I plumped for the veal sirloin on the bone with sauce 'reform' and soused cabbage and onion. I confess to not having been entirely sure that "Reform" sauce was but it had a quite sweet but piquant taste and viscous texture with a citrus lilt. Subsequent Googling confirmed that the recipe takes its name from the Reform Club in London where Victorian celebrity chef of the day, Alexis Soyer, created the recipe to accompany lamb cutlets as one of the club's signature dishes.  We all agreed that were we in a Masterchef-style palate test there was a significant chance that we would have mistaken the veal chop for gammon. It had the same sinuous texture and was smoky from its chargrill but still utterly delicious. Topped with strips of boiled egg white and sausage as well as a salty crumb it provided interesting textures to an otherwise standard chop. It was beautifully cooked and I came within a hair's breadth of picking up the bone and chewing but the surroundings ensured that I had some sense of decorum left (had I been in Soho I would doubtless have been a chewin').  

A ordered the Hereford rib eye with bone marrow sauce, cooked medium rare so the fat had melted beautifully into the pink flesh. The sauce was as rich as rich can be with blobs of bone marrow adding an extra gloss. Really good.

The french fries served as a side order were just that; fries. I had been looking forward to a portion of triple cooked chips a la Heston but was reliably informed by the waitress that they can't be served at the height of summer because the potatoes are too sweet for it to work (its a chemical thing apparently. Heston is good at the molecular stuff so we will just have to trust him on that one). Nonetheless I did feel a bit cheated out of my big fat chips despite the scientific reasoning. Annoyingly however, in referring back to their website to write this up I see they are back on the menu only a few days later. Hey ho, just means I have to go back I s'pose.

The oxtail and kidney pudding did look fabulous with the filling all glossy and soft encased in a lardy rich pastry. H adored it. I temporarily forgot that I really hate kidney which unfortunately I still do even after tasting it. If offal is your kind of thing though then the pudding comes highly recommended. 

Sides of green beans with shallot and coriander carrots were both tasty and naughtily buttery but you don't exactly come here expecting a waistline friendly meal.

Sitting in the Tudor surroundings and shovelling down the meaty dishes gives you a little bit of a feeling of what it must have been like to be Henry the VIIIth (less the murdered wives of course).

Cherry bakewell with yoghurt ice cream was light and crumbly with a lovely frangipane filling (the cherries were a particular triumph and not a million miles away from the gorgeous Luxardo Italian maraschinos) 

Chocolate wine slush with millionaire's shortbread was perhaps the most atypical dessert on the list. Two waitresses made clear that the two are best eaten together which proved to be true; the slush was not particularly inspiring or remarkable 

Lemon scented quaking pudding was not what I was expecting at all. The general consensus of people that I asked seemed to think it was a lemony flavoured pannacotta style dish which was accurate except for the fairly significant fact that its a hot dessert. Very hot. I liked it (especially playing with it making it wobble) but A & H were not sold at all. The sorbet was quite clearly frozen (a prerequisite for sorbet one would imagine) and had a very very tart flavour. I held my tongue until H had tried it but we both agreed the pervading flavour was one of cleaning product such as Vim or Flash. That makes it sound horrid which isn't my intention but it probably wasn't the best lemon sorbet I have ever tasted. There is an argument with various of these "forgotten recipes" that they may have died out for a reason. I'm sure noone in Tudor times turned round and announced a fatwa on warm blancmanges (if fatwas indeed existed) so perhaps, just maybe, people realised it wasn't so great and chose not to make it any more. 

Triple Rum Old Fashioned

We retired to the bar for a small post prandial, in my case making a bee line for the Triple Rum Old Fashioned. Consisting of three rums (spiced, white and Skipper demerera rums) it also promised theatrics in the form of "raisin scented rum smoke". Theatrical it was indeed served in a brandy glass with the raisin syrup dry ice smoke being poured at the table and inhaled (small tip, don't inhale too quickly it makes you look like a reverse dragon).  Much sweeter than a standard Old Fashioned, it was nonetheless very smooth indeed. At this point, however, the 'small post prandial' plan fell into disarray. 

Rum Punch

We had keen plans to return to London and find a good cocktail bar in which to languish until the early hours but at the risk of sounding lazy (ok, so we were lazy) we knew that once we had sat through the 45 minute train back we would have lost the edge and would probably slope home to the first episode of X Factor and a snooze. A decision was therefore taken to stay in the bar area and gradually work our way through the cocktail menu. 

The stand outs from the list were the Rum Punch which had a beautiful caramel buttery flavour to it and the grapefruit tea.

Chocolate Espresso Martini

The Chocolate Espresso Martini was good but perhaps little different from those served elsewhere. Combining sweet with the bitter edge of the freshly brewed coffee it fulfilled its purpose of giving me a second wind to carry on with the cocktail quest.

Nearing the end of the cocktail list (but in that obstinate slightly irrational mindset that it makes no sense to quit now when we are so close) we ordered the final four on the list; a Viola, a Manhattan, a Martini and a Pineapple champagne thing. 

The Martini (named '1891' after the year that the recipe was apparently written down) was a stonker. Made with crazily potent Plymouth Navy Gin - at 53% proof- it was enough to blow your socks off. The Grand Marnier and orange bitters flavour was so subtle as to be absent but that may well be because my taste buds had, by this point, been burnt away. 

1891 Dry Martini

The Viola was the one that noone had felt very inspired by but it turned out to be one the triumphs. A blend of cachaca, grenadine, lemon, egg yolk, lime, orange juice, and mint; it doesn't sound like a match made in heaven but it fell the perfect side of too sweet or too sour with a silky texture.

Viola

At this point the kitchen had reopened so it seemed churlish not to order a couple more scotch eggs and some devils on horseback for the road. 

Somewhere half way through the cocktail marathon Anna Friel and Rhys Ifans turned up providing Bray's celebrity spot of the day. Even the staff seemed quite excited at that one. 

At 7pm we finally threw the towel in and got a cab back to Windsor station. Boring but practical tip -  if you are coming from Windsor get the restaurant to book a cab to pick you up in advance, Surprisingly its cheaper than the rank outside the station and much better cars and drivers. One boozy train back to London, an accidental cheese purchase on the way home then snoring in front of Xfactor by 9pm. Excellent. 

Let's end on a gratuitous oozing yolk scotch egg photo shall we? Tummy rumbling?

Will I go back? I very much hope so.
8/10

The Hind's Head
High St, Bray, West Berkshire SL6 2AB
01628 626151