Le Champignon Sauvage - Cheltenham

I've got a wish list of restaurants relentlessly processing through my brain, an organ that, lets face it, can ill afford any of its limited resources to be used up in such a frivolous fashion. Nevertheless it’s there *slaps forehead to emphasise* and it’s constantly changing and evolving as my tastes change, restaurants close and new restaurants open. But for the past couple of years, two Michelin starred, Le Champignon Sauvage in nearby (ish) Cheltenham has featured prominently in my noggin and finally, last week, I ate there. 

The Chef and owner, David Everitt-Matthias is often described as a ‘Chef’s Chef’ which basically means he’s a serious grafter, always to be found cooking in the restaurant’s kitchen, in fact, famously he’s never missed a service in twenty five years, if he’s not there Le Champignon Sauvage is not open. An amazing record in an industry, which is notorious for long hours, hard work and uncompromising attention to detail, especially at the two Michelin Star level. 

Last week, I had a rare day off work and although I haven’t quite been knocking my cods off non-stop for twenty-five years, I've been working pretty hard lately and reckoned I deserved a bit of a treat, so a solo lunch at Le Champignon Sauvage it was.

After arriving and being ushered to a sofa in the bar area I sipped a cheeky pre-meal gin and tonic whilst studying the menu, I decided to go for the three course set lunch.

An amuse of a blue cheese and walnut cookie with rye crisp bread, smoked horseradish cream and pickled pear was placed in front of me and I was faced with something of a dilemma, as well as a beautiful looking piece of grub.

If I'm eating in a restaurant and planning to write about it, I do my utmost not to draw attention to myself. I take photographs as surreptitiously as I can and generally keep it low key. I want it to be as fair a write up as possible. But here I was in a hushed bar area with the manager and two staff standing just nearby with a dish I wanted to take a photo of just sitting there. In addition, Le Champignon Sauvage very specifically states on their menu ‘no mobile phones in the dining room’, which is fair enough. How would they feel about me whipping out my massive (yeah) Nikon?

Honestly. I sat there and agonised about this for a good five minutes, my food untouched in front of me before deciding to deal with the situation head on, I asked if they minded if I took a photo. ‘Not at all’. Phew.

The blue cheese and walnut cookie was delicious by the way, the incredibly short savoury pastry, filled with a fresh blue cheese cream. The accompanying rye crisp bread with smoked horseradish cream and pickled pear was equally delicious and looked almost too beautiful to eat, right up to the point I shoved the lot in my gob.

Shown to my table, I was offered a selection of bread rolls but they had me hooked instantly with the bacon and shallot brioche, which was frankly incredible. Seriously, some of the best bread I’ve ever eaten, (easily as good as the Ledbury’s) beautifully textured and sweet with both the saltiness of the bacon and a subtle shallot flavour throughout. Later I tried some of the other rolls proffered, just in the interest of being a greedy bastard and it’s fair to say they were all bloody nice. 

A second amuse followed, Jerusalem artichoke panacotta with field mushroom puree and smoked bacon foam, and I made pretty short work of it. It was surprisingly refreshing with the smooth, savoury, earthy flavours of the panacotta and the salty smokiness of the bacon foam. Lovely.

My first course proper, duck confit, crispy egg yolk, fig purée and pak choi, was beautifully plated. I sat there for some moments, just admiring the composition before wading in. The combination of rich duck confit with the sweetness of the fig and the fresh green crunch of the pak choi was superb. The crispy egg yolk was interesting in a cheffy, technical kind of way and rather pleasant to dip bits of confit into.

Lamb fillet with poached apricot, aubergine, garlic yoghurt and Moroccan spiced sauce…where have you been all my life? I just can’t believe this dish is on the set lunch menu, it was phenomenal. Seriously one of the best plates of food I’ve eaten anywhere. I don’t even know where to begin; the lamb was so tender and there was so much of it! The sweet dots of poached apricot and the subtly spiced sauce, just amazing. I ate every last bit, meticulously scraping my plate back into a pristine state.

I was starting to feel a little stuffed at this point, but I was enjoying this lunch a hell of a lot.

A pre-dessert of rice pudding, greengage compote and milk foam was probably the most conventional tasting thing I ate. Don’t get me wrong; it was delicious but just not quite as impressive as any of the previous courses.

However, chocolate delice with milk ice cream, buerre noisette and butterscotch was off the frigging chart. I don’t think I need to describe it to you, the photo says it all. It was just lovely.

If you go, definitely order coffee and petits fours. It’ll be the best £3.50 you've ever spent. What arrived was a slab of treats, to say it was generous doesn't quite do it justice.  I couldn't believe it. Ridiculous and all of them threw me slightly. Some looked quite conventional, but each had a hint of some unusual flavour twist. Yes. Of course I ate all of them and pretty much waddled out of the restaurant as a result. 

So, do not wait two years like I did. Go and eat at Le Champignon Sauvage as soon as you can. I promise you will not regret it. My bill, including a gin and tonic, two glasses of wine, three courses (with additional bits and bobs), a £5 supplement for switching to an a la carte dessert, petits four and coffee but not including a tip came to £56 That’s right, FIFTY SIX QUID!! That’s for one of the best lunches I've ever had, at a two Michelin starred restaurant with a chef in the kitchen who’s right at the top of his game. I don’t want to lower the tone, but of course, being me, I shall. WTF?

Seriously. Go and enjoy.

Le Champignon Sauvage
24-28 Suffolk Road
Cheltenham
Gloucestershire
GL50 2AQ

Telephone: 01242 573449

http://www.lechampignonsauvage.co.uk

The Square - London

London restaurant, The Square is somewhere I’ve wanted to eat at for ages. Over the past few years, I’ve heard it come up again and again in conversation, often mentioned with some degree of reverence by people whose opinion I respect.

The Square is not achingly hip or in any way the latest thing, having opened in 1991; 21 years ago, it’s almost approaching institution status. With two Michelin stars and Head chef Phil Howard having been integral in both the career of star protégé, Brett Graham and the founding of his restaurant, which many consider to be London’s best, The Ledbury (Howard is a partner) . To say there’s an aura of excellence surrounding the place would be something of a frigging understatement.

I was due to be back in London for a day last week and I was fishing around for lunch recommendations, I always try and squeeze in a meal somewhere nice, wherever I can and The Square was mentioned once again. A chef friend of mine described it as the best meal he’d had recently and that was that. I didn’t need telling again. Booked!

Seeing as it was also my Dad’s birthday, and the old man is notoriously difficult to buy for, I thought I’d take him along, by way of a present. Strictly set lunch only, mind. What do you think I am, made of money?

So, striding down Bruton Street on a brisk, yet bright October lunchtime, the old man and I arrived at The Square, for a bit of posh grub. I don’t think we’ve ever been to a good restaurant together, at least not just the two of us, and I was looking forward to this immensely.

Greeted warmly and shown to the luxurious linen expanse of our table, we both settled in and took in a chattering room full of exclusively sharp-suited businessmen and women (this being mid-week lunchtime in Mayfair after all). As one half of this sartorially un-elegant, Essex duo of decidedly ugly ‘ladies who lunch’ I can say with some confidence, we stuck out like balls on a bulldog.

Not that this actually bothered me one bit, I’m well used to dining situations like this by now.

The old man, also seemingly unfazed by his surroundings surprised me by steering the conversation off-piste straightaway, stabbing his gnarled stump like thumb at a strangely luminescent feature wall,

“What do you reckon that finish costs?”

My Dad, just retired from a lifetime of working in London, constructing every kind of building imaginable, but mainly exclusive high-end, luxury type pads is a fount of arcane building industry knowledge. I realised he was out to shock me.

“Errrr a couple of thousand, maybe? What is it, polished concrete, marble?”

“No, a wall that size wouldn’t take the weight. It’s something called armourcoat, and a finish like that…”

…Taking a moment to appraise the exact dimensions of the wall with a professional eye…a dramatic pause, a casual intake of breath before delivering the good news…

“That’d cost you at least eight grand”.

The conversation then proceeded with a surprisingly amusing armourcoat based anecdote from a building job he’d worked on years ago. I looked around the elegant dining room again and thought it unlikely that anyone else had ever had the same discussion here. Ever.

Butter, unsalted and salted, riding atop flat backed glass swans made it’s way to the table. Posh. Digging into the offered basket full of absolutely superb bread, we paused to consider the set lunch menu.

But first, a baked beetroot and pickled herring amuse topped with cream and specked through with seeds was delicious and a nice way to kick proceedings off.

Ravioli of Langoustine with Crushed Cauliflower, Cepes, Pumpkin and Beurre Noisette was something else, bloody amazing basically. Ridiculously rich, of course, but as I munched away, the very distinct flavours came to the fore and were each in turn briefly discernible, the langoustine, cepes, lemon perhaps…If I could just once, make something so intriguingly multi-layered in taste and utterly frigging delicious I’d be a very happy man.

The old man’s plate of Tartare of Smoked Venison with Baked Celeriac, Crapaudine Beetroot and Chestnut Cream looked gorgeous, absolutely beautiful presentation and from my Dad’s feedback and the forkful I got of it, tasted the business. To be honest, the greedy bastardo in me wishes I could have eaten both starters. I have to admit, at the time I had no idea what crapaudine beetroot was, thinking it perhaps some particularly poncey French culinary term requiring a copy of Larousse to decipher. Turns out it’s a type of heritage beetroot. *groans and slaps forehead*

I’m from Essex; therefore I gravitate towards pie with mash, even in a two star restaurant. It’s the natural order of things. Yes, in this case a very swanky example, Game Pie, Savoy Cabbage and Creamed Potato, with a rich game Jus, poured over ceremoniously at the table. Cracking pastry, beautiful rich meaty filling. A dollop of superbly luxurious, whipped, creamy mash. Quite obviously crammed full of butter and cream, and all the better for it.

My Dad’s Fillet of Organic Salmon with Whole Grain Couscous, a Light Curry Dressing and Pomegranate wasn’t going down quite so well across the table. He was eating it, but as I had my head down like a pig in a trough, gorging on game pie, it wasn’t till the end of the meal that I noticed he’d left some. I did a startled double take, considering as I was, at that very moment, whether it would be truly bad form to lick my plate. The Old Man, ever the diplomat said it was really nice, but not as good as his starter. I tried a little and thought it was cracking. Maybe salmon just isn't my Dad's thing.  

A pre-dessert, turned out to be a dainty portion of the second option on the set menu, which is a nice way of doing business. You’re not left wondering what the other unordered dish was like. Warm Amalfi Lemon Cake with Black Figs and Honey Ice Cream unsurprisingly was ridiculously sweet and sticky, so much so that I doubt I could have finished a full portion, but truly gorgeous.

We’d both ordered the same dessert proper, Roasted Pear with Quince Puree, Almond Croustillant and Sherry Vinegar Ice Cream. First of all, I have to admit I had no idea what croustillant means until I looked it up, but now I’m sagely nodding my head and stroking my beard muttering ‘crisp, of course’.

Although the finer points of French culinary terms count for nothing when you’re stuffing the lot into your gob as fast as you can. This was probably the best dish I ate at The Square. A bona fide frigging masterpiece. The rich caramelised sweetness of the pear combined with the sourness of the sherry vinegar ice cream. Holy Moly, that’s what I’m talking about.

Finally, no parsimony with the delicious Nougat petit fours, they kept coming till we were both groaning and waving them away, stuffed silly.

A three course set lunch at The Square will set you back £35, a non-extravagant glass of wine, coffee and tip; you’re looking at just over £50. Not cheap, but consider that you could walk into any rubbish high street chain and easily spank £20 on lunch or dinner, and it would be truly abysmal, then why not forego that horrendous experience two or three times and treat yourself to a posh lunch where the food will be incredible and the service faultless? Makes sense to me.

As you may have gathered from the write up, the food at The Square was pretty much faultless. The front of house and waiting staff complete professionals, striking just the right balance between being friendly; putting you at ease but with a nice level of formality too, just to remind you that this is an upmarket joint.

If I had to question any aspect of the experience at all, it would be the dining room itself. It’s very businesslike, very corporate and somehow quite characterless. Compared to say The Ledbury, which also has two stars but feels, to me at least, very different, more interesting and pleasing to the eye.

But, it’s all splitting hairs when you can eat dishes like the Langoustine Ravioli and the Roasted Pear with Sherry Vinegar, quite possibly two of the nicest things I’ve eaten, ever, anywhere.

The Square
6-10 Bruton Street

Mayfair

London

W1J 6PU

Telephone: 020 7495 7100

www.squarerestaurant.com

St John - London

There can be no doubt that St John is a legendary British restaurant. Chef, Ferguson Henderson’s austere, stripped back style is widely credited with almost singlehandedly kick-starting a renaissance in eating offal with it’s ‘nose to tail’ menu policy. Chef and outspoken ‘no bullshit’ food pundit, Anthony Bourdain credits St John as being his favourite restaurant in the world and describes Fergus Henderson as a ‘reluctant spiritual leader’ to a whole generation of chefs.

Back when I worked in London, for years I was ensconced in an office, just a few minutes down the road from St John. In fact, I walked past it at least twice daily. That’s the closest I ever got. I never ate there once. I wasn’t confident enough. I often stopped on the pavement outside to study the menu. It seemed pretty expensive and I didn’t know what most of the dishes were, in fact, some of them sounded positively horrific, words plucked from abattoir sweepings and deposited straight onto a plate. I always backed away, intimidated.

Last Friday, finally, I returned to my old stomping ground, older, wiser, fatter. Lunch for one booked at St John and far from being intimidated, I was incredibly excited.

The restaurant itself, housed in a former bacon smokehouse has an unusual feel to it. You initially enter a cavernously high ceilinged, blinding white, bare walled, factory space, flooded with natural light. This area, houses the bar, a bakery counter and a few tables. Just to the right, up a small flight of stone steps is a door marked ‘dining room’ and this is where I headed.

This room is also large, but much lower ceilings give it a darker and definitely more intimate quality than the almost industrial glare of the entrance hall. Despite sharing the same spartan whitewashed walls and stripped back utilitarianism, it feels somehow very comfortable. The stark architectural design softened by being well worn and lived in. It’s a fantastic space and in the middle of lunchtime, it was bustling.

One of the most pleasing aspects of eating on your own, despite the fact that it feels so indulgent, is that the whole dining experience is somehow intensified. Your concentration, with no distraction offered by a companion is pin sharp. You take absolutely everything in.

In between reading the menu, I idly scanned the room, watching the waiters and waitresses work, jacketed in long sleeved chefs whites and white aprons. Admiring their professional hustle, constantly glancing in hurried passing at their tables, checking. Well-drilled service is a joy to observe.

Chewing on excellent sourdough bread, I waited for my starter. I’d ordered a St John classic, an iconic dish that is apparently always on the menu, Roast Bone Marrow and Parsley Salad. Before arriving, I’d actually consulted Twitter for recommendations on ‘must order’ dishes, and this one came up again and again, unanimously in fact. Anthony Bourdain has singled this out as the last thing he’d wish to eat if on Death row. No pressure then.

My waiter explained to me that the best way to eat it, is to hold the bone over the sourdough toast, push the marrow through with the supplied pick type implement, spread it, sprinkle liberally with salt and then heap with the parsley salad. What can I say that probably hasn’t already been said? It’s absolutely bloody amazing. It doesn’t get simpler than some roasted veal bones, toast, a parsley salad and some salt but combined together? Oh frigging yes. My first bite of this was a definite eyes rolling back in the head moment, the soft jelly like marrow oozing over and into the crisp, hot sourness of the bread, cut through with the sharpness of the piled on parsley, capers and shallots. Simply incredible.

 I’d asked my waiter for a glass of wine to accompany my roasted bones, and he recommended a ‘Fantasie 2010’ Chateau de Jurque, Jurancon which at £8.10 a glass was a bit more than I normally like to splurge (one could get two whole frigging bottles of Asti Spumante for that) but I decided to push the boat out and it was a great choice, absolutely spot on match.

Roast Middle White Loin, Carrots and Trotter arrived, personifying the admirable St John aesthetic of no needless decoration or frippery. This was a very functional looking plate of food indeed. Middle White is a particularly tasty rare breed pig and here the meat was beautifully cooked, tender and full of flavour with attendant perfect crackling. A whole braised carrot was a surprisingly decent vegetal accompaniment. The trotter aspect of the dish was presumably personified in a small piece of porky jelly. It was all undoubtedly good, but it didn’t blow my socks off, like the previous course had.

Comfortably slipping into the fine dining booze groove and feeling mistakenly affluent, I asked for another recommendation to accompany my pork. A chilled red, ‘Les Copines Aussi’ 2010 at £7.40 a glass was, once again, well chosen by my waiter and would have been a really nice drink at anytime really.

I’ve made the St John Eccles Cake recipe at home, and I was intrigued to see how my efforts compared (pretty well as it turns out). Another stripped back, almost geometric plate arrived in the form of a perfectly spherical cake, alongside a triangular slice of Lancashire cheese. Undoubtedly simple but the genius here being that the two seemingly disparate items complement each other perfectly. Beyond the crisp flake of the confining pastry, the Eccles cake filling was sticky, dry and beautifully spiced. The earthy creamy tang of the cheese was sublime.

After a decent coffee, and a momentary period of reflection and digestation (is that even a word? If not…it should be). I swayed outside onto the pavement swooning from feeling over £60 lighter. For me, that’s a pretty damn expensive lunch. But, you know what, it was worth every single penny.

I bloody loved St John. It’s a one-off and quite obviously continues to live up to its considerable reputation. The whole experience was just an absolute pleasure from start to finish. Every aspect is so perfectly pitched, the dining room, the friendly yet admirably professional staff, and the menu full of interesting, seasonal and often iconic dishes.

St John feels somehow imbued with the stripped back essence of what makes eating pleasurable. That it’s so very British is just incredible. There just isn’t anywhere else comparable.

St John
26 St John Street
London
EC1M 4AY

Telephone: 020 3301 8069
www.stjohnrestaurant.com

Club Gascon - London

Club Gascon is a restaurant I’ve wanted to eat at for quite some time. I worked in the Smithfields area for years, and I often walked past, stopping, intrigued to read the menu displayed outside, and then ambling off back to the office.

If I’m honest, I think I found it a little bit intimidating. The restaurant is housed in a very grand building. The classically attired front of house and waiting staff gathered around the booking desk near the door are just a little off putting to ‘window shoppers’ like me, trying to peer past them into the restaurant within. The menu itself was a little frightening to a younger me too, passionately French but also full of interesting, expensive ingredients and somewhat experimental flavour combinations. To my mind this was posh, grown up dining for city slickers spanking those lunchtime expense accounts. I just wasn’t ready.

Last week, older, grizzled, a veteran of a thousand amuses bouche and with an expanding waistline to prove it, I returned with a confident swagger to Chef Pascal Aussignac’s Michelin starred restaurant. I was there to review lunch for the Great British Chef’s blog and far from being intimidated; this time around I was excited.

For research, I’d been flicking through Pascal’s recipe book, Cuisinier Gascon and a lot of the ingredients and pairings were unusual to say the least. Despite being fiercely proud of Gascony and its classic food heritage, the book also features among other things, a tomato coulis with Fishermans Friends as an ingredient and white asparagus with treacle foam. What with the book along with studying the current restaurant menu, I’d come to the conclusion that the food being served here, in my experience, is unlike anything else in London. And I don’t know about you, but for me, that’s an exciting thought.

Taking a seat, the restaurant was smaller and more intimate than I imagined, but unusually, when compared to other Michelin ‘temples to fine dining’ touches of real character were evident throughout. The bar, adorned with the most incredible and riotous flower arrangement I’d ever seen, was (I was informed by the waiter) put together by Chef Pascal Aussignac himself. Apparently, he does all the restaurant’s flowers. It’s his second great passion after cooking.

I also have to mention the very unusual tableware. Handmade in Gascony, it was absolutely beautiful to look at and I had to fight down a very strong ingrained Essex urge to ‘half-inch’ just a little bit.

Casting my eye around the restaurant, as you’d expect in the city at lunchtime, my fellow diners were a mostly well-heeled, business suited crowd, but not exclusively so. I didn’t for one second feel out of place or uncomfortable in my flip-flops, verging-on-the-obscenely-tight-cycling-shorts and Hawaiian shirt.
Just kidding.
Honest.

There are various menu options at lunchtime. I just had to go for the tasting menu priced at £55, although the ‘Dejeuner Club’ menu (£25 for 3 courses) definitely caught my eye. In actual fact, I might pop back at some point and try that too because it looks like a complete bargain.


A jug containing a ridiculously tall Parmesan crisp was deposited on my table. I couldn’t help but wonder how many of these get broken as they’re brought from the kitchen. Nevertheless it was delicious.


Next, a slate containing a curious amuse selection. Due to the combination of the almost impenetrable French accents of the waiters and my rubbish hearing I wasn’t entirely sure what I was eating until later. The Smoked Chestnut veloute was superb, I could have done with a bit more of this. The Peanut ice cream with crispy Pearl Barley was also nice, but I’m not sure the sweetness worked against so many savoury offerings. The Nogoshi Pear dipped in Hazelnut Oil was refreshing, but a bit lost on me. I didn’t really get the Hickory Jelly and Chestnut Powder at all. I thought it just a bit too subtle.


But then everything changed. The most amazing bread I’ve eaten for ages. Served with both smoked and Foie Gras butter. The sourdough in particular was bloody amazing, light but with an incredible crust and an almost smoky flavour. It was phenomenal. Almost as equally amazing, the Brioche rolls had a perfect crisp shell like exterior and almost sweet cloud like texture inside. I could have happily sat there all day eating the bread to be honest. The butter, particularly the whipped Foie Gras version was rather nice, a bit salty with just a hint of flavour from the fatty foie gras.


Sea Urchin veloute, Cauliflower Pulp & Crisps arrived, and bloody hell; it was one beautiful looking plate of food. The waiter, having obviously sized me up straightaway, told me not to eat the decorative grass. The veloute was rather lovely, light, creamy and quite intense. I wasn’t entirely sure about the accompanying crisps. They looked amazing, but as is often the case with fine dining, I wasn’t entirely sure how I should eat them. Dunk them in my veloute? Munch them like giant luxury Quavers covering the table in debris? Combine the different colours to make new flavours? God knows. I took to breaking off pieces carefully and nibbling on them in a dainty fashion. For the record, I believe the flavours to be purple potato, seaweed and scallop. The scallop one tasted best.


Pressed Foie Gras, Gingerbread; Pumpkin & Fir Tree Marmalade was bloody delicious. The subtle spice note of Ginger is a classic partner for Foie Gras and the tangy sharpness of the marmalade cut through the flavours beautifully. Despite being very rich, it really was superb.


With no small degree of ceremony, shellfish bisque was poured over my bowl of squid and saffron-piquillos relish at the table. The bisque was soft and aromatic; the squid beautifully tender, as were the folded sheets of swede taken together with the subtle tang of the piquillos relish. It was altogether a lovely dish, delicate and light. I was intrigued by the addition of tapioca, which gave the bisque a really unusual texture. Something I’ll be messing around with when cooking at home…


Braised Ox Cheek with an Anchovy sauce, pieces of confit Lemon and Avocado Chantilly doesn’t sound like the likeliest combination does it? I started eating, and oh my God, it was amazing. Tender, sticky, intensely savoury, absolutely perfectly cooked. I was lost in the moment, savouring the flavours. What’s that? At this point, somewhat embarrassed I realised that I had been making contented soft whimpering noises to myself whilst eating. Honestly, that doesn’t happen often. This was one of the best dishes I’ve eaten for ages. Loved it.


A pre-dessert White Chocolate cone, with crushed Wasabi Pea coating and a Blood Orange jelly filling was unusual and a good bridge between the savoury and sweet courses.


The following dessert of Red Macaroon, confit fruits in Armagnac and Rose Champagne Jelly was perfectly decent, and a nice light way to end the meal, but perhaps lacked the inventiveness of some of the previous dishes. I think as it was so ridiculously wintery outside, I really was in the mood for something a bit more stodgy and filling.


The petit four however, win the award for some of the nicest ones I’ve ever seen. They were beautiful, served on a crisp edible chocolate shell.

Overall, I really enjoyed lunch at Club Gascon. The service was perhaps a tiny bit more stiff and formal than I’m used to, but that’s to be expected when fine dining in a French restaurant. To be honest, I actually quite enjoy watching real professionals work the room.

The food is obviously very French but despite working within this classic framework, it often veers off unexpectedly on a very experimental tangent. I don’t think I’ve seen a menu quite like it. Pascal Aussignac’s food itself is beautifully cooked and extremely interesting. Yes, a few elements didn’t quite work for me. I’m thinking some of the amuses and the crisps accompanying the sea urchin veloute. But on the other hand the Ox Cheek dish in particular stands out as one of the best things I’ve eaten for a long time. At £55 the tasting menu is pretty good value, but as I mentioned earlier, I will definitely be returning to sample the 3 courses for £25 lunch menu which looks to be a complete bargain.

Club Gascon
57 West Smithfield
London
EC1A 9DS

Telephone: 020 7796 0600

http://www.clubgascon.com



*This was written as a guest post for The Great British Chef's blog, as such I didn't pay for the meal*

The Pony & Trap – Chew Magna – Bristol

Eating out quite often, as I do, it’s a rare and rather wonderful thing to eat somewhere and be completely taken by surprise by the whole experience. In this case, to be honest, I was less surprised and more absolutely blown away. Last weekend, a meal at The Pony & Trap in Chew Magna, just outside Bristol, massively exceeded any expectation I had and has left me gagging to go back and eat there again.

I first heard of The Pony & Trap pub when it was awarded a Michelin star just over a year ago (Michelin may have it’s faults, but they definitely play a role in bringing some new quality restaurants to the public’s attention). I’ve been wanting to give it a try ever since, but it’s countryside location, around 10 miles south of the city always seemed a bit of a pain in the arse to get to, especially when, like me, you don’t have a car. I was pleasantly surprised to find however, after phoning around taxi firms for a quote, that the cab fare each way from central Bristol was a not entirely ruinous £20 making a visit entirely doable.

Cue headlights briefly illuminating a tree lined, pitch-black country lane, the slow crunch and pop of tires on gravel and the warm friendly glow emanating from within the pub, spilling out of the windows into the car park. The brief murmur of voices and then the sudden quiet, cold, still night air as twin red brake lights silently disappear into the darkness of the lane. ‘E’ and I had arrived.

The Pony & Trap despite it’s Michelin Star is still a proper old country pub; it’s retained the rustic, low ceilinged, timber framed look and it’s all the more impressive for it. It actually feels like you can walk in, and drink a beer at the small bar and wouldn’t feel uncomfortable doing so, despite the fact the vast majority of the pub is undoubtedly laid out for dining.


We’d come to review the pub for the Great British Chefs blog and had decided to try the six course tasting menu. Reading through, it looked superb, full of interesting local ingredients and feeling distinctly British in theme. We ordered a drink, sat down and settled in. It’s not long before an amuse arrived, Cornish Crab, Roast Garlic and Saffron Mayonnaise. A fantastic mouthful of fresh tasting, subtly flavoured white crabmeat, beautifully simple but with a delicious taste which set the tone for the rest of the evening.


Another amuse arrived in a small verrine glass containing a hot Crab Bisque with olive oil. It was beautiful. Silky smooth and incredibly rich. ‘E’ and I glanced at each other and silently rolled our eyes in a well-rehearsed look that all at once said ‘this is bloody good’ and ‘we’re in for a treat’.


A canapé followed; Pickled Beetroot & Ewe’s curd. Topped with a thin slice of shallot, I counted only three ingredients, so very simple yet absolutely phenomenal as I ate the lot and let the flavours play across my tongue. The curd coating the mouth and then the pickled beetroot and shallot cutting through the creaminess with a tangy sweetness. I recognised the Ewe’s curd as locally made by Tim & Angela Homewood.

Some bread followed, olive foccacia with a choice of homemade butters, anchovy or regular salted. The anchovy butter in particular was lovely, quite subtle and very savoury.


At this point, our first courses arrived. A somewhat unusual take on a Full English Breakfast for me, consisting of soft poached hen’s yolk, hodge-podge (homemade black pudding) fried potato, roasted mushroom jelly, slow roast tomato, tomato compote, pancetta and truffle cream. Got that? Bloody hell, absolute genius. I loved it, the classic English breakfast taken to the extreme with all of the composite flavours intensified. I liked the sheer fun and playfulness of it, using something very British, very familiar and taking a different slant on it. Really impressive and even more so because it tasted amazing.


‘E’ being the pesky pescetarian had an alternative first course of a Blue Cheese Panacotta with Smoked Pear Puree, Celery, Walnuts and Black Fig. Presumably this was equally impressive as she began quietly chanting the mantra ‘Oh my God, I don’t even like blue cheese and figs normally’ repeatedly. Lost in my own pseudo breakfast revelry, it took me a little while to realise she’d repeated the same sentence about 5 times and needed a slight nudge to break her out of the broken record loop. She loved it.


How does Grilled Bone Marrow, Brown Shrimp Butter with Capers, Garlic & Lime and Celeriac Puree (with toast to smear it all on) sound to you? To me it sounded like absolute frigging heaven. I’m pleased to say I wasn’t disappointed. In a genius new take on surf n’turf I gorged myself on the sticky marrow coated prawns muckily smeared all over the accompanying toast and had to restrain a strong urge to tongue the bone. Absolutely filthy, in a good way.


Meanwhile, studiously ignoring my bone tonguing antics across the table, pescetarian ‘E’ ate more or less the same dish minus bone, on toast and was equally impressed.


A small piece of Roasted Hake, atop a bed of chicken stock cream sauce, diced ham, chestnut mushrooms, girolles and tarragon followed. The fish and meaty sauce worked surprisingly well together, a good interesting dish but to be honest, the previous two courses were a hard act to follow and amazingly for me I was starting to get a bit full up.


‘E’ had the same roasted Hake atop a Clam, Saffron and Potato Broth and ploughed through it, declaring it delicious and that she was also starting to get slightly full now.

The waiter had recommended a particular wine to go with this dish, and I make note of it here because it was absolutely spot on, and something I could happily drink all day long ‘Grüner Veltliner, Soellner Fumburg 2008’.


Rabbit made an appearance next, stuffed with poached venison and wrapped with Parma ham. Served with carrot puree, char-grilled purple sprouting broccoli, rabbit liver, heart and a red wine sauce. Bit of a classic this one, very good, nicely cooked. Nice to see the liver and heart on the plate, they have a fantastic flavour. I really was stuffed silly by this point.


Pan Fried Fillet of Cornish Bass with a Haddock Fish Finger and the same carrot puree and char grilled purple sprouting broccoli for ‘E’. She was also nearing ‘full’ on the tank, but still managed to put it all away and once again declare it superb.


Over the brow and racing downhill to dessert, a lovely little light and refreshing bowl of apple sorbet with some granola for texture followed. I liked the cheap plastic seaside style ice cream spoons.


Dessert proper, a Peanut Butter Mousse and Dark Chocolate layered Chocolate Cake with Gingerbread, Gingerbread Ice-Cream and a Sesame Tuille. Very rich, maybe a little too rich as an end to such an epic meal. I particularly liked the gingerbread ice-cream which had an amazing viscous texture.


Finally, coffee served with some chocolate flapjack and rather delicious beetroot pastilles petit four.

So, a bloody incredible tasting menu with some amazing and inventive cooking, by the extremely talented Michelin starred chef, Josh Eggleton. We met him briefly afterwards and he struck me as very genuine and down to earth. A very nice guy who seems mildly surprised that he’s received a Michelin Star. Based on what we ate, he undoubtedly deserves it. This was up there as one of the best meals I’ve eaten all year, and is without a doubt the best meal I’ve eaten anywhere in Bristol. I can’t recommend it enough. Massively impressed. If I had any criticism of the tasting menu at all, and this is hardly a criticism, it’d be too much food! ‘E’ and myself are gluttons of some renown and we struggled near the end. Maybe ditch the bread next time?

A quick mention of the service, obviously in this case they knew I was coming, so it was bound to be attentive. But, nevertheless our rather tall waiter was very impressive. He knew both the wine list and all the dishes on the menu inside out, including the ingredients, suppliers and how they were prepared and struck the perfect pitch between friendly and professional. It’s surprisingly hard to get right and he was bloody good. Bravo.

So bearing all that in mind, how much do you think you’d pay for a tasting menu like that, excluding service and booze?
What if I told you it was £45 each.
That’s right, £45! I think anyone would agree that this is an absolutely ridiculous bargain of the highest order. I also had a quick look through the a la carte menu and the prices are equally bargainous.

All I can say is go, and go quick before they come to their senses and put the prices up.

The Pony & Trap
Chew Magna
Bristol

BS40 8TQ

Telephone: 01275 332627

www.theponyandtrap.co.uk

* This is my first restaurant review as a guest blogger for the Great British Chefs Blog *