88. Lunch At Opheem.

  With the government kindly informing us that my generation’s days are numbered by the inrushing tide of Coronavirus and the BBC gleefully reporting the death of yet another old person we Old Blokes presently have to think twice about the risks of going out to eat. We also have to think of the benefits of dining or lunching out at this particular instance. 

  For example, it is rather easier to get a reservation at short notice at a popular fine dining restaurant than it would normally be. And judging by how empty the cross city train to New Street late morning on a Friday was and how quiet New Street Station was mid-afternoon on the same day, when one might expect the crowds to be building up, it seems that one is actually less likely to encounter other humans potentially seathing with viruses than one is in one’s own home.

  On Thursday evening I had the thought I would like to visit Opheem which I had not dined at since October 2018 and was surprised I could get a reservation at this one Michelin starred restaurant for Friday lunch. That was thrilling in itself.

  The journey there was a little anxiety-inducing with the constant threat of a virus-soaked traveller getting on the train and choosing to sit in my immediate vicinity but I did not hear a cough all the way to the restaurant and no-one came into view sweaty with fever. Which is unusual in itself, usually in normal times the train is full of coughing, sweaty people.

  The menu was not so different from 16 months ago. Well, if you’ve got great dishes and they’re selling well why ditch them?

  Suddenly it came to me, with all this threat of limited mortality in the air, that I was rather like a condemned man being allowed to choose his final meal (not that I’m expecting an immediate shuffling off of this mortal coil despite what the BBC may suggest). Well, this final meal was really rather splendid. First a joyous little trio of amuses bouches (apparently that term is still in use). The precise details of these little dainties are rather complex and therefore forgotten by me (well I am an Old Bloke) but there was a charming little strawberry-flavoured spicy ring which I ate in 6 bites and it was, very cleverly, only at the end of the third bite that the spice began to make itself apparent. Very clever. There was also a delicate little tartlet with a cheesy mousse and, one was recommended the order in which to eat them, finally a chunk of pickled, peppery cucumber adorned with nasturtium and pansy flowers which is a memorable little tidbit.

  Then the bread. A shiny glowing brioche perfectly deliciously covered in small lamb chunks and served with a lamb pâté. Is this the best bread served in a Birmingham restaurant?

  At this time my Monkey 47 and tonic arrived. Gins and tonics rarely come along so beautifully flavoured - the barman had got to work with some grapefruit which had raised the old monkey up to a higher level than it already sits at. We discussed his gem afterwards and he said that he finds that Monkey is best served in that style though a Mediterranean tonic may be optimal or, alternatively, serve it enhanced with cucumber and mint.

  Back to the food. Remember the cost of the lunch is £35 including a half bottle of excellent house wine. Cry your eyes out, London. I chose the delightful Shaami, 3 little patties of finely minced mutton served with heritage tomatoes (more visual that gustatory in their contribution to the dish) and a scintillating green chutney.

  And so to the main act - Thangri masala - which looks like the name of a species of wildlife rather than what it really is - a plate of delicious perfectly cooked tandoori chicken breast with a generous quantity of successfully spicy tomato and fenugreek sauce. The dish looked slightly inelegant but not in the least unappetising, the rich thick sauce beckoned temptingly and delivered the goods.

  For dessert, Rewandchini (does this mean rhubarb in Urdu or Hindi?, is there a word in those languages for rhubarb?) - forced Yorkshire rhubarb with rhubarb yogurt, pretty sorrel leaves and crumbled white chocolate giving some crunch to the dish all coming together as a light and mildly exotic rhubarb crumble. Pleasant but not earth-shatteringly special. Also, served in a large bowl and difficult to spot when looking down into the deep well, perhaps it doesn’t have the delicate visual effect that it should.

  These were the choices on the lunchtime menu:- 

  A highly enjoyable meal. Something to savour on the dangerous, virus-infested journey back home where when I returned, BBC radio was broadcasting an interview with an ‘expert’ on how to prepare children for the impending deaths of their grandparents. Nice.

  No direct connections with food in  Birmingham and the West Midlands as far as I know, but it’s worth recording here that Michel Roux, of landmark importance in the history of dining out and gastronomy in Britain, died on 11 March 2020 at the age of 79 in Bray from a long-standing lung condition. He and his brother Albert made British gastronomic history when their restaurant, Le Gavroche, became the first British dining establishment to be awarded 3 Michelin stars in 1982 (it was opened in 1967 and received its first and second stars in 1974 and 1977 but returned to 2 star status in 1993 two years after Michel Roux Junior had taken over as the restaurant’s Chef Patron from Albert Roux. The Roux Brothers’ second restaurant, Waterside Inn at Bray was also awarded 3 Michelin stars in 1985 and still retains them.

The young Michel Roux (left) with his brother Albert.