As March drew to a close, the last restaurant I visited before the balloon went up and the lights went down was the immaculate Opheem (Blog 88). It seemed perfectly right therefore that the first place at which I should dine out as I ventured out into this unnerving new Birmingham was again Opheem - I liked the symmetry of it but mainly I was just desperate to get back there and relive the happy delights of last March.
Thus venturing for the first time on to a cross-city train in late afternoon, the carriage being largely devoid of human life though two or three of them could not find it in themselves to wear a facemask - well only one actually was unmasked while two others seemed to think the right way to wear a mask was on the chin leaving the mouth and nose exposed to inhale and exhale any viruses in the carriage air, I headed for New Street Station and a return to contact with other humans who like food.
The welcome back to Opheem was delightful and I was rapidly made comfortable in the bar area and was soon joyously relaxed as I sipped at a sublime Monkey 47. My first two snacks were served to me as I lounged in my comfortable chair. Pleasure had returned to my life. The first snack was an oyster shell housing an oyster emulsion with blazingly spicy jalapeño juice and pickled onion and next to it a little cone with a pea ice cream sitting on soothing coconut with a pleasurable mild spiciness elbowing its way in. I could have sat there all night nibbling away at a few more of these pleasures. But I was escorted to the bar to be introduced to my third snack - a flaxseed cracker shard made memorable with little pipings of mustard and vinegar gels dotting its surface. Some of the ingredients of the upcoming menu were explained to me and I was introduced to the pink fir sweet potato from no further away than Warwickshire - to whom I was a new acquaintance (the potato not Warwickshire). The potato is remarkably sweet apparently and waxy (I thought that that might be good for chips but it has so much sugar that it rapidly caramelises and chips burn still only partially cooked). Then off to the dining room.
Starter - Bhutta, from Madras - back to the word, “Sublime”. A most perfectly enjoyable grilled corn with a wondrously spiced butter. Unmissable.
Tisria, from West Bengal - fabulously delicious marinated Orkney scallop with slices of radish and a Bengali lime and coriander dressing.
Tisria came with its own swirling mists:-
Now here the meal took a turn wisely aimed at ensuring the diner would not have eaten the 10 course tasting meal without feeling as full as any man can hope to feel. And here the pink fir potatoes from Warwickshire came into their own.
Aloo Tuk, from Sind. Pickled and barbecued pink fir potatoes with croutons covered with a potato foam and with a tamarind purée. The flavour and texture were delicious and by the end of the course I was beginning to feel that I was comfortably filling up.
Pao, a new bread for the restaurant- a generously portioned milk loaf with accompanying onion and lamb butter. Wonderful but a potato course followed by an impressive piece of bread is rapidly filling and a little difficult for an old bloke like me to cope with. I wouldn’t want to have missed it but the strain was beginning to show.
A refreshing sorbet to give time for the scenery to change to prepare the stage for the main acts.
Dopiaza, from Delhi. A boldly cooked and delicious monkfish served with Roscoff onion broth and a spiced onion compote. Perhaps the caramelised onion’s charred flavour was a little heavy for me but this was one of the peaks of the meal for me. But there again this was a meal with as many peaks as the Himalayas.
And finally to meat. By then feeling rather full. Dukka Maas from Mangalore. What a joy to be served with not just the omnipresent pork belly but also some fine loin. Beautifully cooked except that the loin was rather salty. I tried not to imagine the dear little faces of the curly haired Mangalitza pigs which provided the base for this dish as I cut lightly into the meat. The Roscoff onion contained tasty keema fragments and the hispi cabbage was there doing what it usually does. Sadly after the potato and bread courses I could make little headway with the lovely Basmati rice served with is dish.
A pre-dessert and then on to Pista which is a fine dining equivalent of a Jaffa cake made from Manjari chocolate and served with a neat little swirl of pistachio ice cream.
I was looking forward to some Lassi and greatly amused by what turned up to represent it. With shards of meringue riding atop the dish, strawberry ice cream and strawberry jam were nestled in the bottom of the bowl alongside half a small milk bottle-sized strawberry lassi and separately a bowl of what looked like a single strawberry on a heap of something I was told was not for eating. The faux-strawberry was a cheering liquid-filled strawberry-flavoured chocolate and quite an appropriate ending to this phase of the meal.
Back to the bar - all part of the deal - for a delicious Darjeeling chai accompanied by a Darjeeling tea-flavoured pannacotta and last but not least 2 petits fours - a rapturous Turkish delight and the final refreshment of a raspberry jelly.
So it was good night for now to Opheem where the food may really be the most exciting around and the staff really know how to look after their customers. I felt very comfortable there and the very well-spaced seating and tables made me feel very safe. So my dining adventures have started again and away we go with a turbo lift-off at Opheem. My stomach told me I’d eaten rather more than I probably should have done but I would have been sorry to have missed any of the splendid dishes.
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