158. The Banana And Every Other Bit Of Magic At The Wilderness.

 

 

 And at last it’s time for me to once more enter onto The Wilderness. And not a moment too soon. 

  It’s 12.30 and the place is filling up and the old faces are there to welcome us back. As previously reported it’s blacker than ever but it’s very comfortable and I feel happy to have returned in this post-COVID era and to settle in to my very comfortable chair, magicking up the digital menu and smirking at the hilarious and vaguely outrageous wine and cocktail menu, the cover of which takes the form of a near-Bacchanalian type of porn in which Sonal Clare is frenziedly showering himself (clothed obviously) in red wine. Sonal chooses for us an excellent Geŵurztraminer which seems to go with every course and we start with a pleasurable gin cocktail before the 8 course taster menu gets underway.

  When you have eight courses it’s not easy to know what to call a particular dish but let us call it a starter, or a first starter, or whatever you wish - I wouldn’t have thought that it was an amuse gueule for instance - but let us us not exhaust ourselves - and that starter is the first of a fabulous series of dishes trailing their way on to the table. That first starter is the remarkably flavoured “Gazpacho eel” - a tiny bowl of bubbly gazpacho with a spicy bite, eel roe, cucumber as you would expect and deliciously sweetened and pink with the presence of chopped strawberries. It must be summer.

  Then ‘Pea and elderflower’ - a product of a brilliant brain - perfectly cooked peas with a bite but not indigestibly hard, a minted pea granita and a dehydrated elderflower-flavoured delight. And so pretty, being a vibrant green and soothing white combination.

 

 Another starter though by now I’m feeling well and truly started. ‘Lobster and new season tomato’, a wondrous combination of lobster bisque and tangy, scintillating, deep crimson coloured tomatoes with an orange-coloured oil swirling with almost psychedelic effect. My dining companion and I are mesmerised by the originality and excellence of what is appearing before us and, more importantly, of what we are happily ingesting.

  A fish course. Clear, translucent, sensitively textured cod; we think it may well have served it’s time in a water bath but this is so much better than many dishes I have been served over the years in various establishments which have succumbed to be cooked sous vide. Look at the little lake it is surrounded by in the photograph - egg yolk yellow and straw yellow, like sunshine and just as spirit-lifting - and the sea herbs resting on the cod give added depth

 

  By now we are definitely in the realm of a main course - exquisite quail stuffed with a mushroom mousse, a fabulous quail sauce, a cheeky and highly appropriate raspberry ketchup, asparagus (how could one miss putting it somewhere in the meal at this time of the year?) and a remarkable little strip of brioche, sweet but also like the king of fried bread which shames anything ever tasted before served with any full English breakfast one has ever eaten.

  A second main course - exemplary beef with a gorgeous sauce and mushrooms and crispy chanterelle. What a joyous time this is. It’s goodbye to ox cheek and welcome to a tender, piece of real meat just like we used to have in the good old days when present day old blokes used to be young and light on their feet. Oh, and let me say, how clever it is to serve everything on white plates and in white dishes. How long ago is it since a restaurant did that? 

  Ch-Ch-Change .... . The banana, though a smaller version, first encountered at Nocturnal Animals, is back. My dining companion has never had a brush with it before. He is spellbound when he takes his first bite. I am purring contentedly when I bite into mine. What’s in it? It’s described as “a hybrid dish leading from savoury to sweet. Banana and Madras curry caramel custard, with a versus caramel, coconut and yogurt mousse encased in white chocolate. Hand painted to look like a banana”. Witty, clever, inventive, delicious, jaw dropping, a signature dish in the making.

 

 

 And so to the real dessert - ‘Milk and honey’, little balls of honey ice cream with a happy little ball of subtly flavoured lavender ice cream with honey gums, honey gel, honeycomb and an exquisite honey tuile in the shape of a honeycomb. Light and the perfect way to wind things up. But not quite, there’s an encore, the sort that only The Wilderness could come up with - ‘Hot Lips’ - soft-centred white chocolates in seductive red to kiss you while you drink your excellent cup of Brazilian coffee.

  This was not just an excellent meal. It was a fabulous experience. Everyone working at The Wilderness should be very proud of what they are doing there. This is a truly great restaurant. The Good Food Guide made a determined effort never to list it. Well let’s see - who’s still around? Ah yes, The Wilderness, reaching new heights. Where’s The Good Food Guide? Defunct, in the wastebin of discontinued publications.