With a treasured memory of my first visit to Andrew Sheridan’s About Eight on its night of opening to the public many months ago, though it seems like decades have passed since then, and in particular of a celestial venison Wellington which had its own immortality, I arrived at Craft/Eight with the anticipation of a puppy which has had a plate of grilled sausages wafted under its nose.
After a gratifying “Welcome back” I was shown to a small room, all black and red velveteen with little cubicles with three couples sitting sipping drinks and looking a little self-conscious. We were invited to watch a short video on screens well above our heads - old men shouldn’t be asked to perform such cervical spine gymnastics I fear - and unfortunately as I spent so much time adjusting my neck into a comfortable position I missed entirely what was being shown on the video though it might have had something to do with sustainability or it might not. Thence to the familiar and welcome sight of the old Craft bar to take our socially distanced bar seats for the drama to begin in earnest.
And things got off to a bang of exceptional gustatory pleasure. Three delightful little appetisers, each delicious, and presented attractively so that it seemed a pity to eat anything and ruin the the display on the counter, including, I think, and my aging memory of 8 courses rapidly fails me, a wonderful little cornet with parfait in it.
On to the main menu, presented now in a ‘comic book’ form rendering as little information about each dish as possible. The names of the courses were given and that was about it, the names, as far as I recall, were little or at all altered from my visit last autumn and were all twists on the word ‘eight’ and all related to landmarks in Andrew Sheridan’s career. The restaurant’s website features this menu which I think tells us what I was served during this gastronomic experience, which is a more accurate description of the evening than the word “meal”.
I had unintentionally ordered, and apparently paid for, the drinks flight which included only 2 wines, the rest being mixed drinks, some of them original concoctions, some intriguing, invented by Craft’s drinks manager. Well, it was interesting to try them.
Details of the dishes here will necessarily be scanty as I have forgotten many of them and the explanations for the dishes were, shall we say, detailed, but the little tart with its ubiquitous heritage tomatoes made from excellent pastry (tomatoes are inescapable as every restaurant in the land is putting them on the menu even though this year’s batch does not actually seem to be all that tasty) was pleasing.
Then an excellent dish of cod with caviar and a lot else besides (one of my favourite course, especially the super sticky little slice of brioche that accompanied it); then a bowl of what I suppose might be described as a soup which included carrot which had had multiple culinary processes applied to it, plus little cubes of swede, tasty but I felt worn out half way through by the need to nibble on the chunks of vegetable so I drank the liquid and left some of the solids.
To be frank, this was all proving to be interesting and tasty, but a little wearing and not yet outstanding despite the effort that must have gone into preparing these dishes and the pride that Chef and his team were taking in the preparation and presentation of the dishes. Next, a “pork sandwich” of a ‘soldier’ of bread with pork and little pickles on it. The meat and pickles were fine but I left the bread which was not much fun to eat. But then came a truly triumphant dish of a ceviche of scallops, in generous amounts, with various preparations of apple; this was the most happily memorable course, clever and delicious.
And so to the main meat course, happy dreams of venison Wellington came to me in flashbacks, like PNUS (post non-traumatic unstressed syndrome), my eyes were searching it out like a Labrador sniffing out a tempting morsel in the bag of shopping which has just arrived. And Chef served us … three little slices of Wagyu beef. Tasty. An expensive, luxurious and real gourmets, I suppose, would say, an exceptional ingredient but well, let’s face it, now you see it, now you’ve eaten it. The rich dish, building on a series of what seemed like a series of increasingly rich dishes (the scallops were a respite) was further enriched with truffle. Praiseworthy indeed but was an old bloke’s stomach up to it?
Two desserts to go. A truly enjoyable lemon cake and then a twist on mint chocolates with a minty chocolate mousse under a crispy minty chocolate layer. Very good but as rich as Croesus (not that you’d eat Croesus obviously). The young people around me made short order of everything and were having a thrilling time with the various dishes but for those of us with older gastrointestinal tracts it was just all a bit too rich. Perhaps there’s room for a fine-dining restaurant for old people who still like a bit of gastronomic adventure and appreciate fine food but are just not built now to live up to Chefs’ expectations. Or maybe every restaurant should just have a sensible à la carte menu. Of course that does not apply to About Eight which is a concept and a story and now an experience rather than a meal.
That was not the end. There was one last dish which sent the richness of the meal into the stratosphere - Horlicks - invented by the bar manager, a killer combination of cream and Horlicks, destined to destroy any resistance an old person’s gastric viscera were putting up and by necessity, some had to be left in the bottom of the cup it was served in.
Sheridan is a great chef but has About Eight just become a little self-indulgent, from opening video to closing Horlicks? I think it probably has.
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