319. 670 Grams.

 

  When my lunch companion and I arrived at Kray Tredwell’s 670 Grams we were a little surprised to find that the previously announced extension had not yet occurred and to find our chef carrying out the role of Maître D’Hotel. This was mid-week lunch and it was ridiculously quiet - just two other lunchers in this fabulously exciting dining establishment. What are Birmingham diners doing? There was a ten course lunch on offer for a remarkable £60 - ten courses of originality, excitement, intrigue, inventiveness and sheer pleasure. True I had, to my regret, not visited 670 Grams for a while - there are so many excellent local first rank restaurants to dine in that you may want to support but one just can not be everywhere all the time but it took a very short time to realise that Tredwell’s place is just too good not to be on my regular visiting list. 

  To be honest, Chef seemed remarkably relaxed in his front of house role and we enjoyed talking to him as the meal progressed. We were sat comfortably in the upstairs part of the restaurant and were feeling very happy - 670 Grams is unique and you just have to sit back and enjoy it as it engulfs you. Long may it continue to engulf the good burgers of Birmingham.

 A happy start. The charred pineapple - delectable - and the shockingly spicy consommé. And we’re off. Our throats alight but the sensation soon diverted by the hilariously ironic chunk of Kray’s fried chicken served in a silly little pot graced with Chef’s portrait, bearded like the Colonel, and the inscription Kray FC. Cheeky. Profoundly enjoyable. Ironic. Having said that, perhaps the coating could have been a little crispier but one has to whinge a little in this modern age, doesn’t one? 

  Then a dish which made charred lettuce not only edible but divine and afterwards a tasty prawn dish with a remarkable sauce bursting with the flavour of prawn heads. 

  This was a real tasting menu. Kray Tredwell really knows how to deliver a multicourse series of excruciatingly tasty dips into this flavour or that flavour without overwhelming the diner with excessively sized dishes. He deserves more and more and more exposure and support.

Onwards to Tredwell’s hopelessly moreish, powerfully flavoured prawn bread and then a darling slice of perfectly cooked pork loin not at all insulted by the accompanying masala sauce and more grilled leaf, again confirming that in the hands of a genius, leaves can be cool. Slightly less successful was the chicken in a shisho leaf wrap but at least the leaf kept us close to the cutting edge - gastronomic orientalism continues. More successful was the accompanying Thai salad.

Transition arrives. Tredwell again surpasses himself in inventiveness. There is fine crispy pastry which combines savoury and sweet perfectly and eventually we end up with the prettiest little mignardise, all glowing yellow and orange and delicious.

  So many delights served in just the right sized portions. I hope Tredwell’s enterprise flourishes for all our  sakes.

Rating:- 🌞🌞.

318. Purnell’s Bistro Coventry.

  Purnell’s Bistro seems to have been long in the making. It must be a couple of years ago that an announcement was made that Glynn Purnell was to open a restaurant in Coventry’s historic Charterhouse, situated rather awkwardly not that far from the city centre but approachable along busy roads and virtually impossible by foot. Still, a lovely setting especially on a bright, sunny spring afternoon.

  Purnell is almost everywhere - Cornwall Street, Edmund Street, Henley in Arden and now Coventry - almost a chain but since each of his four restaurants are different, then not a chain at all. The Coventry branch of the Purnell culinary empire, Purnell’s Bistro, has opened in the past couple of weeks or so but has rapidly settled in - full of customers, bustling, good service and really excellent food. It’s a cross between The Mount, the old Purnell’s Bistro aka The Asquith in Newhall Street and Purnell’s Plates - mostly small plates, and splashes of Iberia and the Mediterranean.

  Three dishes arrived together - crispy, delicious, golden cheese and leek croquettes, spicy chorizo with an honey and cider sauce and, my favourite, finally chopped grilled baby leeks with broccoli in a comforting but tongue-tingling romesco sauce. Finally had the special of very nicely priced 4oz rump steak, cooked exactly to my taste, seasoned perfectly and complemented by a very tasty chimichurri and very worthy of praise. This was a very successful meal. At times I found myself wolfing it down, so pleasurable was it. 

  I managed dessert which was rather limited in choice - just two dishes on offer, similar to Purnell’s Plates (not enough choice to be honest) - and I was pleased with the chocolate and hazelnut tart which I had chosen - the pastry was excellent though the whole was eventually rather dry and it would have benefitted from being served with some ice cream or sorbet

  By the look of things, Glynn Purnell has set up a really enticing dining establishment in Coventry. The master seems to have struck again. But he needs to improve the restaurant’s approach to desserts.

Rating:- 🌛🌛🌛🌛.

 

317. Lunar, Stoke on Trent.

 

  Special events are certainly a good way, or so it seems to me, to draw in diners in these troubled times. Niall Keating had come up with a very special event in his restaurant, Lunar, sited at the World of Wedgwood in the distant outskirts of Stoke on Trent (see Blog 214). This was to be a six course dinner, with extras, in which caviar was found a place on each and every dish. I had never paid so much for a meal before and so it was a bold move both by myself and by chef and by the eleven other diners who congregated at the table on this night of the full moon.

  On my previous visit to Lunar at the beginning of 2022, I was unable to see much outside the taxi window which carried me to World of Wedgwood but this time, it now being late spring, I was able to obtain a much clearer impression of the pleasant Stoke suburbs and the vast area that makes up the museum site.

  And so, into the dining room, elegantly dressed (the room not me, though I do my best when I need to) and politely and professionally greeted. A glass of champagne having been rendered up onto me, I was taken to admire a glorious stack of a variety of caviars, all of which we were to be served, and given a generous helping of the stuff to get me going.

  The Lunar diners took their places and the meal commenced. After some tasty, nicely textured sourdough, on came the first treat and for me, not my favourite. This was accurately poached hens egg with piece# of asparagus, mild wild garlic, and spring peas, served to conjure up the very essence of spring. This was excellent but I am not a lover of dishes incorporating poached egg and I like my peas cooked a little more and my asparagus whole. Still, you can’t please all the people all the time. The accompanying smoked caviar however was pleasant and fitted the dish nicely.

    Then, a triumphant and gorgeous dish found its way to the table in the hands of the excellent waiting staff, so smart and professional. This dish of saffron linguine in a lustrous, silky, enriching sauce topped with a generous portion of osciestra will almost certainly be on my list of ten most delightful dishes of the year. I could be to this dish what Cleopatra was to ass’ milk.

  Then high drama, exciting theatre, far better than the recent production of Julius Caesar at Stratford, that’s for sure. In came the magnificent salt-baked turbot and two chefs, including Niall Keating cut their way through the coating. Then, after the steamy drama, the fish was returned to the kitchen and cut into generously sized portions and served anointed with Imperial Beluga caviar, a champagne sabayon of a noble nature and an admirably restrained sprig of purple sprouting broccoli. Such wickedness.

  The next lordly dish of fine beef was not to be outdone easily. It sat on a dead of delightful Rosita and bathed in a delicious beef sauce and was crowned heavily by Royal Beluga caviar. 

  Then,  just one dish sans caviar, the intermediate dish - highly successful ‘white chocolate tofu’, a lesson that in the hands of a fine kitchen an occasionally acceptable, in this case highly enjoyable, tofu dish can be served up, no matter how improbable  may seem.

  Even more improbable was the dessert - Mr Whippy-style ice cream, soothingly yuzu-favoured, topped by Imperial oscietra. Fabulous. It might be impossible to eat soft ice cream ever again unless it is mingled with generous amounts of caviar.

  

  The evening ended. The full moon shone bright. The new Lunar Society had met again in the town of one of the members of the original society of Georgian times. Lavish, Near-outrageous. Quite splendid. I already have my reservation made for the next full moon in Stoke.

  But perhaps I might have a little rest from caviar for a short while at least.

316. Richard Turner And Le Petit Bois Collaboration.

 

  “Chef, does this mean you will be coming back to serving the public?”, not a smile but a fleetingly temporary lightening of facial expression and, “Ask me that at midnight”. Of course, I wasn’t round late when service ended at Le Petit Bois to ask former Michelin star holder Richard Turner, now bearded and shaven headed, whether midnight had provided him with the answer to the question I had raised but I rather hoped that the answer that had come to him was, “Yes”. Time dulls memory and one forgets just how special are some chefs but the food he cooked that evening during his collaboration with Ben Taylor, Chef Patron of Moseley’s Le Petit Bois, brought happy memories flooding back and showed just why Turner had achieved such recognition during his time as Chef Patron of Turner’s in Harborne.

  

  This collaborative event brought, I think it’s fair to see, a not entirely satisfactory combination of deeply rustic Gallic dishes alternating with fine modern British, very much of the moment. This is not to say that the dishes were not enjoyable - indeed, some were very fine and delicious with admirable complexity of flavours. But the meal did jolt a little too much from one style to another. 

  As is often the case, the appetisers were lovely - a wonderfully cheesy ‘gouger’ served in a bowl hiding under a lid on which sat the simplest but most perfectly cooked Jersey Royal topped with crème fraiche and caviar. Then, served by Turner, was a red mullet soup with bottarga (salted, cured grey mullet roe pouch) alongside a tapenade chou - a highly delicious dish. From modern British sophistication to a more robust French peasant’s fare x a chou farci, stuffed cabbage - this was tasty but the cabbage was not adequately tender for me.

  A fine piece of meaty ‘swordfish au poivre’ was next served - again from the rustic side of the menu - the little bursts of pepper were exhilarating and the accompanying ratatouille complemented it all. Richard Turner weighed in with the meat course - finely cooked and tasty hogget with fresh wild garlic (which, he joked, he had been out picking in Cannon Hill Park at 6.30 that morning, though perhaps he was not joking), morels (ideally complementing the hogget), asparagus and Jersey Royal purée (which may have been the only error - both I and the couple at the next table felt that the small potatoes would have been more enjoyable if served whole (perhaps it was because we had already had the vegetable served that way as appetiser and no repeat was wished for or perhaps Turner felt he needed to be cheffy). Regardless, a near immaculate dish.

   Turner’s final contribution was actually the absolute highlight - the summary of ‘sheep’s yogurt, rhubarb, blood orange’ (frozen and scattered overall) hardly did justice to one of the most excitingly delicious desserts I have eaten for a while. And then he accompanied it with a delightful little beignet and choirs of angels sang out.

  Ben Taylor’s dessert was brimming with the flavour of bananas - there was a chocolate cake charged with banana and a fine hazelnut ice cream on a bed of crushed hazelnuts alongside a nicely caramelised chunk of banana. The helping was too generously sized for me and I hate wasting good food, being brought up as a child of those who experienced the vicious rationing of Attlee’s Age of Austerity, but there you have it, you can only eat what your gastric organ will allow you to eat. I took the charming mignardises, including a charming little Madeleine freshly cooked, home with me and they gave me much pleasure.

  So is Richard Turner planning to return to full-time ‘active service’? Given what he produced at Le Petit Bois, the West Midlands diner can only hope so.