468. Pretheatre Dinner At The Theatre Royal.

 

  The brooding darkness surrounding the local and national restaurant industry has been exemplified by a social media posting by Kray Tredwell, Chef Patron of 670 Grams in Digbeth, in which he pointed out that he may have to close his Michelin-listed restaurant in the coming months if the number of diners coming through his doors does not pick up.

  I myself have not visited there for a while. I find Digbeth unappealing and getting there, though in reality it is a perfectly simple thing to do, to be a prospect too unappealing to enable me to pluck up the energy to strike out and head in that direction. The problem is that chefs think these areas with their ‘cool and hip’ (two adjectives, I fear, almost certainly to be sneered at as uncool and unhip by those who feel they are cool and hip) shabby chic, hipster inhabitants will be home to a younger trendy population eager to eat a relatively expensive, multicourse meal. But it seems that they are not so eager to do so as I was told by a senior front-of-house figure at a restaurant in the Jewellery Quarter - when the restaurant first opened in the Jewellery Quarter, the young and the well heeled were expected to flock to the location - instead it turned out to be the older (and well-heeled) inhabitants of the Jewellery Quarter who made up a sizeable part of their clientele. Cool locations are fine if the cool locals are prepared to turn up and support a restaurant located there but it seems those particular individuals are not so keen to do so when they can stuff premium burgers and upmarket pizzas down their gullets.

  Kray may have a problem. 

  On a different note, I travelled to London sitting in the excellent Premium Standard carriage of Avanti West Coast heading for the Theatre Royal Drury Lane to see what turned out to be the theatre’s latest execrable production of a Shakespeare play, Much Ado About Nothing, which starred Tom Hiddlestone whom, it seemed, the audience made up largely by women in their thirties, had turned up to see regardless of whoever was the playwright. They giggled ecstatically whenever he declaimed a line (via a microphone) though if he had been reciting The Boy Stood on the Burning Deck I expect their reaction would have been no different. 

  On two occasions during the play Hiddlestone contrived to bare his torso which thrust his female audience (and probably some of the males as well) into excited enrapturement. It was a grim night for Shakespeare. It was predictable I suppose, the moment I bought the pink programme. Pink programmes always spell doom for a Shakespeare production. The RSC has sold a good number of pink programmes in recent years and the production has inevitably always proven to be disastrous and dire.

  Despite the appalling waste of money involved in buying a ticket to see Much Ado About Nothing as well as the additional cost (£10) of the pink programme, there was a silver lining to visiting the theatre. It seems, the theatre has recently introduced a pretheatre dinner service in the gorgeous chanderliered Grand Saloon on the upper floor of the theatre and this seemed like a very useful place to eat prior to sinking into one’s seat and enjoying - or otherwise - the play.

   Firstly, as I arrived early an Eliza Doolittle cocktail in the Cecil Beaton Bar, nicely atmospheric and mood setting and ultimately relaxing, and then an accompanied trip to the Grand Saloon to take in the the pleasant spaciousness of it, the remarkable art, the grand chandeliers and to be comfortably seated, though my chair was a little low for the table, to study the menu and order the food and wine.

  This was a simple three course meal with four appealing choices for each course. The dishes were unpretentious, good value - especially for London and served in such an attractive setting - and enjoyable. The menu was bistro-style and included for starters, parsnip soup which almost lured me, smoked salmon, a warm goats cheese salad and my choice, a tasty pork terrine served with a sweet but pleasingly acidic half pickled onion - though a whole one may have been kinder - and a couple of cornichons.

  The main course was about as straightforward as one might wish - tender ox cheek Bourguignon with a couple of perfectly cooked carrots, a tasty mash and watercress. Straightforward and enjoyable - the meat nicely unctious in its sauce and well seasoned. Who could ask for anything more? There were alternatives - I might easily have chosen an alluring fish pie or perhaps the roasted chicken breast with lardons, winter kale and mash. I had a glass of very drinkable Spanish Malbec to accompany it.

  My least favourite dish was the dessert which was a Black Forest coupe containing some rather unusually textured cubes of chocolate brownie which I didn’t particularly enjoy with some pleasing brandy cherries and cherry sorbet and whipped cream. I might have chosen sticky toffee pudding or crème brûlée or a cheese platter (Bath Blue, Baron Bigod, Tor pyramid with quince jelly) which, given my general lack of enthusiasm for desserts, might have been my best choice.

   Despite my lack of enthusiasm for the dessert, I had enjoyed my meal and I was pleased with the price. I descended to the front stalls in a contented frame of mind though this was soon dispelled by the appallingly crass production of a Shakespeare play which was then to be unraveled in front of me. Had it not been for the pleasing dinner, my evening would have been an utter washout. 

Rating:- 🌛🌛🌛.

449. Fallow, Haymarket London.

  I say nasty and spiteful things about London often. They are probably justified. But it is magnificent - particularly a couple of weeks before Christmas in the gathering dark of the late afternoon or early evening.  Everywhere bustling crowds of Christmas shoppers, the skies lit up by the lights at Leicester Square with its vast Christmas market, the old tarted up Dickensian streets heading off Piccadilly in the direction of Covent Garden, the tuk tuks gaily lit up and playing appealingly noisy Asian music on this evening drowned out by the clamour from the horns of the tractors driven by angry farmers, heading in convoy down Piccadilly. The magnificent glamour of the Theatre Royal Drury Lane where I was to see The Tempest with the American film star, Sigourney Weaver, in the role of Prospero. Yes, London is magnificent with more theatres and restaurants in this small area than the whole of Birmingham. Only London could support such a number with its vast local population and its brigades of tourists.

  And so for pre-theatre dinner. I had chosen to dine at Fallow in Haymarket after seeing its Chef Patrons featured on the BBC’s Saturday Kitchen. They spoke of the restaurant’s iconic mushroom parfait, the reputation of which rested on the inclusion of shitake mushrooms, and which every table chose as one its dishes, or so they said.

    Naturally therefore I chose the mushroom parfait as my starter; why swim against the current? It was very good, smooth, full flavoured, the occasional hint of an acceptable bitterness. It was served with home grown lionsmane mushroom and smoked shitake which was more exciting on paper than in the eating but I liked the dish because its richness was pleasing and well tempered and not overwhelming. A well judged dish.

  I was seated at the counter with a ringside view of the young chefs, calm, professional and artistic, as they shucked oysters, flamed some dishes dramatically with the scorching heat felt where I sat, plated up and generally presented a piece of theatre better, it turned out, than the theatre I would later see at the Theatre Royal Drury Lane.

 And the food was theatre too. Or at least, the chosen main course of the diner sitting next to me was certainly theatre and for some it May have been a horror drama - smoked cod’s head served with the house sriracha sauce and leek oil. The size of it was immense and for the first time I appreciated just what the teeth of this fine beast look like as it gawped in my direction - irregular little needles which up until then I might only have expected to find in the mouth of a piranha. And there was so much meat on it; my fellow diner was hard pushed to clear it all.

  I was relieved to have chosen the accurately cooked and generously portioned stone bass with mild but tasty Goan curry, the soothing but tangy lime pickle yoghurt and mini, clever samphire pakoras which is a pleasing way to serve the otherwise done-to-death sea herb.

   The restaurant was buzzing, the atmosphere was exciting, the air was filled with noise and the aromas of cooking and the service was attentive and well-judged. And yet I felt comfortable and peaceful, just the mood for enjoying fine but rustic food.

  The Chelsea tart could not be resisted as dessert, the experience of creamy caramel and good pastry served with a mincemeat icecream bringing with it a happy self-indulgence which if this present government has its way, may be something denied to us in the future. 

  And so somewhat gastronomically euphoric, I disappeared into the Christmas crowds and headed for the Theatre Royal Drury Lane to see one of the worst productions of a Shakespeare play - a mangled The Tempest - I can remember having inflicted on me. Still the theatre is so beautiful that a visit was worthwhile if one ignores the appalling king’s ransom one has to pay for a decent seat at a London theatre in the present times.

   Dan Merriman, born in Worcestershire but now working in the north-west, won the final of the BBC’s Masterchef The Professionals. He came over as a lovely man and a chef of great skill, application, modesty, inventiveness and meticulousness. There was not a dry eye in the house as he was awarded the trophy.

  Aktar Islam’s two Michelin-starred Opheem was placed sixth in Harnden’s list of the top 100 restaurants in the United Kingdom. Also included in the list was Grace and Savour at number 30, Fraiche at Oswestry at number 61, Upstairs by Tom Shepherd at number 68 and The Wilderness at number 90. The West Midlands remains underrepresented but it’s fine restaurants at least represent it we’ll.

  Dan Lee is to give up his residency at the Hockley Social Club. I hope we see him soon in a proper restaurant of his own,

362. Booking Office 1869 Renaissance Hotel St Pancras.

 

  Lucy the Labrador and I were in London to enable me to go to see Kenneth Branagh’s King Lear at the Wyndham Theatre. When in the capital I like to stay close to Euston Station so that I do not have to try to transport Lucy around the city. This time we were staying at the really rather excellent Renaissance Hotel at St Pancras Station and, having arrived there, it seemed like a good idea to have the set lunch on offer in the hotel bar/dining area, Booking Office 1869 - £30 for two courses or £40 for three. Not bad for London.

 Dining in the restaurant is spectacular with its ceiling so high above the diner it might as well be in the stratosphere and the moody lighting and smartly clad waiters efficiently and quietly going about their work. Oh! and it has palm trees. It’s probably the closest thing to dining in a cathedral (save, I suppose, English cathedrals do not usually have palm trees). Quite-breathtaking and with the added bonus that dogs can accompany their owners while they dine with kind front-of-house staff bringing them bowls of water.

  One really must dine here if only to experience the combined thrill of sitting at a table there and relaxing in the luxury of it all. The food is more of an after thought but much too good value not to sit back and enjoy. I chose the ‘Classic set lunch’ though I wouldn’t really describe the choice of cheeseburger and pumpkin and sage tortellini as ‘classic’ English lunchtime fare. That said, I enjoyed the three dishes served to me but sitting with the dog in this very grand restaurant certainly was the sugar that helped the medicine go down.

  I chose cashew hummus with harissa and seeded crackers. The hummus was subtly flavoured and the crackers were tasty and crispy and the accompanying pickled carrots livened up the dish. No complaints. My cheeseburger, which surely could not have caused offence to any of the many Americans staying at the hotel - and doubtless they were greater aficionados on the subject of burgers than I will ever be - as my burger was cooked precisely as requested and adorned with reasonably crispy bacon, cheese, pickled cucumber, something called St Pancras sauce though I wasn’t really aware of the presence of that particular entity at the time and accompanied by some very well cooked chips. If I must have a burger for lunch then this was an enjoyable burger and consumed in a very simpatico setting.

  Of the two choices of dessert I opted for coconut and mango mousse with ‘exotic sorbet’ which was pleasant enough though it was never going to set the world of pastry cooking on fire. 

  I enjoyed the meal and it delivered what it promised to do. But far more memorable was the setting for the meal. Highly recommended as an experience.

Rating:- 🌛🌛🌛🌛

  Afterwards, off to the Wyndham Theatre for another notable experience to see Kenneth Branagh in his trimmed down version of King Lear, set in the New Stone Age, characterised by an initially bizarre declamation - about ten words per minute - by Branagh in an unconvincing attempt to present himself as a very old man. Fortunately things picked up and in the end the visit to the theatre was rather like lunch at The Booking Office - an experience I wouldn’t have wanted to miss.

    Lucy and I said farewell for the present to the Renaissance Hotel the following morning. It’s a very pleasing place to stay. In the corridor along which our bedroom was located were a number appealing works of art illustrating servants in the hotel dressed probably as they would have been in Victorian or Edwardian times including one or two involved in preparation of food at the hotel.