Review: The Coach House, Exmoor

Sweetbread ravioli

Sweetbread ravioli

Or to give it its proper title: “The Coach House by Michael Caines“. In the interest of full disclosure, this kind of thing really gets on my wick so I was likely to be skeptical going into this meal! Is it really necessary to suck people in with a name? All I can find on the website about Michael’s involvement is this: “Everything is created from scratch by our talented kitchen team, who were hand-picked by Michelin starred chef Michael Caines.” Pfff!

Och, I know, it’s just business. And the chic folk adorning the tables tonight were no doubt drawn down to Exmoor by the name. In a difficult economy and a crowded market it’s every country house hotel for themselves and thinking caps on for the marketing and PR agencies.

John Dory

John Dory

We were drawn down to Exmoor for a weekend of hiking, and bloody lovely it was too, but I can’t leave home without looking for an excuse to try a new restaurant, so here we are and my expectations are firmly in check. When I asked our waiter what the selection of local cheeses were, he replied “it’s a goat cheese, a brie, a blue one and a cheddar”. That’s the level we’re pitching at. So I certainly wasn’t after the tasting menu.

There’s an amuse of a decent gazpacho and then we’re onto starters. Mine is a ravioli of sweetbread with a sweet and rich sherry sauce, nice bit of braised lettuce on the side. Whaddya know? Really very, very good. Dish of the evening. Maureen’s lobster dish, strewn in bits over the plate, is just okay. Turns out mango and lobster aren’t the most brilliant of bedfellows and the “curried” lobster mayonnaise isn’t really.

Beef fillet

Beef fillet

You can’t go wrong with a nice bit of local beef fillet, and mine was perfectly good. Crispy little shallot rings, roast silverskins, bits of mushroom that I’m not certain deserve the “wild mushroom” label they wore on the menu, and some grainy watercress puree. All good, if absolutely 100% predictable. Special bonus marks for an accompaniment of ox heart tartare! This was ace. Maureen’s John Dory was a decent bit of fish, though the black garlic sauce was heavy on the soy and as a whole the plate was unbalanced.

Having determined that the cheese option is probably crap, I pick a banana parfait. I’m not sure why. But it certainly is a banana parfait covered in bits of candied peanut with a lime sorbet. The parfait is already melting when it reaches me, which isn’t so great. Maureen’s passionfruit souffle is much better. Nice souffle, good flavour.

So we had a decent enough meal in the end. But at £50 for three courses I can’t help thinking of all the wonderful dining pubs around Devon where you can outdo these three courses for fifteen quid less. “The Coach House by Michael Caines, is a culinary experience that will change the way you think about restaurant dining” …yeeeeeeeah, no.

Exmoor

Exmoor

Review: Jamavar, London

Jamavar

Jamavar

Jamavar has recently had a change of chef at the top. I hadn’t realised, but it’s actually the first UK outpost of a small group of exclusive Indian hotels. The interior is very clubby, all mirrors and dark wood and little brass lamps. Comfy too. Service was decent and friendly.

We went all-in for the tasting menu, and two of us headed for the vegetarian version of it while two went meat n’ fish. I’ve gotta say, we were all underwhelmed. So… why?

Well, all four of us are serious afficienadoes of modern Indian cuisine as the best UK restaurants have been interpreting it. The Chilli Pickle down in Brighton, the Painted Heron in

Aloo Tikki

Aloo Tikki

Chelsea, the Cinnamon Club, Lasan in Birmingham. And all the street food places offering up big spices and lively chat bombs on the cheap. So while this was a very pleasant Indian meal stretched out over seven courses, there was absolutely nothing that really stood out.

The main courses in particular left us very meh. Butter chicken was… a good butter chicken. The prawn moilee was way too nervous, with none of the depth and punch a great moilee can have. The vegetarian mains, starring morel mushrooms and baby aubergines respectively, were no less meh. The tomatoey sauce with the aubergine was joylessly free of any clear spice, the morels were lost and wasted in a creamy sauce, bizarrely stuffed with peas.

Paneer

Paneer

Some of the earlier dishes were better. I enjoyed a really beautiful disk of paneer tikka, the cheese softer and silkier than I’m used to, surely homemade. There was a very good chicken tikka across the table, soft and succulent with sweet green flavours. Soft shell crab to start was crisp and oceanic, but the lobster idli wasn’t a great use of shellfish and the idli themselves were an uninteresting and starchy addition – it felt like they were there to lend a name to the dish rather than add anything useful to it.

Nice rasmalai to finish, sticky and soft and fragrant. I shouldn’t be over-critical. This was solid, classic Indian cooking, with dishes from across the country prepared with care, although perhaps a little too cautious in their spices. But I can’t call the £75 tasting menu good value on those grounds, not by a long chalk. I can’t see any reason to visit Jamavar when you can enjoy better for half as much. I wonder if they’ll keep the Michelin star with this chef?

Curry, innit?

Curry, innit?

Review: Moksh, Cardiff

Spherification

Spherification

If you are an Indian restaurant with pretensions of fine dining, please learn this lesson first: portion sizes should be smaller on tasting menus. When a full sized curry with a complete portion of rice and naan rocks up after I’ve already eaten 3 amuse bouches and 4 starters, I just know I’m going to be spending the rest of the day in an uncomfortable, bloated, semi-insensible heap.

Moksh has been down in the middle of Cardiff’s smart dockland area for a few years now, and the dining room is looking very tired. Though I’m told they’re in the process of moving so it’ll be interesting to see the upgrade. Having come all this way, we went for the tasting menu. Ordered a couple of cocktails while we waited – they were inelegant and over-sweet.

Street(lamp) food

Street(lamp) food

First amuse was a big ruby red spherification filled with a gentle cranberry and star anise yogurt. It was a bit surreal to have the chef explain to us that “we use chemicals here, to enhance the presentation and flavour”. Please, for your own sake, don’t say chemicals! We know how molecular gastronomy works, we’re cool. But I don’t think most diners are very comfortable associating the word “chemicals” with food. : )

The stand-out amuse bouche was a lentil soup. It had a fantastic clean, hot, green spiced flavour. But this was a whole bowl of soup. Not an amuse bouche. There was also one knock-out starter: a prawn with lemon moilee, a south Indian seafood sauce with a slick, rich, tangy flavour that I could have eaten a bucket of. My main course was probably the best laal maas I’ve had, with an earthy hot sauce of a rich burgundy colour over chunks of slow-cooked lamb and good rice. Maureen’s crispy battered tilapia with a tangy Goan curry was also excellent.

Laal maas - great

Laal maas – great

But most of the other amuse bouches and starters were just hey-ho. Huge chunk of dry tandoori chicken breast smothered in a flavoursome green yogurt paste. Typical street food dish of vada and chickpeas that could have been had at the dozen or so Indian street food places in Cardiff. Poppadoms with an admittedly bright mint dip. Puddings – which we tried really hard to shove into some remaining gaps – were not impressive. Macaroon with sweet hummus was pleasant, date meringue just sticky, pistachio mousse way too subtle to be worth eating, curry ice cream was at least flavourful although the flavour chosen was staunchly yellow curry powder.

Don’t get me started on the gimmicks. Chef Gomes has got hold of the idea that innovative fine dining = gimmicks. The street food dish had a teeny-tiny street lamp attached. Clove-scented dry ice appeared twice. The tandoori came in a glass jar filled with eye-watering hickory smoke. The lamb chop came with candy floss. “Why candy floss?” “It’s gastronomic.” : )

There were three excellent dishes at Moksh; the lentil soup, the moilee and the main curries. I think if you treat Moksh as a top-notch curry house and order any two dishes that don’t sound very experimental, you could well be onto a real winner; there’s a deft touch here with authentic Indian cooking. But the attempt to elevate into tasting menu territory isn’t working at all, it’s all gimmick and no thought. I waddled out with very mixed feelings.

Dessert in the smoke

Dessert in the smoke

Review: Ynyshir, The Pass Bench, Machynllyth

Nettles

Nettles

I raved about Ynyshir last March after our first visit. And I kept raving about it, in spite of all the lovely meals I’ve had since, so much so that Maureen became heartily sick of me and booked a table there for my birthday this year to shut me up.

This is no minor undertaking, for Ynyshir is truly in the back of beyond, the west coast of Wales, 4.5 hours drive from London. And while the west coast of Wales is undoubtably beautiful, it’s not a tourist draw like the Isle of Skye or the Cornish peninsula. So Ynyshir absolutely has to be a destination restaurant. People have to drag themselves across the Cambrian mountains for no other reason than to want to sample Gareth Ward’s cooking. Take it from me, that’s ample reason!

Char sui perfection

Char sui perfection

There’s no doubt chef Ward is after a 2nd Michelin star; there are so many 1 Star destinations in popular and convenient parts of the UK, it’s absolutely gonna take a 2nd star to persuade people to come this far! Especially mid-week. Of course you, the reader of this most select blog, are already in on the secret and must surely have started planning your trip?

I’ll tell you what I like about Ynyshir. The flavours are unabashed and powerful, but not harsh. The plates are always beautiful, but uncluttered and unfussy. Every mouthful of meat roars with careful provenance and very, very careful storage and treatment. There is a passionate belief in the value of what you can find in the fields, hedges, pastures and shores of the UK. And there is innovation and experiment evident in all of it. I have never, ever had a better prawn. Or a better piece of char sui. Or a better dessert made entirely of nettles. Or… you get the idea!

Our next dish being prepped

Our next dish being prepped

So I might as well spend the rest of the blog telling you about the Pass Bench experience, which is what every raving foodie should be trying and book. This is a hearty wooden bench for two, draped with woolly black sheepskins, right in the middle of the kitchen. Off to your left chef Ward is looking after the flame-kissing grill close enough that he could lean over and pass you a spoon if you were missing one. Certainly close enough for a chat. You get to see everything, and hear every single instruction and call. It’s mildly bizarre to have one of the chefs collect your empty plates and then, having done nothing more than turn around, call out “Pass bench cleared!” and take them to the hatch into the scullery.

Bloody amazing prawn

Bloody amazing prawn

Gareth’s team are a lovely bunch. The chefs do a lot of front of house. This is on-trend, of course; we’ve had dishes brought to us by chefs at Noma and elsewhere. But apparently it happened very naturally at Ynyshir, as they were struggling to find anyone who wanted to do silver-service front of house and live in a quiet corner of west Wales!

You’re in for five very entertaining hours of the very best cooking in the UK, for a princely £150 a head (£130 in the main restaurant). It is good value. No, it really is. Five hours. Nineteen courses. Right in the kitchen. The bedrooms are also very lovely. Snowdonia is on your doorstep. We walked up Cader Idris the next day. 18 months after my first visit, I’m still waiting for another dining experience that comes close. Given that Ynyshir was even better this time around, the bar just gets higher.

Up Cader Idris

Up Cader Idris

Review: Root, Bristol

View from Root

View from Root

We’re seriously contemplating getting a flat overlooking the floating harbour in Bristol. Just nosing around the Cargo complex of re-skinned shipping containers it feels like we could have a great bite to eat at a different place every night for two weeks and still not run out of options. Today we had lunch at Root, Josh Eggleton’s newest place, and the view from the terrace doesn’t get much better.

It’s British small plate cooking, a real mixture but definitely nothing more than a nod towards the Mediterranean. There’s a short drink list, but the blazing July day absolutely demanded an Aperol Spritz. We picked a half-dozen dishes and they came pretty promptly…

Leek rarebit

Leek rarebit

Beetroot with hazelnut was good, a generous helping with a light pickling and some fruity blackberry notes. Couldn’t really work out where the promised “seaweed” element was, and at heart this really wanted to be a side dish rather than a main event.

The leek and rarebit was a massively tasty success. Softly sweet leeks, smothered in a nicely yeasty rarebit made with strong cheddar, topped with wafer-fine pastry and a scatter of dukkah.

Onglet tartare

Onglet tartare


Neat single piece of fried chicken in a perfect crisp/light batter. The gooseberry chutney worked well, sweet and sharp. Another dish I enjoyed was a smokey aubergine goo topped with char-grilled aubergine and bits of feta and dates. Finally, a very good bit of onglet tartare with a mountain of salty game chips on top. The tartare was well-mixed, unctuous, with plenty enough capers to balance the flavour.

This was a good lunch in pleasant surroundings. At around £21 for 3 plates it feels like fair value. I’d definitely make Root a common haunt if I lived down on Bristol’s floating harbour, although to be fair I’d probably try the other dozen options first, just in case there’s something even better…

Beetroot@Root

Beetroot@Root