“Less of a rollercoaster, more of a gentle trip on the night train to a destination that you don’t particularly want to go to.”
Claridge’s is one of my favourite hotels, combining all the ingredients one looks for when staying in town – two bars – one for people watching, one for privacy, a fantastic spa, doormen who seem to know you (even when they don’t), a cocktail list that’s being constantly updated, and an old school entrance hall that I defy even the most reserved visitor not to take photos of. Yes, Claridge’s is synonymous with good taste and has it all, or rather nearly has it all, for some time now it’s been lacking the exciting restaurant that you’d expect from a hotel of such status. I have preciously visited Fera twice, both times were pleasant, but uninspiring – my current struggle to remember any of the dishes being the perfect example of the restaurant itself. I had a piece of meat, with some carbohydrate, and a “jus”, I’m sure. Or did I? These days in London, if you aren’t memorable, you aren’t anything, so I was excited see that the grey box that was Fera, had finally been replaced by the (well… er,) white box that is Davies and Brook. I had made the decision to spend my thirtieth birthday at D&B enjoying the tasting menu with wine pairings (why not!), and with Claridge’s and Eleven Madison Park being places I very much enjoy, my expectations were perhaps higher than they otherwise would have been.
We ate:
Scallop. An amuse bouche of Iced scallop with apple, and separately a hot Scallop broth. A tantalising way to start the meal. The cold scallop acidic and fresh, and the hot broth, creamy and mellow. This was, I hoped, a sign of creative and thoughtful dishes to come.
Caviar. Imperial Osietra Caviar with Butternut Squash, Smoked Shellfish, and Naan. This dish was delicious, comforting and surprising. Naan, butternut squash and caviar? Not the pairing one might predict, but one I very much enjoyed – sweet earthy squash with a little heap of salty fishy caviar, on a warm doughy naan. Delicious! This is a mellow, gracious introduction to the tasting menu – it’s more of a gentle “ooh” than an ecstatic “wow”.
Roasted Beetroot. Sheep’s Milk Yoghurt, Quinoa Falafel, and Cumin. It tasted exactly what it sounded like which is something Ottolenghi might make, minus the flavour. Falafels, beets and yoghurt, simply aren’t bold enough to stand alone, and there was unfortunately not enough else on the plate to support them. I wanted acidity, spice, sweetness, salt… something. It was tasty in a “I’m currently at a vegan restaurant and this isn’t as bad as I expected” kind of way. My view is, if you’re going to put falafel on a tasting menu, and what arrives on the plate really are just falafels, then they need to be outstanding. These were not, and my dining partner and I felt disappointed with this course. I maintain that nobody opts for a tasting menu hoping to find quinoa falafels on a bed of… er, yet more quinoa.
At this point, the room is silenced as everyone jealously observes a massive sizzling chicken being served to a larger table in the room. The smells and visual appeal were enough for me to have decided that if I return (which won’t be any time soon) A La Carte is perhaps the more satisfying option.
Black Cod. Roasted with Napa Cabbage, Miso, and Kohlrabi. Alas, the problem with putting black cod on a menu, is the same problem that arises when putting falafel on a menu. We have all had black cod – a crowd pleasing staple for any Japanese restaurant. And it’s absolutely delicious (I eat it regularly in restaurants and make it myself). This is a Humm restaurant, this is Mayfair, this is a tasting menu, so I suppose I was expecting something more delicious than what I regularly eat at ROKA. Put simply, it wasn’t. The texture suggested the fish had died a slow, tepid death in a water bath, and no amount of blow torching could resurrect it. The glaze was extremely salty (my dining partner and I thought the dish had perhaps been seasoned twice accidentally). We didn’t finish this course (some feat for me, as I am fundamentally greedy, and will eat almost anything if hungry – which I was).
Celeriac. Braised with Black Truffle. I am currently prickling with a very British embarrassment at having made so many complaints, but this was unfortunately even less satisfying than the dish before. Amazingly, for a dish containing truffle, there was no distinct flavour. The truffle was there – we could see it! But could neither taste or smell it (this dish had the strong whiff – or lack thereof, of old truffles). Covered in a slick of sauce with no distinct flavour and the texture of wallpaper paste, we picked at it, then left this course too. I am a devotee to anything truffle, and was disappointed that this dish simply didn’t land how it should have.
Dry-Aged Duck. Honey and Lavender Glazed with Cabbage and Sauce Civet. Finally – something tasty! I gratefully received my slice of blushing pink duck, with a full-bodied glossy sauce and cabbage. D&B had admittedly somehow managed to find the worlds skinniest duck (virtually no fat, unfortunately – perhaps reared by farmers with a peculiar penchant for starving their livestock) but it is perhaps telling that this, my favourite dish, is not a Davies and Brook creation, rather, one that has been lifted verbatim from the menu at Eleven Madison Park. It’s perfectly cooked and delicious, and comes with all manner of accompaniments, and makes me almost forget the woes of courses past. This is a solid dish, but the main takeaway was less amazement, and more relief, that this plate was not as bad as the others.
For Dessert – Milk and Honey. It’s a nice milk and honey thingy. It’s sweet, with some crunch, but yet again it just isn’t special at all. It was dare I say, childish – which is often something I greatly appreciate from a dessert, but in this case was simple and uninspiring. Pastry, an area of the kitchen that has such scope to tickle and amaze, was surprisingly (or perhaps unsurprisingly) safe. I’ve seen a similar idea executed with considerably more finesse elsewhere – it was tasty, but a sweetened mound of dairy was always going to be tasty.
This meal was unfortunately not what I hoped it would be. Less of a rollercoaster, more of a gentle trip on the night train to a destination that you don’t particularly want to go to. The clinical dining room (described as my dining partner as “like a hospital”) ended up being a prophecy for the meal I experienced. Some dishes were good, but they fell short of being great, and in the case of others, it was as if the kitchen had made a deliberate attempt to extract flavour from every plate. There is a beige colour palate enveloping most of these dishes, which indicates the lack of zing, the lack of drama. A few dishes (if you’ll excuse the pun) Hummed gently, but none sang. And I wanted them to – I am very much behind this hotel, that chef, this type of experience, but it wasn’t to the standard I expected, and I won’t be returning soon. But before I go, a quick shout out to the little complimentary bread rolls we were given at the beginning, which I had forgotten to mention earlier. This roll, a little ball of hope, was noteably delicious.
Sabrina Goodlife