Chilling out over lunch at Dinner

A friend Chris whom I met on a recent course in Scotland is in London for a couple of days to rehearse for an upcoming concert. As a food lover himself, he had asked me for recommendations on nice places for lunch at reasonable prices. We met up today, and having found out that he was a fan of Heston Blumenthal I knew exactly where to take him. I got us a last-minute table for a late lunch at Dinner, Blumenthal's London outpost, which I'd visited last year and liked very much. The restaurant has gone from strength to strength since then, rising two places to No. 7 on the most recent St. Pellegrino's list of World's Best Restaurants.

We were not looking to splurge today, so we went for the set lunch. Oddly enough, this is the only fine restaurant I've visited which doesn't offer a tasting menu, and ordering off the more elaborate à la carte menu (which I did on my first visit) would have cost us a lot more for the same number of courses. Anyway, the set lunch menu with a choice of two dishes for each course looked really good too!

Blumenthal's love for reworking historic British recipes, realised only to a certain extent at The Fat Duck in Bray (which I'd visited earlier this month), is given full attention here. Compared to the more formal flagship, there are very little, if at all, table theatrics in this decidedly casual and no-frills restaurant, despite its extremely upmarket Central London location. Head chef and Blumenthal protégé Ashley Palmer-Watts focuses purely on solid historical recreations with big flavours, achieved through modern cooking techniques with a Hestonian twist.

First up, white and brown sourdough bread with organic salted butter. Not mind-blowing in any sense, but still solid and of very high quality (especially the butter). No amuse-bouches otherwise, but I'd known that already from my first visit.

Starter 1 (mine): salamugundy (c. 1720) - smoked heritage tomatoes, radishes, celery fluid gel, buckler sorrel and lovage emulsion.

A tomato salad of the highest order, these heritage varieties were incredibly juicy and sweet, and the smoking gave them a further richness and depth of flavour that one doesn't normally expect from this fruit. The other vegetables and herbs on the plate kept this dish clean and light throughout, from the tart sorrel leaves, to the fresh and crunchy radishes, and the aromatic emulsion and gel. The fluid gel was a characteristic Heston touch, with a texture between jelly and thick jus; the use of gelatin instead of starch-based thickeners resulted in a really pure and crisp flavour. This was indeed a pleasant and wholesome start to the meal.

Starter 2 (Chris'): dressed snails (c. 1884) - with parsley fluid gel, braised fennel, pickled beetroot, carrot and artichoke, salty fingers (a coastal plant) and red wine jus.

Compared to my starter, this was a heavier dish full of robust flavours and aromas. The snails were tender and moist, but what made this dish really special were its accompaniments. The braised fennel had a rich anise-like taste and fragrance, enhanced by the full-bodied red wine jus and balanced by the fresh clean taste of the parsley gel and the tartness of the pickled vegetables. The garnish of salty fingers was a unique touch, with their unusually crunchy and succulent leaves, and a distinctive saltiness that seemed to carry all the freshness of a sea breeze. Who needs ordinary salt to taste when you can have this?

Main course 1 (mine): roast ray wing and admiral's sauce (c. 1826) - sea aster, shallots, fresh peas and pea purée, sauce of brown butter, sherry vinegar, capers and anchovies.

The ray was tender, succulent, and had just the right charred edge from roasting to complement its naturally delicate taste. The predominantly pea accompaniments were pleasantly sweet, and the fresh peas were particularly lovely with their firm crunchiness (much better than frozen peas in texture I must say!). As for the other components, shredded shallots (under the fish) imparted a really great aroma and flavour with a tinge of sweetness, while the sea aster was remarkably crisp and moreish. Lastly, the admiral's sauce, incredibly tasty but bordering on sharpness due to the copious use of capers, both balanced the general sweetness of this dish and gave it a greater depth and intensity.

Main course 2 (Chris'): slow cooked pork belly (c. 1710) - with crackling, smoked hispi cabbage, apple gel and mead jus.

Who could say no to a roast dish as comforting and flawless as this? A little slice of heaven came in the form of a chunk of pork belly, which despite its thickness remained melt-in-the-mouth throughout. It had a wonderfully intense flavour due to the presence of a good amount of fat - so certainly not for the health-conscious! - however most of the fat had melted away during the process of slow cooking so that the meat felt surprisingly lean whilst still retaining its full concentrated flavour. Chunks of perfectly crisp and non-greasy crackling were the icing on this immaculate cut of pork. On the side, a portion of hispi cabbage complemented the rich taste and succulence of the pork with a remarkably deep smoky taste and juicy crunch, while the classic pairing of apple(sauce) took the form of a light gel with just the right balance of sweetness and acidity. A thick and full-bodied mead jus aptly completed this picture of unashamed indulgence.

Dessert 1 (mine): Shrewsbury gooseberry tansy tart (c. 1800) - gooseberry jam, rose custard and caraway biscuit base.

Somewhat reminiscent of a crème brûlée with its burnt sugar top, the presentation was extremely understated for a restaurant at this level; but as they say, the proof of the pudding is in the eating, and on that front this dessert hit the spot completely. This was certainly no ordinary custard pie; each bite released the delicate sweet-smelling scent of roses, balanced beautifully by a small amount of tart gooseberry jam. The palate was also kept fresh by the biscuit layer with warmly aromatic caraway seeds in the mix. Simple and delightful.

Dessert 2 (Chris'): millionaire tart (c. 1730) - olive oil biscuit, salted butter caramel, dark chocolate ganache, with vanilla ice cream on crystallised chocolate bits.

Oh, the sheer sinfulness of this one! Rich layers of caramel and chocolate on a delicate olive oil biscuit base - how could anyone go wrong with that? This seemingly meagre slice packed a really heady punch of sweet, salty and cocoa flavours, with a lovely tinge of freshness from olive oil in the biscuit base. The vanilla ice cream with real crushed vanilla pods was beautifully smooth and creamy, but somewhat paled in comparison to the luxurious tart. The crystallised chocolate, similar in appearance to Cocoa Pops, provided a delightful firm crunch with each mouthful amidst the predominantly soft textures, though it was a tad too sugary for my taste. In any case, this dessert was utterly enjoyable - leave your diets at home, resistance would be futile!

Having finished our set lunch proper, our waiter casually mentioned that he would make us each one of those nitro-ice creams we'd seen being served to every table as far as we could remember. Of course we said yes and assumed that this was part of the petit fours that are customarily offered in fine restaurants to diners at the end of their meal. (I didn't get it during my first visit, and simply assumed that they had forgotten; I wasn't going to appear cheapskate by kicking up a fuss over an ice cream.)

Very theatrical, with liquid vanilla ice
cream mix quick frozen by liquid
nitrogen into a smooth solid form.

Choice of 4 toppings in the bowls: sugar coated fennel
seeds, freeze-dried raspberries, chocolate & hazelnut
bits, apple popping candy.

My choice of freeze-dried raspberries.

Imagine our shock then when we saw a charge of £8.50 per ice cream on the bill! This had to be rectified even if we risked coming across as a bunch of cheapskates. There was no good reason for this extra charge as our waiter hadn't made it clear that it wasn't on the house - and I'd like to think that I should be very familiar with fine restaurant practices by now! I raised a firm point with the waiter who had given us the bill, and fortunately his manager was kind and proactive enough to approach us personally to apologise and to waive the £17 off the bill - good service recovery at least.

For sure, the presentation and making of these ice creams using a signature Heston technique were nothing short of dramatic, but still they could hardly have been worth that much even by Michelin standards. Compared to its use in The Fat Duck which I'd recently visited, the liquid nitrogen procedure was definitely more style than substance here - the ice cream wasn't any more special in taste and texture than what you'd expect from a fine restaurant (or indeed, what we just had in the millionaire tart dessert). To be expected to pay £8.50 for a one-minute show and a meagre cone of ice-cream just seems a little outrageous. Anyway, you have been warned about the price, in case you still want to experience this fancy process for yourself!

Actual petit fours to end the meal: the same offerings as during my last visit, namely a caraway biscuit, and chocolate mousse infused with Earl Grey tea and orange blossoms. These were lovely as usual; I thought the chocolate and Earl Grey combination worked particularly well due to a common mild bitterness, as well as a characteristic citrusy freshness from the Earl Grey which balanced the rich chocolate very effectively.

All things considered, this had been a great meal despite the final hiccup with extra charges (which was resolved in a professional manner). The service was friendly and enthusiastic, the food was brilliant even at this supposedly 'budget' set lunch price, and the atmosphere was completely relaxed, which made for a really lovely afternoon catching up with Chris. I hope to return soon!

[Update 25/09/2013: Dinner has just been awarded two Michelin stars in the latest UK guide (for the year 2014). Well deserved - congratulations!]