The eagle-eyed amongst you may have spotted the editor has the same surname as me... yes, my editor also happens to double up as my sister; she’s cheap, I’ll give her that. Throughout my school years, Gaby has been nice/easily persuaded enough to look over and edit pieces of my work; from year nine Spanish work to A-Level English coursework (I hope no-one from Ofsted or Edexcel are reading). I often get slightly carried away with my writing style and can sometimes fail to make sense to those people out there who aren’t me. Indeed, she had to take out a slightly strange analogy involving a burlesque dancer when I was talking about yoghurt earlier on in the book. I still stand by that it made perfect sense.
Usually Gaby receives nothing more than good old (no-money exchanging hands) appreciation, but due to the more exhausted length of this publication and the fact I was charging for the book, I felt it only right to pay for her services. In keeping with the theme of the book, I felt the appropriate payment was to take her out for a nice meal. This, again, a purely altruistic move on my side, the fact that I would be her dining partner barely even factored into the equation.
So, after extensive restaurant research, I settled on The Manor, in Clapham. A fairly new restaurant at the time and one which had been earning some rave reviews. Again, the fact that being a new restaurant the prices were slightly lower than normal was mere coincidence.
Anyway, to the meal.
The bread served immediately upon seating set a very high and exciting precedent for the meal. The bread, fresh out of the oven sourdough, with cloud like butter, whipped with chicken skin was a joy to behold. Bread and butter such as this sets the benchmark for the meal to come and boy did it raise the bar high.
Snacks soon followed; more bread, this time potato filled, served with aubergine. As well as this, we went for cod cheeks, which while very pleasant, couldn’t quite match the satisfying goodness that is bread and dip.
I can’t remember seeing a menu before where I wanted it all, when I was closest to proclaiming, ‘I’ll have one of everything’*. This came at a price (literally); my inability to rein my foodie instincts in, meant when the bill arrived I was paying more than I had budgeted for (sound familiar?). * ’and make it snappy!’
Like the whole meal, a visit to the toilet was a memorable experience. I can only describe it by comparing it to a mental asylum during play time or art hour. A small note from the restaurant claims they ran out of budget and left a few paint canisters for diners to ‘decorate’. The cynic in me (and it grows larger year by year) leads me to think that the management were attempting something cooky and unique, rather than just budgetary miscalculation. Either way, I think it slightly missed the mark. It was a little disturbing... the dripping red drops of paint particularly. I like to take my time in the loo, it’s where I have many of my best ideas and is the place I ponder life’s big questions. This bathroom did not create an environment where I felt comfortable wondering whether there is an afterlife or not or debating what the meaning of life is, and this, for me, is a shame.
Anyway, back to the food, none of which missed the mark. A starter of Cauliflower, medjool dates, cacao and kaffir lime read like a bit of a car crash on the menu, but intrigued me nonetheless. And so like those people who take pictures of car crashes, I went for it. I found my self battling with the unusual combination at first, with the dish leaning dangerously close to dessert like sweetness. However, after the initial eyebrow raising mouthfuls, apprehension was replaced with admiration. The cauliflowers slight bitterness the perfect partner for its sweet counterparts. By the end, I was totally enamored with the dish.
Mackerel and partridge followed, both executed expertly. The partridge particularly, served with fermented grains, parsnip and malt granola was just down right tasty.
Unless this book takes off more than expected (tell your friends), I will now struggle to even break even after this meal. Not because The Manor didn’t offer good value for money, the contrary is true, but quite simply I have big eyes and thus ordered above the expected and needed threshold. This to the extent that the maitre’d complimented us when he served us our desserts, all three of them.
The desserts all offered something different, like a bride on her wedding day, there was something indulgent, something unusual, something refreshing, something (not) blue. Artichoke and quince, much like the cauliflower earlier, took me a little while to fully appreciate, though come round I did. An apple parfait always goes down a treat and was suitably freshening. Dramatically, the dessert chef, Kira Ghidoni, ex of Fera at Claridge’s, went all Heston Blumenthal on us and deep froze a few leaves of sorrel using liquid nitrogen. I take the blame for being one of those foodies who has to snap all they consume and the frozen sorrel went all floppy on us; though it seemed more of a gimmick above anything else to me anyway. This was not to the downfall of the dish however. The frozen chocolate fondant was gloriously indulgent and I appreciated its more recognizable format as one of three desserts.
Ultimately, if the meal hadn’t been one of such excitement, flavour and originality, I would have been left feeling a little resentment that my sister is nice is enough to edit this book and thus making me feel that I had to pay her! The cheek!
The Manor is a restaurant in line with what seems to be a new wave of restaurants sweeping the London food scene. What one may call modern British. Healthy(ish), gorgeously presented local produce with a less stuffy atmosphere. A small plate and smaller menu concept is also all the rage, with nordic influences popping up here and there.
This was up there with my most enjoyable and memorable meals I’ve ever had the pleasure of eating. Not just the flavours of the food, but the originality and inventiveness of its presentation and ingredient combinations. As soon as I left the restaurant door, I was planning my next trip, ready to try everything I couldn’t this time.
P.S. I apologize if this review is harder to follow, this being one of the only sections Gaby hasn’t looked over.