It took me a very long time, after first being employed, to get the hang of long lunches. Some puritanical streak within me forced me to bring in my own sandwiches or soups almost every day, for nigh on four years. For a real treat, I would occasionally allow myself a sandwich purchased from a nearby deli. Oh, how things have changed.
I am now a seasoned practitioner of the long lunch. It's such a healthy thing to do: take an hour and a half out of your day; see a friend; eat good food; return to work happy. When a friend, in something of a blue funk anyway, mentioned she'd never been to the Rickety Press, I immediately prescribed a lunch.
At the time of the visit, they had a rather nice little lunch menu at £12.50 for two courses, or £15 for three. I went for a starter and a main course from that menu, but with only three options for each course, my companion decided to order a la carte instead. I don't normally order soup in restaurants (it's one of those things I feel I can do better myself), but as the only veggie starter on the set menu, I was happy to break this rule for a minted pea soup. Except, when it arrived, it was the truffled cauliflower soup from the a la carte menu that arrived. Even better, as far as I was concerned. It was slightly too wintery for the sunny day we ate on, but wonderfully heady with truffle oil. It felt nourishing, whilst still being rather decadently creamy.
Revealing that there's been something of a gap between the meal and this review, my dining partner ordered a plate of some of the season's first asparagus, served with a hollandaise sauce. The sauce was truly superb, both rich and buttery and sharp and citrussy, and was served in a generous enough quantity for me to spend quite some time wiping her plate with my finger. It was, admittedly, slightly pricey for just a few spears, but then it was very early in the season.
Due to the soup mix-up, I ended up also having cauliflower for my main, but this did provide the kitchen with a convenient opportunity to show their versatility, for the two dishes could not have been more different. There was a giant slab of roast cauliflower in the middle of the plate, charred and sweet, hiding a heap of purple sprouting broccoli, and some lightly crushed new potatoes in a lemony mustardy dressing. The cauliflower was a revelation even to an established roast-cauliflower lover like me: I'd scoffed when people had told me about the "cauliflower steak" concept but this actually did manage to replicate some of the flavours you'd get from a good steak. The iron-rich sprouting helped, although roasting had left it slightly tough.
Across the table was a smoked haddock and salmon fishcake, and yes, the singular pronoun is the correct one. This was a massive beast of a fishcake, hulking in the middle of the bowl, dwarfing the poor little assorted salad leaves around it. It was so huge that the little dish of tartare had to be served on the side. It was generously filled, too, with a good ratio of fish-to-potato, but I think I would have preferred the better crunch-to-mush ratio of normal sized fishcakes.
However, the real highlight of the meal was the chips. There was some confusion as to whether they would even be ordered, with the waiter first recommending them, and then suggesting just a vegetable side instead. Then there was a debate about whether to order the "fries" or the triple cooked chips. We plumped for the fries. I'm not a thick chips person. And then the triple cooked chips arrived anyway.
What a relief, for these were easily the best chips I've ever had. Huge, crunchy shards, you might think to look at them that there would be too much soft interior, but the kitchen had somehow managed to cook them so that the outer crisp layer was a good centimetre thick. Some of them were *only* crisp layer. And the portion was massive: you could easily just order a side of these for lunch, and leave a very happy person.
To complete the occasion, we ordered prosecco, and were beyond delighted to have it served in 1920s-style shallow glasses. Why do more places not have such class? The service, mostly, lived up to that standard: despite being occasionally muddled, they were charming in a highly professional manner. Seated in the front of the pub, the decor was almost too casual for the food and drink, but better the bustle there than the silence of the linen-tableclothed restaurant proper at the back. We departed, as we should be, happy.
No comments:
Post a Comment