Great RxPectations

Another day, another pharmacy and a couple of lunches.

Mountain Beak Street.

Salt lemon gin + tonic.

The spider crab omelette ie. the reason we came here.

I loved this place instantly because they provided Maldon salt (without me asking) and then encouraged me to refill my pocket salt after I had quit asking for salt in London; the shade of it all.

I loved Chef Parry’s menu at Brat with Klary in 2019 and this was very similar. Seductively mean, no false promises.

Three bites of divinity.

Then I took Peter to a proper lunch at Kiln, where I had two great solo meals in 2019, because I needed him to see their inspiring kitchen setup.

Also such a fun wine list. 

There’s no gas in the building.

Northern Laap Sausage

Pepper Relish with Cucumber

Grilled Rump End with Ubon Relish

Super juicy slow-grilled chicken because they ran out of squid.

Aged cull yaw (a ewe no longer producing milk) and cumin skewer. The melting chunks of fat were the best.

Jungle curry with smoked kippers. This had an herb in it that I hated, so I now understand how cilantro tastes to Amanda. A first for me in life as I can usually choke down anything. 

It was so offensive to my palate that I couldn’t get down more than a bite. The herb was hot mint, also known as Vietnamese coriander, and it tasted like the spray of a stink bug. 

Berries and fermented fish.

Clay pot baked glass noodles with very thin slices of lime-soaked Tamworth braised pork belly and Dorset brown crab. Sweet, sour, squishy, and screaming hot. 

I love Kiln with all my heart. 

Still one of my favorite spots anywhere.

Then the dinner. The big expensive greatly-anticipated dinner with the Two Most Important Men. 

Ashamed to ask for salt but equally ashamed to bring out my own salt, I asked for salt three times before they brought me pepper. Which I hid and replaced with my own salt.

Which they then tried to clear from the table repeatedly.

Sorry, but for a meal that cost more than our mortgage payment, I felt permitted to season my butter as desired.

Smoked cheddar gougères

Buckwheat tartlets with lobster and pickled dill

Another type of tartlet with courgettes (baby zucchini)

These were not very promising mouthfuls.

Sweetcorn chawanmushi with dashi.

Heirloom tomato tart with peach and vanilla. The “peach” was a tomato and peach chutney at the bottom of the tart shell.

It tasted like prunes and ketchup :-(

Then they poured smoked straciatella over the top, to which my dad said “none for me” (the audacity- I stan!).

Parker house rolls showed up next. Huddled together like RC Gorman’s women in cloaks. Shallots and chives in the bread were too aggressive for the rest of the food, and a honey glaze on the exterior made it messy to eat.

This was the only faultless dish of the night.

King Orkney scallops with an Imperial Gold caviar beurre blanc and a purée of sea vegetables and broccoli. We all loved this.

We got the truffle supplement to share. The truffle was shaved over spelt. A culinary fail that tasted like a damp sponge.

John Dory with Vadouvan reminiscent of fish biryani.

I make Vadouvan all the time and mine does not taste like biryani. Brash and unfocused.

Rare roast pigeon with its leg served separately. In the US, I like my squab medium-rare but this was challenging. Slicing into it was like killing it all over again. 

The leg, with its crust of nuts and chocolate, tasted like a Ferrero Rocher filled with blood.

Saw the lovely cheese cart and asked if we could please add a cheese course as a supplement. Denied with the assurance of an extra special cheese course arriving next.

This was so disgusting that neither Peter nor I could eat it. My dad was hungry (he refused to eat the raw pigeon) so he ate his.

Ammoniated crumbs of Colston Bassett Stilton, a wet Savarin cake that overwhelmed with cardamom and broke apart like wet Kleenex, and walnuts that had turned a rancid corner.

The smell reminded me of the flammable solvents my dad uses to get oil paint off his brushes. 

Just really gross and bad.

A sour little passionfruit and saffron gelée that I did not enjoy.

Petit fours.

“After Eight” was a play on one of my favorite candies ever, but it was missing the mint it needed to live the life it deserved.

We had a wonderful time together, but the restaurant, yikes. 

And the price, ouch. 

The wine list was all over the place. The by-the-glass price on bubbles is $50 (!!!!!). Brexit or not, we’re in Europe- they couldn’t find a more reasonably-priced sparkling wine? The UK alone is producing so many awesome ones. Meanwhile their only rosé is a standard and over-produced French label that retails for $14 a bottle in the US and half the price here (Triennes).

Snacks at the hotel with my sister: fries, Padrón peppers, vegetable gyoza and truffle arancini.