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Fay Maschler's rating
The Medlar is ripe for a tuck-in
By
Fay Maschler
28 Apr 2011
A medlar is a fruit that requires "bletting" to become edible.
It means that once ripe, medlars are left to decay and ferment before being used in the kitchen - usually to make a jelly or "cheese". For a new young team of chef and manager plus a sommelier who last year was voted Young Sommelier of the Year, it is an odd, mildly doleful choice of restaurant name.
Chef Joe Mercer Nairne has come from Chez Bruce, where David O'Connor was manager - as he was at The Square and most recently The Ledbury. All three restaurants are part of the same group. The pair's bid for independence from Nigel Platts-Martin and his cohorts seems bold but bear in mind Mercer Nairne's ambition was forged on the playing fields of Eton - and burnished by a stint at Rockpool in Sydney.
To someone (me) who goes to more new restaurants than is probably good for either of us, Medlar is heart-warmingly old school. There is no "concept" beyond a jolly good tuck-in. Small plates mean just somewhere to park homemade focaccia and sourdough; bookings are gratefully received with no time limit stipulated; seating is comfortable; art on the walls looks to have been chosen because someone really likes it; seasonality trumps surprise and the "I'll just have a couple of starters and a glass of still water" tendency is discouraged by a fair fixed price for three carefully crafted courses and the aforementioned perspicacious sommelier, Clement Robert.
Having booked a couple of days ahead, four of us were rewarded with one of the booths with emerald green buttoned upholstery - a fabric that seems eminently wipeable - that divide the ground floor (unrecognisable from its previous incarnation as Vama) between tables facing gastronomically barren King's Road and those beneath a glazed roof at the back. The designers Turner (Bunny) and Pocock (Emma) have thoughtfully provided a greeny-grey interior, complete with daffy lampshades, that is probably a pretty seamless progression from the drawing rooms of the stuccoed terrace houses behind.
The menu offers six choices in each course plus cheeses served in place of dessert for a £4 supplement or at £10 as an extra course. When I see such manoeuvres I always look for cheese included as part of the savoury dishes. Cheese doesn't last long, doesn't benefit from bletting, so why set up a deterrent to customers having it?
New-season asparagus with soft polenta, poached pheasant's egg, trompettes mushrooms and Berkswell was a poem of resisting and yielding textures to which the nutty, almost Pyrenean flavour of the unpasteurised ewe's milk cheese contributed considerably more than just being a Neal's Yard refugee from the main board (if it was).
My friend and neighbour Stephen, who turned out to be The Perfect Companion - he emailed his own review upon returning home - described sea trout tartare with pickled cucumber, tomato water and tobiko (flying-fish roe) as "sublime", adding that it was "perfectly composed" and an accurate portion: "not too big/stingy". Foie gras, tongue and smoked duck breast terrine served with warm lentils and toasted brioche showed the result of Mercer Nairne having learned with the best - Bruce Poole.
Crab raviolo with a fondue of leeks and a bisque sauce tricked out with brown shrimps and samphire had that rich stuffing straining to burst through a tight casing that brings to mind Gordon Ramsay's way with this dish. I think I read somewhere that Mercer Nairne did time with Ramsay. Anyway, it was excellent. The samphire added agreeable asperity.
In the main course the two standout dishes were roasted cod with celeriac purée, purple sprouting broccoli, toasted almonds and anchovy vinaigrette - "expertly cooked… if a bit old-fashioned" said helpful Stephen - and under-blade fillet with persillade snails, salad, triple-cooked chips and Béarnaise. All the resources of the worldwide web have failed to elucidate satisfactorily what under-blade fillet is but it carries flavour and the chips packed a crunch. Potato ravioli with truffle emulsion, tomato petals, pea shoots, Parmesan and morels deal a much better hand to vegetarians than they are accustomed to.
Lunch (same menu for less money) on another day revealed the pleasure in a first course of thinly sliced pork belly with meat juice vinaigrette, radicchio, fondant potatoes and salsa verde - like the best possible version of the morning after the roast before - and the loquacity of the lamb when served as rack, confit shoulder (spiffing) and breaded sweetbread with broad beans, mustardy aubergine purée and gremolada.
Both meals sustained their momentum with delectable desserts, with special mention for lemon curd and yoghurt ice cream with blueberry compôte and teeny meringues and blood orange sorbet with a good slug of Sipsmith gin and freshly baked madeleines. A restaurant like Medlar doesn't come along often these days, which is reason enough to hurry there.
Details are correct at the time of publication - please check with venue before booking.
Reader views (1)
I went to Medlar restaurant after reading this review. We were blown away by the food and delighted by the service - too often great food is ruined by a stuffy and pretentious atnosphere, but not at Medlar. We started with sea trout and crab ravioli - both light and delicious - followed by halibut with an amazing sauce and perfectky cooked under blade fillet. The portions were perfect, they left you room to want slightly more and left room for desserts - walnut tartlet and chocolate torte.
I don't generally go back to restaurants as there are so many in London to try but there was lots on the menu that we reluctantly didn't sample.
- Chloe Foxton, London, 04/05/2011 17:49
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