Would you fork out £32.50 for fish and (7½) chips?
THE fish is line-caught and so fresh that the fisherman is probably still in his wellies.
The chips – all seven and a bit of them – have been made to measure and cooked thrice at three different temperatures over an entire day, while there is nothing as vulgar as a newspaper wrapped around this portion.
Most remarkable of all, though, is the secret ingredient in the batter: Sparkling water. Apparently, the bubbles in the £4-a-bottle Kingsdown mineral water put a little extra lightness and pzazz into the mix.
The more I learn about Britain’s grandest and most expensive plate of fish and chips, the more I begin to understand why it costs £32.50 (plus 12.5 per cent service). But is it worth it?
Few things illustrate the social chasm between London’s West End and, say, Grimsby, the spiritual home of British fish and chips, than the contrasting charge for our national dish. For here at Tom Kerridge’s brand new Bar & Grill, just off London’s Trafalgar Square, the price is roughly 500 per cent higher than the average chippy.
Foodies, luvvies and restaurant critics, however, are raving about this must-have new addition to the capital’s foodscape which opened just two weeks ago.
Having won two Michelin stars for his gastropub in Marlow, Buckinghamshire, and celebrity chef status through shows such as Great British Menu, Kerridge has opened his new joint in one of London’s swankiest hotels, the Corinthia, a short walk from Downing Street.
It could hardly be less like your average chippy. Leather banquettes and speakeasy booths are generously spaced beneath a green vaulted ceiling and shimmering bronze sculptures by Kerridge’s artist wife, Beth.
The walls are lined with bottles of vintage wine and slabs of meat, air-drying in wall-to-ceiling glass cases, rather like a library for carnivores. In one corner is a gleaming double decker rotisserie with quail, Cotswold lamb, Scottish beef and Wiltshire venison slow-roasting on spits.
Those wanting a traditional chippy hors d’oeuvre like a pickled onion or a saveloy will have to make do with Loch Duart Salmon (£15) or Essex beetroot salad (£9.50). I begin with a Cornish crab vol-au-vent, which comes apart faultlessly and is served with a little jug of crab bisque (£16.50).
But it is the fish and chips which has been making the headlines. It comes in three stages in rapid succession. First, the waitress deposits the fish itself, a decent-sized chunk of brill (five-and-a-half ounces), positioned on a bed of spinach (not very Grimsby) and a half-lemon wrapped in muslin (ditto).
Next come the seven chips, square cut and served upright in a cup. These have been parboiled, then chilled, then fried in rapeseed oil at 140 degrees then chilled again and finally fried once more at 190 degrees before being laid before me. They also have a dusting of crushed parsley. As you do up North.
Finally, a trio of condiments are presented. There is tartare sauce, crunchier than the usual variety, with cornichons and capers plus grated hard-boiled egg. There is also a brown curry-like bowl of Matson sauce, a ‘homage’ to a Gloucestershire fish and chip shop called Matson’s where Kerridge enjoyed a fry-up in his youth (they do love a ‘homage’, these celeb chefs).
Best of all are the mushy peas, or ‘pease pudding’ to give it its official title. It is more delicate and paler than the vivid green gloop served up in the average chip shop, and made in the traditional way with green split peas, malt vinegar, butter and herbs.
The moment of judgment comes as my knife cuts into the brill. Instead of the usual crunch as a batter mountain caves in to reveal a small morsel of fish within, this is a proper coating which clings happily to the fish. The brill, in turn, does not crumble or flake but stays firm all the way through.
The chips, each roughly the size of a fishfinger, are similarly robust from end to end. It is all superb. This is definitely a square meal, not nouvelle cuisine.
Even so, is it worth £32.50? You can pay more for something much less impressive in this part of London. The service is impeccable, as is the people-watching in this gastronomic opera house of a place. All sorts are here – shouty hedgefunders, telly types, glossy posses of lunching ladies and so on.
On the other hand, you could take a family of four for dinner in much of Britain and still have change. At the award-winning Burton Road Chippy in Lincoln, battered cod is £5.50 with £1.80 for chips (plus 45p for a pickled onion).
Amazingly, one thing is cheaper here in London SW1. Unlike the Burton Road Chippy, Tom Kerridge does not charge for ketchup.
‘Sparkling water makes the batter lighter’