Having lived in north and east London for a few years now, I’ve been getting happily accustom to the smattering of small, interesting restaurants popping up right on my doorstep. Som Saa have lit the charcoals in the arches just across the park, Hill and Szrok take the meat off the hooks and invite diners into their Broadway Market butchers, and it’s only a few minutes further to Sager and Wilde for the promise of a decent glass of wine and a melting toastie. They join old hands at places like Trullo, The Empress and Trangallan, and are all reachable within 20 minutes from my flat. This was heavy on my mind as TFL advised me in the bluntest way possible that my planned dinner booking would require bus, train and foot. I had to double take. It may as well have said air, land and sea. But there was promise that wrapping up warm on the first snowy day of the year to travel right across London would be worth it, and I was not so quietly excited. In fact I since I booked my table at The Manor my anticipation had been steadily building. I felt like I could recite the menu by heart, along with a handful of newpaper reviews that all shouted GO GO GO. So if there was a fall to be had I had well and truly dug my pit. Nine stops on the tube would be a long trudge for any disappointment to marinate.
I was early, and instead of doing the sane thing and finding a bar to prop for an hour, I decided a quick reacquaintance with Clapham was in order. It had been years and I was surprised. Yes, the same crap bars guffed out the same music that threatened to drown out recruitment consultants comparing shiny ties and cufflinks. But round the edges it showed that it wasn’t just the north that was enjoying its crop of food prospects. Perhaps a slightly ridiculous enlightenment, as restaurants such as Trinity and The Dairy have been making their mark for a good while, but aside from that were the little side street, neighbourhood restaurants; all dim-lit and full of bustle. And then there was The Manor itself. And I have never been to an eatery more brimming with surprises. The cleverly partitioned room gave an illusion for somewhere far smaller, where every area had its own intimacy. A mixture of scribbled graffiti and traditional old house relics adorned the walls, whilst the well-spaced tables were etched like a mischievous school child’s. It was refreshing to be somewhere injected with a sense of casual fun. But make no mistake, beneath all of the doodles lay some serious cookery.
Now back to that memorised menu. For a largely indecisive chap like me this was torture, and for all my revision I was still none the wiser. Everything read brilliantly, with each dish both simple yet intriguing. Staunchly seasonal British ingredients were hay-smoked, fermented or burnt, and combined with the more foreign influences of kimchi, medjool dates and wakame. Little bits of charm were also adorned here and there; at first I blindly assumed that the “Sweet Promise” and “JulieGirl” next to the fish courses were some sort of zany preparation technique, but as a frequent visitor to the coast I also recognised that they could well have been the names of the boats in which they were landed. A nice touch, and in keeping with the small-scale growing and supply ethos adopted by both the Manor and sister-restaurant The Dairy. None of this though could help us decide, and there was an extreme FOMO going on.
The first food to arrive at our table was a small loaf of beautifully warmed bread with a pebble carrying a heap of chicken skin butter. It was just the very thing needed to set us up for what was to come, yet if all food had ended there I would have left a very happy customer. It was that good. I was surprised we had any left by the time the bowl of Cornish crab, charred celeriac and buttermilk came. This was an absolute delight, with rich chunks of crustacean and wafer thin smokey celeriac bathing in a cloud of stupidly light, slightly acidic buttermilk. Everything danced along to the same swooning harmony; it was comfort food at its very best. By this point extra bread had been offered, which made excellent dunking until every morsel was gone.
Two vegetable plates arrived next. Both simple menu descriptions could easily have been taken as side dishes or menu filler; a bowl of greens and some cauliflower, but they were so much more. They were a masterclass in how to treat such humble produce and transform it into something incredible, the sort of thing that you want to feed to those boring folk who won’t eat unless there is a slab of meat. The cauliflower was all layers of subtle-yet still savoury sweetness, whist the kale and cavolo nero hid a depth of glorious char.
At this point another surprise at the arrival of chef and owner Robin Gill carrying two off-menu dishes. It was great to talk through the menu with the man who had designed it, although after what we had eaten already I’m sure it may have been a borderline gush-fest. The smoked eel, cultured cream, new potato and sorrel that he left us with was yet another triumph, and as a diner there is nothing more special than the hosts going an extra mile. The fish courses proper came soon after; a perfectly cooked piece of on-the-bone skate balanced beautifully with earthy mushroom and salsify, and clean and refreshing mackerel, nori and cucumber. With the massive amount of technique and ingredients running through the menu, most restaurants serve something that just doesn’t quite work. Here there was no sign of a bum note.
When a meal heads towards dessert, it sometimes feels like things start to go a little through the motions. Not here. This is where the fun really began. Invited up to the ‘dessert bar’, I couldn’t help thinking of childhood trips to Pizza Hut and endless bowls of synthetic soft-scoop. Instead we sat at a smart bar overlooking a super-clean and professional pastry section. Here we were introduced to pastry chef Kira, who was nothing short of brilliant. Despite us asking a billion questions and snapping away with cameras, she was composed and entertaining as she made us two desserts each. She told us that for the first time at a restaurant she had been allowed creative freedom and it showed; each bowl looked and tasted wonderful. The first I had was a lemon sorbet with gin and cucumber which managed to totally cleanse and cut through the total glut of consumption so far. This was followed by apple parfait, feather-light meringues and a sorrel leaf that emerged from a cloud of liquid nitrogen, so brittle it could be broken with the back of a spoon. Kira told us that she had performed for over 70 that day, yet every quenelle of ice cream or piece of garnish was handled with patience and perfection.
The last surprise of the meal was the price. For a long and winding meal packed with dish after dish of hugely impressive food we couldn’t believe it. Had this have been in a marble-columned hotel in town it could easily have been four times more and you wouldn’t have blinked.
So I can conclude with nothing different to what I had read pre-visit. GO. This is the sort of restaurant that you want to take each and every one of your friends to, the sort you want just around the corner to visit every week.
Spring is just around the corner. The heating is still on but the sun is starting to creep through what seems like months of dreary cloud. Wild garlic has just sprung up, and we’re within reaching distance of Jersey Royals, early asparagus and broad beans; those short-season vegetables that I yearn for every year. But it’s easy to forget about the amazing cold weather produce that we have right now. Vegetables like carrot and beetroot often get a raw deal and are labelled as dull and boring, but with a little bit of thought they can be the stars of the show.
I was inspired reading an article by Henry Dimbleby recently where he wrote that that you should avoid boiling vegetables at all costs. This reminded me of growing up, where my brother and I used to be given little side bowls of soft broccoli, carrots and beans alongside pretty much anything. We both loved vegetables when we were young and would wolf them down with our pasta, curry or chicken escalope. But it was hardly exciting stuff, just something that we ate quickly because we were told it was good for us. Dimbleby, and more prolifically Yotam Ottolenghi, have shown that you can transform and enhance the flavours of our humble groceries using other simple methods. Now I look to roast or fry wherever possible, making sure that I dress with butter, oil and flavourings once cooked.
Despite the fact that this blog is filled with meat and fish recipes, these are mostly the things that I save for special occasions. Most of the time, especially midweek, I eat a vegetable-heavy diet that includes little to no meat. I’m lucky to have a fantastic greengrocer just around the corner from me, and I pop in most days to grab super fresh, seasonal produce for my supper. I think that meat and fish are a bit of a treat, and I’d far rather spend more at a good quality butcher or fishmonger less frequently than cheaper, poorly reared stuff every day from the supermarkets. Not having meat with every meal is one of those things that particularly testosterone-heavy men get hot under the collar about, but it is so easy to knock up simple and amazing tasting dishes using veggies alone. And lord knows I’ve had some practice; both of my sisters are vegetarians and you can’t keep on serving grilled halloumi every time they come round…
It’s now fairly easy to get hold of different colours and varieties of carrots and beets, and these really help create a visual impact. Roasting and salt-baking intensifies the flavour, and there’s something a little caveman like about pulling a solid lump of salt out of the oven and smashing it with a spoon. I’ve also tried to use as much of the vegetable as I can. Just like using the less glamorous cuts of meat, we often needlessly throw away bits of perfectly good veg. In this case I’ve saved the leaves from the tops of the carrots and beetroot to add a different taste and a bit of texture to the dish.
Those little crispy quail eggs are addictive. The soft boiling and peeling process can be a little fiddly with my big clumsy hands, but it’s worth making way more as you’ll just want to eat then straight out of the fryer.
Serves 2
Ingredients:
For the salt-baked beetroot:
3 beetroots, washed but left unpeeled
4 egg whites
800g table salt
2 sprigs of rosemary, leaves picked
For the roasted carrots:
3-4 carrots, washed and peeled
5 sprigs of thyme
5 sprigs of rosemary
3 cloves of garlic, crushed
1 lemon, zest finely grated and juice kept
Olive oil
For the quail’s eggs:
3 quail eggs
5tbsp panko breadcrumbs
3tbsp plain flour
1 egg, beaten
Vegetable oil for frying, approx. 1ltr
2tbsp white wine vinegar
For the crispy carrot tops:
6 carrot top cuttings
For the sautéed sprout flowers:
A handful of sprout flowers, sliced in half lengthways if large
1 clove of garlic, thinly sliced
The leaves from the beetroot, washed and trimmed
1tbsp butter
6 wild garlic leaves
½ a lemon, juice only
For the olive crumb:
About 20 Kalamata or other strong black olives
Salt
For the garlic oil:
4tbsp extra virgin olive oil
2 garlic cloves, finely sliced
1 sprig of rosemary, leaves picked
Salt
For the whipped goat’s curd:
4tbsp fresh goat’s curd
1tbsp double cream
Pepper
For the beetroot yoghurt:
½ a red beetroot, peeled and cut into rough 1cm pieces
4tbsp natural yoghurt
Salt
A few components of this dish are better prepared the night before.
To make the beetroot yoghurt, put the beetroot chunks into a small bowl and sprinkle over a little salt. Leave for five minutes for the juices to start to leach out and then mix in the yoghurt. Cover and refrigerate for at least a couple of hours, the colour and flavour will get more vivid the longer you leave it. When ready to use, strain through a sieve and discard the beetroot.
For the olive crumb, remove the stones from the black olives by pushing and rolling on a chopping board. Scatter onto a greaseproof-lined baking tray and cook in a low oven (about 80⁰C) overnight, or until fully dried out. Transfer to a small food processor and blend to a fine powder.
The garlic oil is also best made a little in advance. Combine the sliced garlic and rosemary leaves in a bowl with a little salt. Leave for a couple of minutes and then pour over the extra virgin olive oil. Cover and allow to steep for at least a couple of hours.
Fill a small saucepan with water and bring to the boil. Add the quail eggs and boil for 2 minutes, then quickly remove to a bowl of iced water mixed with the vinegar. Leave to cool for 10 minutes, then roll very gently against the bottom of the bowl to crack the shell before carefully peeling. Dry with kitchen roll. Put the panko, flour and beaten egg into two plates and a bowl respectively and season all elements well. Roll the soft-boiled eggs in the flour, then dip in the egg before finally coating in the breadcrumbs. Put on a plate and refrigerate until needed.
On the day of serving the dish, preheat the oven to 190⁰C.
Make the salt paste by combining the table salt, rosemary and egg whites in a large bowl. You may need a little more salt depending on the size of the eggs. Wrap the beetroot with the salt mixture and bake in the oven for about an hour.
Put the carrots, garlic, thyme, rosemary, lemon zest and seasoning into a separate baking dish and toss with a little olive oil. Roast in the same oven as the beetroot for 30-45mins, shaking the tray occasionally. When cooked, remove from the oven and squeeze over the lemon juice.
Spoon the goat’s curd into a bowl and add the cream and a good twist of pepper. Stir well with a fork until combined and smooth.
When the vegetables are nearly cooked, heat the frying oil in a heavy saucepan until it reaches 165⁰C. Fry the carrot tops very quickly for about 30 seconds, then remove with a slotted spoon and drain on kitchen paper. Keep the oil hot for the eggs later on.
When tender, remove the root vegetables from the oven. Crack the salt crusts from around the beetroot and peel away the skin. Cut the beets into wedges and slice the carrots lengthways into halves or quarters. Keep warm while you finish the rest of the dish.
To cook the greens, heat the butter with a little oil in a large frying pan. Soften the garlic over a medium heat and then add the sprout flowers and cook for a couple of minutes until al-dente. Season and stir through the wild garlic and beetroot tops. Fry for a further minute, then squeeze over the lemon juice and remove from the heat.
Fry the coated quail eggs for a minute or so in the hot oil or until light golden brown. Slice in half then sprinkle with salt and pepper.
To plate up, spoon a bit of the beetroot yoghurt on one side of the plate and place a quenelle of the goat’s curd in the middle. Arrange the carrots, beets, greens and three egg halves on the other half of the plate. Place on a couple of the crispy carrot tops. Spoon over some of the garlic oil and finally sprinkle on some of the olive crumb.
