RIVINGTON GRILL

Do me red do me blue
What goes on behind door number two ?

The other day I wondered whether Mark Hix still had any connection with the Rivington Grill. The question was answered for me (sort of) the other day when I popped into the Shoreditch branch for an impromptu supper. There he was, at the bar, chugging away on a glass of Rose and looking rather hangdog – mind you, he always looks that way – apparently oblivious to all the hustling and bustling around him.

Chastened by the critical drubbing his new West Country eatery had just received ? Possibly. Sudden realisation that Dos Hermanos were right about the Oyster and Chop House being no more than a very ordinary gaff and that all the professional critics (whatever that means) were wrong ? Possibly not. But first a drink.

I’d visited SAF a few weeks ago, had a queer sort of meal and decided that I’d only return to try their drinks. A Dry Martini is the classic test of a bar tender’s skill. The small variations are endless. Like, say a Steak or the inside of a boxing ring there’s nowhere to hide if things go wrong. Unfortunately, SAF got several things wrong. The Martini glass was too big and hadn’t been chilled – putting some ice in for a few minutes was never going to work – and with a standard pour the drink was a bit lost in the bottom. When the barman was making the twist most if not all the vital oils were lost to the ether leaving very little for the drink. Luckily the London Gin used was good so all was not lost. The least I could have expected at £7.

It’s been a while since my last visit to the Rivington Grill. Once a mainstay of DH dining out in the nabe it proved to be a little too inconsistent in quality for the high prices charged. It felt that things were back on form though as I was seated promptly and brought some decent bread and pork scratchings.

Things got even better with my first course. A Scotch Duck Egg was everything I’ve ever wanted in a Scotch Egg. I was expecting some pre-cooked, solid, cold thing. Instead, what arrived had a crisp greaseless breadcrumbed exterior, a warm sausagey layer and a perfectly cooked duck egg at its core. This was Scotch Egg++. The Caper Mayonnaise was great as well. My only (slight) disappointment was that I would have like it served whole so I could have had the pleasure of breaking it open and discovering that someone in the kitchen could cook.

The menu at the Rivington has become even more Hixified than it used to be – it’s peppered (see what I did there) with stuff like Blythburgh pork belly and Speyside flat iron. And who else has Sea Purslane on their current menu ? So, of course, my steak had to come with a name, in this instance, the Bannockburn rib. Chosen because its name spoke of something massive and bloody that would put up a hell of a fight, the reality was more mundane: a fairly polite lump of meat, untidily butchered. The kitchen had at least made a fair attempt at getting a char on the outside and although it tended to charcoal in a couple of places it was correctly rare inside.

Even so, I was disappointed with it. It tasted underhung and was tough (not in a good way) and hard work to eat. This was in part down to the crappy steak knives. They do make a difference, you know.

Chips were vile. Possibly the worst I’ve every had…and I’ve had a lot. They tasted as if they’d been pre-cooked and had been allowed to desiccate – possibly uncovered in the fridge. I had about two of them. I got an apology but really they were so bad that even if I’d been comp’d the whole meal I would still have felt diddled. These were Chips--.

But then, just to confound me further, I had one of the best double espressos of recent times and which was relatively cheap to boot. The accompanying Somerset Brandy helped smooth things out a tad too and sent me off in a slightly better humour.

Like Oyster and Chop House and similar to our earlier experiences of RG the inconsistencies and the lack of care shown with some of the dishes is annoying as it could and should be a whole lot better. I might persevere with RG though as it’s nearby and it did serve me that Scotch Egg. Damn you, RG, you caress me with one hand while poking me in the ample belly, hard, with the other .

HIX OYSTER AND CHOP HOUSE

And they wandered in
From the city of St. John (Slight Return)

Of course this is where I should have been yesterday to celebrate St George’s Day. If anything shouts, nay, screams Britain (sorry, England) it’s Mark Hix’s food. It was still in soft opening mode though and I was told things weren’t running quite tickety-boo. They still weren't when I visited on opening day. Disappointingly the cooking at the Hix Oyster and Chop House just doesn’t pass muster.

I was dining out with one of my foodie chums which was good because it enabled us to have a reasonable stab at the menu – even my gargantuan (ok, greedy guts) appetite is rather on the wane these days.

I didn’t think much of the room or its furnishings: the table was wobbly, the chairs were uncomfortable and you couldn’t hang your jacket on the back of them. There were loads of ceiling fans that I just found distracting and didn’t seem to serve any purpose other than ornamental. It all came across like an attempt at a slightly upmarket Café Rouge.

The menu looked a bit cut down from the one I’d seen on the website but it still read well with lots of good things to choose from. Oysters were served as at Brown’s with the shells on and with meat still attached which meant much messing around with blunt knives. Irritating. Serving them on seaweed just seems like an affectation to me – ice is, as they say, best by test. They tasted good although I’ve had better natives earlier in the season. They didn’t quite have the depth and length of flavour of the best examples.

Of the starters I preferred the Rabbit Brawn although my dining companion wondered how many rabbits you’d need to make it – their heads being not particularly large. In any case it was dense and meaty and tasted of bunny but the portion was rather parsimonious for £8.25. The little accompanying salad of peas and pea shoots was a good idea and tasted fresh and lively. I know Mr Hix’s aim is to make the dishes as plain as possible but some toast wouldn’t have gone amiss here.

They must have been burning five pound notes to make the Smoked Salmon. It’s the only explanation I can think of why three smallish slivers of farmed salmon come in at £10.75. The taste of smoke dominated.

Skate Knobs were fish nuggets fried in a Panko-like covering. Served in a loose, sharp, caper mayonnaise they’d been fried as well as could be expected but like a lot of similar dishes they had a sort of Findus-like quality about them. The solid chunks of fish flesh within were tasty though.

From what I’ve read, Mark Hix’s aim is to try and give the place the feel of an American Steakhouse (now where’ve I heard that before). So the focus should definitely be on the meat. Unfortunately, this is where the food was weakest.

A Bacon Chop lacked fat and flavour. It was cooked rare (too much so for my taste). I know pork and shellfish is a tried and trusted combination but in this case the cockles and laverbread seemed like they’d come from another dish.

Onglet looked a bit better but there was a burnt taste to the meat which was not pleasant. My dinner companion also noted that it was a bit overcooked. A marrow bone had been split and filled with what I think was a marrow bone gremolata and then baked. It just tasted of baked breadcrumbs to me. The best part of the main courses were the sides. Chips, Onion Rings and Béarnaise were all good. A table next to us had the Porterhouse which looked a much better bet on the meat front.

Puddings, enthusiastically priced at £6.75, were not impressive - they looked as if they’d just been chucked on the plate. Buttermilk drop scones were a bit tough and served with a sickly-sweet honeycomb ice cream. Amadei Chocolate mousse was just that. I liked the truffles.

Service was ok – there were plenty of staff milling around – but there were a couple of hiccups. They supersized our wine from a £24 bottle to a £44 quid one although to be fair when I pointed it out they deducted the difference. Also, looking at the bill later on I noticed they overcharged us on two of the starters. Only by a couple of quid, but still.

I’ve got my doubts about Mark Hix. I’m sure in person he’s a decent enough chap but the media portrayal of him some sort of vanguard of British food strikes me as PR-generated guff because he’s failed to deliver on my last two outings to gaffs he’s been associated with. Of course, he’s not doing the cooking at The Albermarle or Hix Oyster and Chop House, but he was here the night I went so presumably he had some control over the dishes going out. And what went out was pretty mediocre.

Still, mediocre goes down a bomb in London these days – it’s more about the scene, you see – and given the Chop House’s prime location I’m sure it will do very well commercially. There are enough know-nothing City boys and Meeja types in the area to make it so. Me, I’m not a fan of artifice so I’m going to continue patronise Vinoteca round the corner. By far the best option in the nabe in my humble opinion.

THE GRILL AT BROWN'S HOTEL

Up on the hill
They've got time to burn

A few months ago a friend of a friend had alerted me to the fact that British cooking stalwart Mark Hix was at The Grill restaurant located in Brown’s Hotel in swanky nabe and haunt of the hedge funders, Mayfair. It seemed like a good bet but with one thing and another I wasn’t able to go. I remedied that situation recently and also discovered that the relaunch will see the restaurant renamed (to The Albermarle Grill) and that Mr Hix will shortly be opening a meat and oyster joint in Smithfield. Exciting times indeed.

I’d never been to the restaurant at Brown’s before. It’s all very nice in a “this is very nice, looks expensive, I wonder who’s paying for it…oh I am” sort of way: wood panelling, widely-spaced tables, napery galore. The only jarring note being some sort of modern art work. I don’t mind modern art but sitting in this sort of room at my time of life brings out the Sir Bufton Tufton in me.

The menu is a more evolved version of the one you’ll find at The Rivington Grill – the other restaurant which Mark Hix owned although I’m not sure what the connection is now (maybe someone could elucidate) – oysters, fish, steaks, pies…you get the idea. All very Mark Hix. As no dish has more than two or three ingredients so the quality and preparation needs to be right up there.

Unfortunately, the Native Oysters were not great. They had been opened but the top shells were replaced. As they were a bit tricky to open I suspect they may have been opened earlier. Certainly, the briny juices within were in short supply. The Oyster meat itself hadn’t been separated from the lower shell which is also a bit odd and a bit rich given that I was paying more than £3 a pop. Five of the oysters were ok, the sixth was a bit suspicious – I only got the slight warning whiff just before the bugger went in my mouth. A couple of hours later I was ruing my lack of vigilance.

The best dish of the meal was similar to one I had tried at the Rivington Grill a few years ago. Baby Squid came with decent Black Pudding (it might have been bacon in the original) with a nicely cooked Duck Egg in the middle. I could have done with a bit more of the pudding but the combination worked really well.

I wanted to have a steak but was irritated by the fact that the there wasn’t enough information on the menu regarding the provenance of the meat or how long it had been aged. For instance “Aberdeenshire Fillet Steak, on the Bone” isn’t telling you a lot and for £29.75 I’d like to know the cow’s name and what it wanted for breakfast.

Thus began a rather surreal dialogue with one member of staff who seemed determined to keep mum.

Me: Where do you get your beef from ?
Brown’s: Aberdeenshire (points to the “From The Grill” section on the menu)
Me: Er…ok…how big are the steaks ?
Brown’s: Which one ?
Me: The Rib for Two.
Brown’s: You can’t have that – it’s for two.
Me (tetchily): I can if I want.
Brown’s: Ok – but it’s very big (holds up hands palms facing each other about a foot apart).
Me: Sorry, I meant how heavy is it. About a kilo ?
Brown’s: Yes, a kilo.
Me: What about the Glen Fyne Rib Steak. How, big is it ?
Brown’s: This big (holds up hands palms facing each other about six inches apart).
Me: Has the beef been hung ?
Brown’s: Which one ? We have several different steaks (points to the “From The Grill” section on the menu)
Me: The Rib Steak ?
Brown’s: I will find out.
Me: Thanks

Methinks it would make life so much simpler if they’d just put “500g, Aged for 28 days” on the menu. Maybe the people who normally eat in Brown’s couldn’t give a monkey’s about provenance, taste or any of that foodie nonsense. As it turned out the steak was fine. It was butchered a bit messily but the cooking and taste were pretty good. Chips were ok too. A side salad of watercress and shallots was a rip-off.

A Parkin for dessert was the wrong shape and tasted a bit clarty but then I wouldn’t expect a restaurant in Mayfair to get this right, I was just curious.

Although it may not seem like it I enjoyed Brown’s more than I thought I would. It’s a nice comfortable place, the cooking’s ok and the service, once we’d got the steak thing out of our respective systems, was on the ball.

Of course London now has a number of places where, if you can do without the fripperies, you can get similar food, for a lot less money. But maybe after the relaunch, if they sort a few things out and you’ve got a rich relative or a newspaper picking up the tab it wouldn’t be such a chore to have a meal here. I’d avoid the oysters though.