Everything is revolving around our trip to Peru. Being a thoroughly urban type these days I don't possess such things as hiking boots and a rain jacket, so, after a Facebook shout out, kind friends offered to lend me theirs. A trip South of the River was organised last weekend to gather the goods, and whilst we're there, coz like it doesn't happen often, we decided to go to the Clapham restaurant recommended after another FB post, by old acquaintance Claire. I haven't actually spoken to her for about 7 years. Funny what things people respond to on Facebook.
Getting out at Clapham North tube station bought back memories of the time I did used to speak to Claire regularly, when we were part of the same posse that revolved around my then boyfriend, Dave. I think one of this group of ex-High Wiycombers actually lived at the other end of Landor Road where the restaurant is located.
It's handily right opposite the tube - an inconspicuous doorway with an intercom. Once buzzed in, like spies, we were welcomed at the top of the stairs by friendly and professional staff, and seated in the warm and stylish half full dining room. This being Sunday there was an offer of 2 courses for £20, 3 for £24. It all looked delicious, and the same dishes are available on the al a carte at considerably more expense.
I started with the crispy baby artichoke with marinated black olives and parsley & pine nut puree. My only gripe was that it was a very small portion and I was starving, having waived breakfast! Lovely contrast of textures, and perfectly judged combinations of sweet and slightly sour. Matt was equally impressed with his fois gras and chicken liver parfait and tomato chutney. His slab of smooth and creamy parfait was enormous though, so of course I had to help him finish it.
I was the only one with a dessert-shaped hole to fill so ordered poached apple with ginger semifreddo mousse. Not sure which of us ate more of it.
A nice selection of wines by the glass meant I could pretend to be restrained for once with one glass of a lovely rounded Sauvingon Blanc (Domaine Vauvy, Torraine, France 2010) whilst Matt could experiment with 2 different Argentinian reds: Malbec, La Chamiza ‘Polo Amateur’ Mendoza 2010, and Vinedos de la Posada Merlot Fair-Trade, La Rioja, Argentina 2010. All at £7.
The cocktails also sounded enticing, and the two seperate groups of six lads of a certain age (early thirties probably, maybe rugger buggers) were taking full advantage of the cocktail of the day - a Pornstar Martini. An intriguingly incongruous choice I thought, and clearly as close to seedy sex shenangigins as those boys were going to be allowed to get on a Sunday lunchtime in Clapham.
As I wrote on their feedback card in the hope of winning a return visit - it's not cheap, but it is absolutely value for money. Enough of a treat to make it a destination restaurant, but casual enough that we felt comfortable reading the papers over lunch. I wish I lived closer and could call it my local. Thanks Claire; if we get as far as needing a restaurant for number four hundred and nine we'll definitely be back.
Restaurant #4: 9/10
He says...
Loitering on the litter-strewn Clapham North street corner waiting for them to buzz us through the locked door, I felt as though we were about to make an illicit backstreet deal rather than eat a pleasant Sunday lunch.
But this is the way they do things at the exclusive-feeling Four O Nine, which appropriately won the 2010 ‘Hidden Gem’ restaurant award. Climbing the stairs to find elegant décor and welcoming staff rather than a damp bedsit was a relief, despite the curious locally-themed wallpaper featuring images of road signs directing us to Stockwell.
Kat noted with interest that the place was mainly filled with groups of men, which did give it a confusing air of blokey boozer meets mildly romantic eaterie.
After nibbles topped with taramosalata, I have the best (and probably cruellest) thing I’ve eaten this year, beating even the Peruvian chocolate that Kat brought home a few weeks ago: a foie gras and chicken liver parfait with tomato chutney and toast, which tasted so good with Argentinian Malbec that my brain shuddered orgasmically with every mouthful.
After eating about half of the soft block and finding that its subtle yet strangely overpowering flavours just tasted better and better, I entered into a period of giddy enthusiasm, buoyed by mouthfuls of good wine. Like all the best food it had me considering the arrangement of taste buds on my tongue.
As I stuffed slices of parfait on toast into Kat’s mouth whilst praising its velvety smoothness, I wondered whether I was being annoying, and perhaps even showing naiveté by being so excited about what is probably a fairly ordinary parfait.
Almost overcome already, my main course arrives, and once again I feel like the victor in this two-halved game of food: roast sirloin with roast potatoes, carrot fondue, greens, Yorkshire pudding and red wine jus. The beef comes in enormous juicy slabs, edged with yellow chunks of fat and sat on the creamy carrot fondue - the perfect accompaniment. The meal was a rare combination of quantity and quality on a plate.
Kat’s hake with gnocchi looked very sorry by comparison. As did Kat, whose last-minute addition of poached apple did little to redress the balance. Matt 2 – Kat 0.
Restaurant #4: 9/10
