Roasted bone marrow with parsley salad at St. John
fish and chips from the Sherlock Holmes pub in London. Expecting
fish sticks, I was heartily surprised to see an entire fish half, no
head, with the tail. It was crisp and juicy, not at all oily. I preferred
to douse mine in malt vinegar, although the tartar sauce was
homemade and wonderfully herbed. It went great with the thick cut
chips. Best damn fish n’ chips I’ve ever had.
The next evening, I arrived at St. John. Chef Fergus Henderson
is completely self-trained. In 1994 he opened St. John. Raved
about by the likes of Anthony Bourdain and Mario Batali, Chef
Henderson’s cuisine is traditional British foods with a focus on
what are often called “The Nasty Bits”. He is in a class by himself.
Approaching the restaurant my companion asked, “Are you sure
this is a world-class spot?” The restaurant is in a working-class
neighborhood. It is as unassuming a facade as I could imagine.
Walking in, the bar was crowded. It is apparently a hotspot
for the young, fashionable crowd to start the night. Through the
chaotic maze of people we found the dining room. Again, it was
fantastically unassuming with simple wood floors and about 20
tables with simple white tablecloths. The kitchen is open and
surprisingly tiny. Watching the chef glide smoothly around the
kitchen kept me occupied for a good five minutes.
I knew going in that I would order the roasted bone marrow with
parsley salad, for which Chef Henderson is famous. Other than
that, I was unsure. The menu changes daily at St. John, based on
whatever fantastically fresh, locally sourced ingredients appealed to
the chef that morning. Having eaten a light lunch, I was prepared
to feast, and feast I did. Feeling terribly indecisive, I doubled up on
the first two courses. It began with grilled duck hearts with chicory,
as well as the aforementioned bone marrow. For the main course,
sweetbreads sautéed with peas and bacon and a half-order of grilled
ox heart with horseradish and thick cut chips.
On a round white plate, I was served six duck hearts with chicory
in the middle, the whole thing covered in a rich, brown pan sauce.
The duck hearts were cooked medium, with a bit of pink in the
middle. Tender as can be, each mineral-rich heart was juicy and
flavorful, the pan sauce giving a little herb flavor. The chicory was
bitter, which is not a flavor I enjoy, so it went virtually untouched.
The bone marrow serving was huge, with four large bones. Richly,
darkly roasted, they were perfectly prepared and combined with
the parsley salad, great. But the real star of this dish was the light
grey sea salt. The server told me that this salt was quite rare. I wish
I remembered the name of it, because it launched the dish into the
stratosphere. It perfectly balanced the oily, rich marrow. Having
tried roasted marrow a few times before, I finally understood what
all the fuss was about.
The main courses also arrived together. I was agog at the
sight of a ton of sweetbreads – sautéed, not fried – mixed with a
mound of fresh peas and big chunks of bacon. Each one of those
tasty little glands was like a flavor explosion. Creamy and savory
and just oozing with flavor, the peas and bacon proved an ideal
accompaniment. The grilled ox heart was served in slices, each just
ever so pink in the middle. Rich in iron and mineral flavors, the
grilled flavors made this dish more reminiscent of an impossibly
tender steak. The subtle horseradish sauce added a little zing to the
party.
Having gorged myself quite well, I opted for a light dessert - a
scoop of raspberry sorbet. It tasted like the raspberries had been
picked five minutes earlier. Wonderfully fresh and zippy, the
sorbet was topped with a single shot of chilled Russian vodka.
The combination of the fresh fruit and the gentle astringency of
quality vodka was a truly unique flavor. A perfect palate cleanse
to a heavy meal. St. John certainly met, and perhaps exceeded my
high expectations. Again, talented chefs and wonderfully fresh
ingredients combined in a simple, elegant way.
Between the great cask ales, the increasing importance of locally
sourced ingredients and a healthy dose of history, I had a pretty
magnificent dining adventure. And someday, I will make it to “The
Fat Duck”.
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