FOOD + DRINK northern Greece. Orange wine still often gets filed under fashion or fad, which does it a disservice- fermenting white grapes on their skins is how Georgians have made wine in clay earthenware for millennia and what the skins give is‘ grip’, a gentle tannin that lets a white stand its ground against salt, smoke and fat. The lemon and white peach of the wine met the brine of the oysters head on, while that grip cut clean through the mortadella and anchovy; the rest of the wine list, as you can imagine, is as accomplished.
My favourite dish?‘ Mussels on toast, smoked bacon.’ Five modest words on the menu that appeared as anything but. A generous pile of fat, fresh mussels sitting on a doorstep of toasted sourdough swimming in a buttery, herby sauce that seeped into its once-sturdy structure, the classic mariniere sauce was thickened in both flavour and viscosity by generous measures, while the bacon threaded it with smoke and occasional crunch. It tastes like a bowl of comfort food with impeccable manners and is fast becoming Keller’ s signature.
The bigger plates belong to the Bertha and we ordered two. A rib of dry-aged beef came charred and pink, with earthy charcoal aromas and a depth of flavour that only proper ageing gives, its fat rendered to something close to caramel. The lamb chops meanwhile were crisped to amber at the edges and pink all the way through, with sweet, smoky meat in every bite and a rich, rendered outer layer that I shamelessly abandoned my cutlery to gnaw on. Sides-wise, a charred romaine Caesar set the bitter edge of the grill against a sharp, salty dressing, while warm new potatoes were tumbled through the French canonical blend of parsley, chives, chervil and tarragon.
With the meat came Restless River’ s 2023 Pinot Noir from South Africa’ s Hemel-en- Aarde,‘ heaven and earth’ in Afrikaans, made by self-taught winemaker Craig Wessels. If you think of pinot as the shy one at the party, think again, this one has a lot more oomph, with ripe red cherry and spice over smooth tannins that sit alongside the beef and lamb rather than wrestle them.
Pudding is not optional. We finished our feast with a comforting chocolate crémeux with hazelnut and malt ice cream that tasted like I imagine Ferrero Rocher and
Horlicks would taste if they’ d been to finishing school. The lemon meringue with lemon ice cream and toasted oats was tart, soft and crunchy in turn. Then came a selection of three cheeses, ordered on the grounds that there was still wine in the glass, which is the only argument anyone needs.
The one that got away? The lobster salad. It sat on the menu all evening like an unanswered text in my peripheral vision until I decided, nobly, that ordering it on top of everything else would tip greed into gluttony. Weeks later, I’ m still thinking about it. In a kitchen this deft with shellfish, lobster was never going to be an afterthought, so it is the first reason of many I’ ll be back ASAP.
That, really, is the cleverness of Keller. It has all the produce and technical knowledge of a starred kitchen, with the soul of a local you instantly call home, in a town that has always known how to eat but has never had quite this kind of place to drink. Kent’ s north coast is lucky to have it.
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