St.John

I’ve had more meals at St.John than at any other sit-down restaurant except Edinburgh’s Yum Yum HK Diner – going for lunch at St.John Bread and Wine, the Spitalfields alter ego of the Smithfield mother ship St.John, has become something of a Sunday ritual before the 4 o’clock from King’s Cross to Edinburgh. The point of St.John and its offshoot is to evoke the British table of yesteryear, or, it often seems, yestercentury, to return to popular consumption some of the tastiest nuggets of bygone British produce. The mother ship itself currently sits at number 43 in the San Pellegrino list of the world’s top 50 restaurants, and must surely be the most reasonably priced establishment anywhere on that list. The fact it has fallen 29 points in the rankings on last year is not, I am sure, because of any inherent decrease in quality, but as a result of the changing mores of fashion and competition. We tend to prefer Bread and Wine on account of the light, informal dining room and the more morsel-based menu that rather obviates the starter-main dichotomy. Against that, though, there is one delicacy that we never see on the menu at Bread and Wine; the joyous, gelatinous, exceedingly messy bone marrow.

We’re getting familiar with many of the dishes that come and go at Bread and Wine, but there were a number of novelties on our Yuletide visit. Our guest Professor Corner thought that the oxtail and potato pie did not rise above the level of a simple cottage pie, leaving the singular attraction of oxtail rather obscured. I confess I have had a great oxtail experience, but this was not it. (My great oxtail experience was Paula Wolfert’s Stop-and-Go Braised Oxtails with Oyster Mushrooms - from the Slow Mediterranean Cookbook - as cooked by N1.) Far more exciting, and the highlight of the meal for me, was the blood cake and duck egg; the blood cake was a black pudding with fibres of pork meat through it, one of the tastiest things I’ve ever had at St.John. I thought I didn’t like duck eggs, but that may be a function of the very particular ducks my parents kept; the poached egg on the blood cake was perfectly unobjectionable. The smoked mackerel had a lovely skin that made it look like it had been hammered out of bronze, and the flavour was straight out of an Arbroath smokehouse; the horseradish it came with was a perfect foil to the smoky flavour. Potted widgeon was a lovely piece of salted duck with vinegary pickles on the side.

In search of unread Proust (the sections we skipped to get to the end), we ordered madeleines, which came after the advertised 15-minute wait, warm from the oven, lovely, spongy, and ready to evoke associations of lost time. A slice of parsnip cake, made with cinnamon and walnuts, was like a rather superior carrot cake, served with a very rich Jersey cream. Bread pudding, seeded with mincemeat fruits and served with butterscotch sauce, was very Christmassy.

We drank:

St.Maurice 2007, Domaine de Deurre, Vinsobres, Côtes du Rhône Villages                                             

…but it was rather disappointing. There was fruit (raspberries, blackcherries) but this soft, lightly tannic wine was simple and unstructured.

A glass of

Seduction 2007, Château de Jurque, Jurançon

was had for dessert, sweet wine from the south of France. Attractive, balanced, it smelt of passionfruit with an intensity more characteristic of New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc.