London Dining - St. John

The following is a summary of my culinary adventures in London last November (2004). There are scattered travel, site seeing and theatre notes as well, but mostly it is all about the food.

St. John
We arrived a few minutes late for our reservation (had to finish that St. Peters ale across the street) which was no problem. Our party of four was seated in the dining room, with a clear view of the kitchen. From the minute I walked in, I liked the place. The space is somewhat industrial - high ceilings, poured concrete floors downstairs, wide plank wooden floors in the dining room, stark white walls - and you have the feeling that you are sitting in a cafeteria - which I love - give me good food, setting be damned! I am perfectly content to leave the high profile interior decorators alone to woo food critics and their ilk. One slightly offsetting initial reaction was the smell. St. John smells a bit like a butcher's shop - which is befitting the neighborhood and the menu - and didn't bother me in the slightest - but one of our party mentioned it several times.

For starters our party had pickled herring, potted mallard and venison heart. All three were amazing. The pickled herring was some of the best I had ever tasted - sweet and briny, without losing any of the underlying herring flavor or texture. The potted mallard was very like a duck confit - chunks of mallard blended with what the waitress described as pork fat - and served with toast points and cornichon - outstanding. To be honest, the venison heart was the best of all. I was a little squeamish ordering it - but had faith in Fergus. The meat was very tender and served in thin slices au jus with some candied walnuts. Everyone at the table tried it and all of them - at least momentarily - suspended any doubts that had about offal.

For mains, we had tripe & chips, teal and braised cabbage and the pheasant & trotter stew. There were several other dishes we wanted to try, all of which were sold out (lamb neck, veal shin and snails/sausage/chickpeas among them). The teal was rather small and therefore rather difficult to eat, but the meat was magnificent - quite unlike any I had ever had. The flavor was clearly fowl, but the texture was like tenderloin - dense muscle with no marbling at all. The tripe and chips surprised a lot of us as well. Had we not known it was tripe, many would have easily mistaken it for some of the best fried squid they had ever tasted - moist, slightly sweet - not at all chewy - and with a very light, crispy batter.

The pheasant and trotter stew was a sight to behold - a massive bowl covered in dough, pulled straight out of the oven with a shin bone smokestack sticking out (I thought it was just whimsical presentation until I realized that the convection currents in the hot liquid actually pulled a lot of the marrow flavor into the stew - very smart). At first cut, the stew itself seemed very thin and runny (I managed to drop a piece of crust into the bowl and splash not only myself, but another of our party sitting across the table), but once you broke up the crust and floated it in the stew, the whole dish took on a thick, porridge consistency. The flavor of the marrow came through, as did the pheasant. The trotters themselves appeared in the dish as diced bits - no bones - and may actually have been smoked slightly before going into the stew (think of the fatty bits at the end of a ham hock). A very simple and very British dish - perfect for warming you up on a chilly night. We drank Bourgogne throughout the meal, which seemed to work well - nobody was in the mood for a white wine after the St. Peters and we were all a little concerned that anything with more backbone would drown out Fergus' delicate seasoning.

Unlike J. Sheekey - where dessert was a bit of a let down (though, I managed to choke it all down - and may have licked the plate), at St. John, I thought the desserts excelled. We had a sticky prune pudding and an apple cake served with jersey cream. You definitely knew which country you were in. The pudding was delightful - warm and gooey, spicy, and served with a little pitcher of whole cream to cut the sweetness. The apple cake was served warm and the jersey cream - while artery clogging - was a delightful pairing (like smothering clotted cream on a slice of warm apple tart). The bill came out to around 70 pounds per couple (45 per couple food cost) - which we all thought was a terrific bargain.

So, all-in, St. John delivered, as promised. I think too many critics (and we were guilty of this at first as well) focus on the novelty of serving "nose to tail" cuisine. We are all jaded and accustomed to restaurants that have good ratings because of their "hook," so at first glance, it is easy to assume that Fergus is doing something that is different, not necessarily better. All of those critics are wrong. While the offal is very much in your face (many of the uninitiated - myself included - will be hard pressed to decipher the menu that includes things like "bath chap," "teal," etc.) - the wait staff is very friendly and helpful and can walk you through the menu. If you still aren't a believer, there are many more pedestrian dishes on the menu as well. The bottom line is that, offal aside, Fergus is serving very fresh ingredients, of the highest quality, expertly prepared (and quintessentially British), in a no frills setting and at reasonable prices. For that alone, it would be worth a trip across the pond - leave the formal French service, renowned interior decorators, celebrities and supermodels to the Zagats crowd.