Reviews

Sing Hallelujah for Food so Good

When I was a teenager I was fascinated by those eye-tricking images that can be either a beautiful lady or a crone. The Pump House has one for its logo. Is it an elegant chalice or two, pointy nosed people about to kiss? For a few seconds I was thrown into visual disarray trying to decide which one to go for as they switched effortlessly between the two. Goggle-eyed I put the whole thing to one side, re-centred my brain and focused on the menu.

What a delicious spread came into view. Thai dressed duck swam alongside Lindisfarne oysters. Risotto or rack of lamb? The choices flooded in, we settled on ours and sat back to enjoy a soothing ripple of wine with succulent olives. This was pampering of the first order.

A jolly group of red braced, pinstripe sorts were winding down their day and three couples were winding up into theirs. Bottles and glasses came and went and I was dismayed to see one of the women with a glass of coke. I'm not a food snob but how can sugar-laden pop go with grown-up food? It just doesn't! Looking away, I concentrated on the pretty sight before me, my Chicken and leek terrine with cashew and onion compote. The meaty terrine had a double barrel of softened leek with a scoop of nutty savoury compote. A few frills of lightly dressed salad leaves made this a delightful trio of textures and flavours. My companion's Gnocchi, forest mushrooms and rosemary was another wonderful treat. The tiny little dumplings were immersed in a delicately seasoned, herby stock with earthy mushrooms and a top dressing of greenery for good measure. This was exceptionally good food and we could hardly wait to see what was coming next.

Oh joy! My Turbot steak, the deliciously pale flesh flaking in meaty slices, gently covered a bed of crinkly Savoy cabbage and pale pink smoked salmon. The creamy sauce dotted with mini-islands of potato was finely balanced to produce richness without overwhelming the fish. Superb! My companion's Chicken fillet came confit-style and fell away in feather-soft drifts into the sage and lemon sauce. Interlaced fingers of sweet potato wedges and soft furls of winter greens made this a heavenly combination. The wonderful plate design also delivered on flavour and the panel awarded chef Anthony Heath full marks.

Desserts produced another round of flawless food with, for me, an imaginative Strawberry and black pepper brulée with a buttery almond shortbread. The crackling sugar top broke to reveal a soft, summer fruit custard spiked with black pepper that had my taste buds dancing. My companion's Poached pears, balsamic reduction and lime sorbet was a masterpiece. Poached in mulled wine spices, the spoon soft conference pear stood proudly alongside its golden mini-me. The expertly balanced reduction, sweetened just enough to remove its acid edge, trailed between the fruit and a globe of citrus sorbet in a dark chocolate cup. It looked and tasted fabulous.

When food is this good my heart sings the Hallelujah Chorus. The very best of modern British cuisine with an extra dash of inspiration. My jaw dropped when I saw the price. How can food this good cost only £75.75?

- The Journal, February 2007

 

 

Be Spoilt for Choice

This time of year, as the days imperceptibly lengthen and the thermometer starts to creep back up into double figures, there is an air of quiet hopefulness.

I’m an optimistic sort of chap, tending to see the silver lining before the cloud. This position can be irritating for the Eeyores of the world but, my motto is “Let them keep the clouds, I’m happy where I am” and that was definitely the case the evening we went to The Pumphouse at Houghall, Durham.

The only clouds then were fluffy, moonlit ones, puffing gently across a starry sky as we walked across the pine-fringed car park to the welcoming glow of the restaurant. Peeping through the windows, I was surprised to see all the tables, bar one, occupied. It looked like the party had been in full swing for some time, as some people were already tucking into desserts.

At 7.15 pm I thought we were early birds, but it seems you have to get out before the six o’clock news if you want a table here on a Friday evening.The staff were zipping about but had time to greet, take coats, point at the table, ask for drinks order and promise menus before zipping off again.

Seconds later the menus and wine list arrived and we settled to the business of choosing.

You may not realise this but I try very hard to order different dishes so you and I, dear reader, get some variety. The problem this evening was that I had forgotten to read the last few reviews and was struggling to recall exactly what I’d had.However, one glance at the diversity of dishes on the menu was enough to reassure me that there was little risk of recent history repeating itself this evening.The dilemma was which ones to have. Mussels with chorizo and tomato? Oysters? Roast baby quail? Spoilt for choice. I haven’t had scallops for a long time but the pressed terrine of chicken, confit duck, mushrooms, smoked Parma ham, spiced peach chutney and dressed leaves won my heart.

My companion was beguiled by the allure of the warm pear and Roquefort tart with rocket and Parmesan salad and avocado oil, and who can blame her? A glass of perfectly chilled Chenin blanc from the South Africa Stellenbosch vineyard helped us settle in.

Ignoring the soapy black olives and focusing on the crunchy bread, we dillied and dallied until our starters arrived. The cabaret of a restaurant is always entertaining. The fabulously theatrical setting of this one added to the pleasure of people watching. Huge chinks of mellowed sandstone rise majestically, arching beamwards to a crimson ceiling from which dangle two wonderfully intricate chandelier affairs. Cups of light spill over snowy table linen and sparkling silverware. It fair takes your breath away.

The starters had much to compete with and, sadly, mine didn’t come up to scratch. The pale chicken, wrapped in paper thin ham had the taste and texture of a nugget - not the mineral sort. The promised flavours from the chutney was not kept and the second opinion supported my view that this was a character actor without character.
Hers, on the other hand, was a triumph. A gently roasted pear, glazed with blue-speckled cheese, fanned across a crisp pastry shell. The chef had got the balance just right. The buttery pastry and salty cheese were kept in check by the sweet pear. The salad added crunch to make this a complete success. I had a consolatory glass of the Stellenbosch and moved on.

This time we both had five star dishes. Mine came in the form of Duck breast, cinnamon spiced cabbage, Fondant potato with cranberry and port reduction. It was fabulous. The duck was pink perfect with crispy skin and soft fat. The cabbage recipe, combining glossy burgundy slices with cinnamon and star anise created a sophisticated escort to the meat and rich foil to the smooth potato. Redcurrants dotted the port wine sauce and everything rolled along happily together and into history. My companion’s stars appeared in her Monkfish stuffed with asparagus and crab, wrapped in Parma ham, garlic thyme crushed potatoes, tomato and red pepper dressing.

It took as long for me to write it out as it did for her to eat. Medallions of lightly wrapped fish curled around a feathery crab filling. Tender, blanched asparagus spears lay criss-crossed to one side. A Generous serving of crushed, herby potato kept them company with the tomato-capsicum duo.

We were two very happy people as we headed for dessert.

Rum and raisin cheesecake with raspberry coulis for her and praline chocolate tart with Chantilly cream and white chocolate sauce for me. There was a touch of tactics in her choice because, unlike her, I am not a fan of the R & R combo. The heart shaped creamy mix, studded with tiny fruits, was delicious but the rum was a suggestion rather than a reality. The biscuit base gingered things up a little and she was happy.

My tart had crude blobs of white chocolate sauce trailed across it, but the deep delight of super-rich chocolate and hazelnut that lay beneath were the real attractions. A masterful delivery from the patisserie chef.On the way home, after settling the bill of £77.50, the chauffeuse put a Billie Holiday CD on. I haven’t listened to her for some time and the warm glow of the food, wine and general bonhomie led, inevitably, to some bon reves.

- The Journal, March 2006