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‏إظهار الرسائل ذات التسميات Newington Green. إظهار كافة الرسائل
‏إظهار الرسائل ذات التسميات Newington Green. إظهار كافة الرسائل

Perilla, Newington Green


If this endless Game of Thrones winter is getting you down and you pine for the long, hazy days of summer then spare a thought for the food bloggers amongst us, and this one in particular, who last took an evening photo of something even vaguely recognisable as food some time back in about September 2017. You can blame my rubbish camera skills if you like (plenty do), but surely some responsibility lies with restaurants whose lighting schemes range from "romantic" to "Dans le Noir" and in which not only is photography impossible but even figuring out what you're eating is a bit of a challenge.


But as April rolls on, the evenings get lighter and the chances of my photos not looking like evidence from a crime scene, and diners being able to fully appreciate the effort that goes into the presentation of their food, increases exponentially. We had a good hour or two at Perilla, light streaming through the huge floor-to-ceiling windows into that beautiful dining room, when my photos did something approaching justice to the extraordinary quality of food served there. Then some time about 7pm the sun went down and it all went to pot again. But hopefully you'll have got the gist by that point.


The bank holiday weekend started, as I always try to ensure they do, with a martini. Icy cold, served in freeze-frosted glass and costing an eminently reasonable £9, it was the perfect introduction to the way they do things at Perilla - tasteful, elegant, and with an absolute confidence that this is the best way of doing things. Which, of course, it is. Anyone serving martinis in glasses quick-chilled with crushed ice are missing a vital stage in the process.


As for the food, well, it's mostly brilliant, or rather apart from one minor misstep it was all brilliant, but more on that later. First we have "Yesterday's bread soaked in fish soup", which as well as being something I was determined to order as soon as I spotted it on the menu, presumably helps Perilla's green waste-free credentials into the bargain. Neat fingers of sourdough dotted with orange and pine nuts came soaked in the most unbelievably intense liquid - in fact closer in style and substance to a seafood bisque, the kind of thing restaurants charging many times the prices at Perilla would be very proud of.


These are rump of beef on laverbread, half Sunday roast half seafood nigiri, a clever combination of flavours and textures quite unlike anything I'd tried before. Part of the joy of eating somewhere like Perilla is to have your expectations exceeded, but to start with two "snacks" that so completely took me by surprise is something else entirely.


To prove that the triumphal first course was no fluke, another soup was every bit as spectacular. Served in a large hollowed-out white onion, the outside charred from close contact with the coals and with a heady smoked aroma, it contained a silky-smooth, light broth of creamed onion studded with delicately toasted hazelnuts, and is absolutely everything I want a soup to be. This dish alone is worth a meal at Perilla.


"Squid Bolognese" has apparently become somewhat of a signature dish on Newington Green, and you can see why - it's a very clever thing, colourful shoreside succulents (shoots of monksbeard taking the place of spaghetti) and winter herbs are topped with minced cuttlefish, producing a wonderful light seafood salad.


Sometime between the Squid Bolognese and the next dish of calves' liver, the sun dropped down over the horizon, and so I'm afraid from this point on you'll have to use your imagination, and take my word for it, that only the lighting levels decreased, not the care and attention taken in presentation. This neatly folded parcel of cabbage leaf opened to reveal discs of potato chips, fried onions and yes, generous slices of liver cooked to a delightful medium-rare.


Given the technical skill, invention and risk-taking on display up to this point of the meal, Perilla could probably have served something genuinely inedible and I'd still be happy to recommend the place. "Baron Bigod stuffed with braised pine nuts" wasn't a complete disaster, it was just a nice enough cheese pointlessly stuffed with nuts, which neither enhanced the cheese or made you particularly excited about the idea of eating nuts. Still, you never know if you don't try.


Dessert was a herb and honey creme caramel, again showing a willingness to play with accepted notions of savoury and sweet but backing it all up with a proper technical ability where it counts. There's something faintly "healthy-foody" about honey and herbs on their own, but topping a nice rich, creamy custard with it made all the sense in the world.


So yes, as you may have gathered, I had an absolute riot of a time at Perilla. To serve an enjoyable, competently cooked meal seems to be the very least restaurants are able to get away with in these troubled times, though of course if that was your level of expectation you'd certainly come away giddy. On every inch of the menu, though, the kitchen seems to go out of their way to surprise and impress, often thorough spectacular presentations to inventive flavour combinations, such as the fish soup or beef and laverbread, but also just through presenting familar flavours and concepts incredibly well (liver and onions).

Everyone, at least everyone I know, will enjoy a meal at Perilla, but perhaps that's not news - they've been around two and a half years now and judging by the crowds on a weekday evening (as I'm reliably informed by a friend who lives just over the road) word has most certainly got out. But whatever they originally set out to achieve in this pretty corner of North London, Perilla is far more than just a good local restaurant - in serving one of London's most exciting sub-£50 tasting menus they should be nothing less than a destination, and deserve to be spoken about in amongst the very best the city has to offer. Didn't see that coming? No, me neither. And I can't blame the low lighting for that.

9/10

I was invited to Perilla and didn't see a bill, though I imagine it would have been about £70/head once booze and service is factored in.
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The Lady Mildmay, Newington Green


Leaping around from one astonishingly brilliant new restaurant to the next, as I'm lucky enough to do as a food blogger, it's easy to lose sight of the fact that actually, London isn't just stuffed to the brim with great restaurants at every conceivable price point. True, we've made huge leaps forward in the quality, number and variety of places to eat in the ten-and-a-bit years I've been writing this blog, but the continued existence (and, *shudder*, growth) of places like Frankie & Benny's or JRC Global Buffet on our nation's high streets is just something that isn't going to change any time soon.

And maybe it doesn't have to. Yes, the residents of Madrid or San Sebastian can point to the fact that you can just duck into the nearest tapas joint and be pretty certain of a decent feed, but what about if you want a pho, or a hot pot, or an egg hopper? I used to get annoyed about the depressing success of awful lowest-common-denominator chain restaurants but perhaps they're nothing more than the price we have to pay for the incredible variety and innovation going on elsewhere.


Also, I can't help noticing that even aside from the usual places that get all the attention, there has been a noticeable improvement in the "average" (I don't mean that to sound disparaging but I suppose it is a bit) local restaurant or pub. Time was, a Sunday roast from anywhere that wasn't a notable gastropub or steakhouse would be a fairly uninspiring combination of boiled veg, packet gravy and overcooked beef, but a more discerning population means everyone's local has to up their Sunday game.


So to the Lady Mildmay in Newington Green, chosen for a friend's birthday lunch and - it's fair to say - not really on the radar of insufferable London food scenesters like me. And OK, it's not the Drapers, it's not Quality Chop, it's not even Blacklock who do an insanely great Sunday roast for £20 and has people falling over themselves for a table. But what it is is a very decent, generously portioned lunch for not a huge amount of money, in a lovely old Victorian pub in a very pretty part of London and I enjoyed it rather a lot.


Best of the roasts we tried was beef rump cap, pink and tender and served with a nice rich gravy. The Yorkshire pud had (I think) been made a little while in the past, and was doing a passable impression of a pud-shaped water biscuit, but it still wasn't horrible. Also say what you like about kale, but those frilly leaves really carry the gravy, and I'd much rather they were on the plate than not.


Cod and mash with leeks and parsley was so old school it could have come from a different century, but was actually cooked very well, with a nice crisp skin and good, defined, bright white flakes of fish. The butter content of the mash could have done with learning something from the French, but this was a minor point. Also, look at the amount of it - plenty for your £15.


Lamb was probably the most disappointing of the roasts, but even that wasn't too bad. I don't like the "pulled" shoulder presentation that seems to have gone around the city lately, and the gravy seemed thinner and less full of flavour than the beef's - the lamb itself was lovely and tender though. There was also chicken (or rather stuffed poussin), which I didn't try, but which seemed to go down well with those that ordered it. Oh, and a really decent cheese course, and some desserts which I completely forgot to take photos of, probably because we were chain-drinking bottles of red and more interested in enjoying ourselves than recording the moment.


Which is what Sundays should be about really - holing up in a handsome Victorian pub in North London while the snow falls outside, getting slowly but surely pissed on Languedoc and delaying the journey home until the Uber surge ends. Professional (ha!) detachment requires I mark our meal based on the objective quality of the meal, and so I will. But as afternoons go, I doubt I've had more fun in months, and I'm almost certain to be back. And in the end, there's hardly any greater compliment than that.

7/10
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