I have a crush on a restaurant I’ve never been to.
It’s the lore of the restaurant that gets me. The restaurant I’m talking about is one I mentioned in my last post, and their cookbook I’m eagerly waiting to get my hands on.
So before I start talking more in-depth about my crush. I wanted to mention some differences between London, Paris, or, where I live, Berlin, and the changing definition of fine dining.
If I Google ‘Legendary Berlin Restaurants’ the results are kinda — meh. One fine dining establishment under the name of Facil which has two Michelin stars under its belt, is here in Berlin. The pictures on their internet site make me wonder if their plating style and food are still relevant, or if people get uncomfortable looking at it, as I do. The plating is a visual representation of trying too hard, I’ve seen worst, but this is pretty bad.
Their dessert looks so overworked and pompous that I think I would rather run around in a freezing forest naked than have to suffer looking at that plated dessert. Well no I’m exaggerating, maybe the dessert is borderline acceptable, but the scallop meal looks like a Museum of Modern Art piece from the 1980’s, the samphires growing out of the mayonnaise-like sauce sitting in front of an algae that is forced to behave like a deformed Flamin’ Hot Cheeto. The shampoo, foam-like emulsion, or espuma, and the whole molecular gastronomy thing seem only to be allowed by El Bulli (which is now a museum) and are very outdated to me.
Surely there are restaurants like this that are still in effect in Paris, London, or wherever, but with restaurants, it almost replicates Charles Darwin's ethos of “Adapt or Die.” The food scene changes so fast, and they change according to country, culture, climate, and everything in between, and that is beautiful, but they cannot stay constant. Or else your restaurant goes into the red and fades away into the abyss of failed and forgotten restaurants.
I feel most popular restaurants want to become rock stars, and I blame the constant digital exposure of social media and the impressions derived from it. The essence or story of their dishes becomes forced to be more ‘Instagrammable’, or ‘share-worthy’ instead of focusing on flavor, interest, or inspiration. Remember when taking pictures of your meal was frowned upon, it seems now is the norm, and for that restaurant, it means exposure and free advertisement. Are small-time producers and seasonality too much to ask for? To me, that is what I call fine dining — the simple things made with great care and passion. I’ll pay for that instead of a plated meal from a chef on acid.
That being said, if I go to the extreme of not only trying the food, but working for a handful of these restaurants that I would be willing to uproot my family and move to, to be able to work for. Even if I have a cozy job, the challenge speaks to me but going back to the kitchen is another story...
Here I am to spread the gospel of St. John, a London foundation and one of Britain’s most important restaurants. They are famous, but not overbearingly so. They are old-school, but not relics. They are a classic foundation, but not one that doesn’t stick with the times. They spearheaded a word that could be scoffed at today — nose-to-tail. They have the alumni to prove working there turns you into a super chef.
So what did they serve to become a pioneer of nose-to-tail restaurants?
Offal.
The stuff you would think nobody really wants today. They serve offal so well, that they received a Michelin star for it in 2009 and that star is still shining. The restaurant was founded in 1994 and is still relevant. Almost 30 years and they are still rocking today, that is an amazing feat for any restaurant. Usually, restaurants are in constant flux, chefs coming and going, the hype strong and lasting until it is no more just like the possible food trends that control the minds of chefs like a curse.
St. John’s owners, Ferguson and Trevor seemed to keep their heads down and focus on the simple things. They avoid “vision” and keep their restaurant decor simplistic, they don’t do music, art, garnishes, flowers, or service charges. Any charge is given to the staff, in turn, the staff receives respect, a proper staff meal, and, a proper break. Unheard of still today.
Their beginnings used very humble dishes to carry them upwards to popularity, such as pig’s ears with sorrel and chicory, tripe and onion, and bone marrow with toast. Simple, hearty, and daunting.
“[Fergus] Henderson's menu was wild, outlandish, spectacular (spectacularly awful, the more faint-hearted would say): pig's ears with sorrel and chicory, blood cakes with fried eggs, tripe and onion, those notorious bones. No seared salmon, no chicken, no crowd-pleasing side orders. This was resolute, timeless cooking: good, seasonal and served with a certain amount of solemnity by helpful people in long, white aprons.” - The Guardian article from 2014 by Rachel Cooke.
Take a look for yourself at the simplicity of their menus, three restaurants of theirs to peruse and they have no such thing as a set menu, it changes daily. Constant change and creativity with the food that comes out of their kitchens. That is a beautiful and refreshing rarity in hospitality.
Once Ferguson was diagnosed with Parkinson’s Disease he slowed his roll with the cooking. He put his trust in his staff with his ever-thoughtful presence. To Trevor and Ferguson, the staff were just as important as the food. So much so, Thomas Blythe their former maitre d’ stayed with them for 15 years. Loyalty, praise, and respect are all things that you never hear in the restaurant world, especially from the owners.
The numerous chefs, waiters, butchers, bakers, and plenty of people who spent their years at St. John have said this was the best place they have worked at. St. John’s has given them a sort of culinary uprising to their passionate careers and gave them the chance to grow famous and respectable in their own right and in their own corner of the world.
Kitchen masochism? Goodbye and farewell!
“When we opened St John we were accused of being 400 years out of date. That gave us a freedom – if you are never fashionable, you are never going to be out of fashion. That’s why I hate the idea of food ‘trends’. The idea of trends in food is tragic – by their very nature they are impermanent, elevating bad foods where they don’t deserve it or consigning good foods to history. Good food should be permanent.” — Fergus Henderson
Yeah, I’m ready to make a pilgrimage to St.John’s and book a table. Try it all, and knowing myself, I would walk up to the pass and ask for a job.
Pidgeon and peas-ly yours,
The Greasy Pen.