Much more to this town called malice
I consider myself a fairly travelled fellow.
Having ventured across most of the world’s
continents at some point or another, I’m pleased to boast membership to the
often-tedious group of humans.
Those who begin an exceptional amount of
anecdotes with the phrase “well, when I was traveling…”
However, there is a considerable gap in my
knowledge - rather closer to home. The North.
Just three weeks ago I sampled the delights
of Newcastle for the first time, and now I, a staunch southerner, took my life
in my Kentish hands and ventured back across the Watford Gap to the wintery
climes of Liverpool.
With the jokes revolving around factories
and cloth caps smacked smartly out of my mouth following my trip to Tyneside, I
looked forward to what the former European Capital of Culture had to offer.
It started with a rite of passage on a
Virgin train from London, where two Scouse fellas entered into a scuffle over
use of the complimentary plug to charge their mobile phones. Yes, one was
sporting a moustache and light perm, while the other wore a shell suit jacket.
Fortunately, that was the first and last
stereotype I encountered.
Beautiful buildings, modern art and a
plethora of retail, culinary and business activity greeted me - as did a chum
who has made Liverpool his home for almost a decade since his decision to move
north in search of the world’s finest gravy and chips (that’s it for the
northern jokes now).
Having spent the day interviewing and
tasting southern soul food at the new What’s at 62? restaurant in Castle
Street, my chum suggested something a little lighter, so we headed for small
plates at the Salt House Charcuteria & Tapas Bar.
On the knuckle of Hannover Street stands
the expansive building, but packed full of tables in every straight and corner
– whether that’s in homage to the cosy back alley inlets of San Sebastian or
just to increase cover potential, I don’t know - but it lends to a lively,
buzzy atmosphere.
It has the open counter/theatre kitchen
with dried meats hanging on display. It also has imported Spanish beers, wines
and sangria. Our waitress suggested that between six and eight dishes would be
enough to fill two growing (in weight) lads and the diplomatic decision of
three choices each was reached. And then my chum ordered a fourth because he is
a bit bigger than me.
But unfortunately, there was a real swing
between the poor and excellent in our ordered dishes,
The boring Malaga fried fish featuring fried
calamari, prawns and hake (£5.95) was okay but nothing to write home (or a blog)
about. The batter tended to over power any real chance of tasting the fish
encased inside. It reminded me of fried whitebait that you used to get from
old-fashioned sea front stalls.
However, we also took on the exquisite
pan-fried padron peppers (£4.95). Bursting with juices and spicy energy, with a
sprinkling of salt to get the taste buds whirring. Beautiful.
Next came tiny langoustines with fennel and
chilli risotto (£7.95). There was no
real kick with the risotto spice and the pre-peeled langoustines were nothing
if not malnourished.
Then we headed back into the plus points
again with two fried chicken and chorizo sliders (£5.95). Beautifully crafted
and seasoned with emmental cheese and pickles.
They may sound a bit KFC-esque, but they
were light, tasty and right on the money in size - and they would make a really nice,
stand-alone dish at any restaurant.
The tomato bread, which was supposed to be
toasted, was soggy (£2.95) but despite its moist state was till pretty flavoursome.
Our order of the Iberico ham croquettes, a
tapas staple, was good (£5.50) but not memorable.
The late-comer was cauliflower tempura with
piquillo pepper hummus, pomegranate and coriander (£4.95). Again a really nice
dish which outshone some of its counterparts. The light tempura was not greasy
and the pomegranate tang with spicy hummus was noteworthy.
There were other beautiful sounding dishes
on the menu in the charcuterie section, and perhaps we ordered wrongly as a lot
of the main dishes seemed to be fried.
The service staff we encountered were young
but helpful but unlike a traditional tapas restaurant, everything seemed a bit
rushed – hinting at the latter of the two table squeezing objectives I
mentioned earlier.
It was pleasant enough without being impressive.
It was all a little middle of the road, some good bits, some bad bits.
Would I go back? Probably not.
For another Tapas restaurant review click here - Williams & Brown Tapas, Whitstable
