Perfil de ChiantiClassico123

READ THE BOOK, SEE THE MOVIE, GET THE T-SHIRT.

We had purchased Locatelli’s book and seen him on the TV: all that was needed was to ‘get the T-shirt’, figuratively speaking.

La contessa had been through a bit of a rough time healthwise and needed to go into London upon offical business with my accompaniment. Mindful of the L’Oréal slogan “Because you’re worth it”, aware of her gastronomic prefences and commensurate with her physical need to add a little tonnage, I somewhat exuberantly booked a lunchtime table at the Michelin-starred Locanda.

Immediately upon entry, we were warmly cosseted in the way that the more positive entries here describe. “No mobile phones please” (hence no photographs), no boringly blinged-up and screeching women, nor rumbling and boorishly-bellowing blokes; just serious diners in an elegant and pleasant environment.

We were seated and immediately got outside a glass of prosecco while studying the small print (in fact they publish their menu online daily). While contently nibbling the breadsticks that have also been mentioned otherwhere, we reflected that the bread that follows with the olive oil is also worthy of more than a mention in despatches here.

We made our decisions:

Hers: Insalata di carciofi e Parmigiano Reggiano
(Salad of raw artichokes and Parmigiano, oil and lemon)
His: Bresaola di manzo al caprino
(Cured beef with goat’s cheese dressing)

While la contessa lustfully beamed her way through the artichokes, I savoured the wonderfully fresh taste of the bresaola and longingly thought of the clear Alpine air of Courmayeur or wherever this beautiful kit had come from.

I had already made my wine selection, which was a noble Piedmontese Freisa- a very tannin-rich cousin of the Nebbiolo grape and the like of which one seldom encounters in the UK. I proposed a toast to a nice lady I know in Berlin who translated one of the proprietor’s books into German.

In between our private chitchat and discussing the food, I mischievously let my attention wander to the next table, where a monotonous bore was trying to sell a fat man some type of ‘networked solution’. I reflected upon the fact that since my days in marketing, little had changed in the basic rules of salesmanship and that this guy was doing it all wrong. La contessa gracefully accepted my comments and the fat man devoted his attention to his lunch, which did not surprise me.

We were then delighted to take delivery of her:

Linguine all’ astice
(Linguine with lobster, tomato, garlic and chilli)

and my:

Rognone di vitello, lenticchie e puré di patate
(Pan fried calf’s kidneys, mashed potato and lentils).

I have eaten kidneys in many places but have never been asked to indicate how I would like them cooked. In confusion, I replied “medium “ and so it was that the deed was done. For the first time ever, I enjoyed kidneys without their traditional hint of bodily waste fluid and cooked in a sauce that I can only describe as blissfully appealing. If I were to find fault in any way, it would be in terms of misinformation, since the “mashed potatoes” were not mashed per se but rather creamed, which was wonderful since I prefer my spuds that way.

With a purring, lobsterised contessa and equally content self, we noticed with amusement that the fat man had still not ‘risen to the bait’, but was sensibly confining his dialogue to his plate. We decided to inspect the “dolci”.

We both went for Selezione di gelati e sorbetti which sounds, looks and tastes better than ‘assortment of ice cream’. Upon asking the waiter what one of the dainty sweets served with our coffee was, he immediately packed a few of these tidbits into a small box for later consumption.

It was with a feeling of immense contentment that we eventually emerged and oozed off towards the railway station.

This place is not inexpensive when you add the wine, but it is worth it, particularly when you consider that there are so many places in Central London that claim the Earth and cost it, but do not really deliver.

LET’S PULL IN HERE

To revert to my ramblings on a recent review: “The ‘gastropub’ concept is one that baffles many in the UK, not least those who are running one. Since it can range from a middle-of-the-road licensed restaurant through to a pub that sells extremely good grub, and can also embrace all grey areas in between, I think that all proprietors should be forced to identify themselves and be ready to be judged on a points basis as in e.g. “80:20 gastropub”. At least we should know what to expect then.”

From my assessment and for my taste, the King’s Head is a healthy ‘50:50 gastropub’, which suits fine for my taste.

A very friendly and welcoming pub, it buzzes to the kind of pleasing undercurrent of warm chit-chat that makes a good pub and exudes character and charming ambience. It boasts an excellent and wide choice of food, while there is also the added benefit of a separate dining room for those who prefer that environment.

We visited in the winter, but there is a very large garden for more temperate times of the year and a further adjoining room for private events and the like (see website).

A fine choice of beers goes on to make it the kind of place you would pull into on a busy road and certainly not regret having done so.

IDENTITY CRISIS? NO WORRIES!

The ‘gastropub’ concept is one that baffles many in the UK, not least those who are running one. Since it can range from a middle-of-the-road licensed restaurant through to a pub that sells extremely good grub, and can also embrace all grey areas in between, I think that all proprietors should be forced to identify themselves and be ready to be judged on a points basis as in e.g. “80:20 gastropub”. At least we should know what to expect then.

The latter 80:20 is roughly where I would place the Golden Ball, which is situated at Pinkney’s Green outside of central Maidenhead at a rural site that is very attractive in the summer (see website).

As with many gastropubs, the ‘pub’ section is really rather polished, tidy, modern and lacking in character, and does not subliminally suggest “Pray tarry for a game of cribbage and spin us a yarn, good sir”. An ostensibly positive contribution towards the ambiance is a wood oven for those cold winter nights, but it is in need of attention either in terms of how it is operated or how it is maintained, since it divests just a tad too much smoke to be cosy.

The aformentioned attributes are also reflected in the ‘gastro’ section where they are albeit less of a nuisance because they do not deter from your drinking experience, but rather ensure that your eating experience is not affected by anything that could be deemed to be offensive or ‘not nice’ in the slightest possible way..

The website and menu are really rather cool; indeed you could say – as one does in business – that their “front office is convincing”.

Being impressionable, my gaze was drawn to: “The Golden Ball Handmade Ruby Red Beef Burger, with melted mature cheddar, crispy bacon, served with chips”. I don’t know what it weighed in at, other than £ 10.50, but travel to such exotic places as Texas has learned me that burgers don’t come out of packets, but rather require careful and loving preparation. I find that measuring the quality of burgers is a simple but useful yardstick for comparatively evaluating gastropubs, prior to venturing into the loftier pecuniary areas of their respective offerings.

It was here that the Golden Ball did not disappoint and the burger was indeed cooked to my requested specification. My wife’s choice of “Whitby Breaded Whole Tail Scampi” was perhaps less wise on balance, because I fear that the likelihood of these having leapt fresh from a packet would indeed be extremely large at any establishment in the UK. They tasted appropriately bland. As stated, the menu sounds quite exuberant, although I would question the validity of “Char-grilled Exmoor Tandoori Chicken Breast", unless it refers to chicken cooked in a tandoor and then reheated by char-grilling.

The service was cheerful enough, although our chap did tire me with his endless barrage of “No worries”. As an expression which is intended to mean anything from “Very good, sir” to “Right you are, guv’nor” it does “get on my tits”, since I am not an habitual worrier. If there is anything to worry about, then it is the establishment I am visiting that should be doing the worrying. Equally, his description of today’s “Chef’s Choice of Pate” as being “Ardine” suggested a possible lack of sector-related training (although in fairness, we should not forget Rick Stein’s pronunciation of “Chorizo”).

All in all then; a clean, pleasant and well-situated venue. Maybe a little over-priced, but flamboyant pricing can often deter those whose demographic profile is deemed to be unsuitable and the proprietors position themselves more “Daily Mail” than “Daily Mirror”. I would imagine that their Sunday luncheons are pretty damn good. The general ambience suggests that this is a place best suited to groups and families. I would say that if you hauled someone special here of an evening on speculation, then your chances of pulling might be a little marginal.

MARLOW’S LITTLE SECRET
Situated just far enough off the beaten track and discreetly behind the King’s Head, the Queen’s Head is all that it would have us believe on its website.

It nestles in a delightful green setting in Little Marlow and has a ‘sumptuously-filled’ car park (do not hide your light under a bushel, but rather discreetly park your Škoda behind a bush). Indeed, the general appearance and demeanour of those gathered inside suggests that they are comptrollers (lovely word!) of probably more than just their expense accounts.

La contessa used to frequent it during the summer together with her “ladies who lunch” friends; I had to make to do with cruising over there on a rather cold day with two charming ladies who lunch and was pleased to find it bustlingy full and with two open fires blazing away.

Unfortunately neither we – nor others – could take a seat at an appropriately large fireside table because the only free one had already been bagsied by someone who

was just there to drink and xcite the wrld wth hs txt msgs. (If he reads this then :-p to him and I hope his iPhone melted).

Friendly staff hasten to take your orders which are delivered with despatch, and there is a good range of well-kept bitters including a ‘guest ale’ that was called ‘Barmy Blonde’ or something like that. Since it was lunchtime and we are not foreigners, we decided to opt for the lighter fare, although the dinner menu certainly sounds extremely attractive (see website on the Internet). We attacked a range of sandwiches, including the ‘Open Crayfish and Marie Rose sauce’ number,

which our patrician friend enthused about (bon appetit, Pat)! The portions were large and reasonably-priced and it was not without interest that I observed a fellow guest being served a ‘Little Marlow partridge’ – not a usual dish for pub lunches.

Should you become privy to certain valuable local information, then it seems that could also stand a chance of winning £100, which sounds fair enough to me.

I expect that they want to keep their partridges where they should be, and who can blame them?

I am tempted to go there one evening, as both dinner menu and wine list also sound promising.

A strong recommendation. Finding a decent urban pub is difficult and the rural ones are usually so much better; this one is definitely high-end.

Seit einigen Jahren pflege ich eine partnerschaftliche Zusammenarbeit mit der Firma Hansson Übersetzungen GmbH, die sich durch ausgezeichneten Service, Termintreue, günstiges Preisverhältnis und die hochqualitative Erbringung von sprachlichen Dienstleistungen auszeichnet.

Geschäftsführer Erik Hansson verfügt über ein ungewöhnlich breites Netzwerk weit über die Grenzen von Deutschland hinweg und gilt daher auch in mehreren internationalen Fachkreisen als verläßlicher und angesehener Branchenkenner.