MODERNIST Cuisine. It's the stuff that Heston Blumenthal cooks. Hugely complicated, very expensive to produce as well as being difficult. The point is to delight and surprise the diner, raise a wry smile every now and again. To tease and seduce, to make us remember a meal or a dish for the rest of our lives.
The first one Gordo didn't get. The second was intense beetroot. And the third was intense green. And smelled of fart. Bad fart. Gordo forced himself to bite it in half.
Very few are masters of this art. Gordo can report on no more than five who have, in his opinion, succeeded.
Blumenthal is one. Any chef worth his salt would study what he does, how he does it, along with how he presents it. The first thing Gordo noticed when reading his cook book on The Fat Duck menu, is how few dishes there are in the repertoire. He launched the infamous snail porridge in 2003; it has been part of the menu, on and off, for ten years.
Little has changed; it is a supremely beautiful dish, which builds on the flavours layer by layer, totally catching the diner off guard with the simplicity that he shows with a complex construction. There are no less than 52 separate ingredients in that dish. And they are there for one thing; supporting the main chance flavours; fennel, the snails, parsley and ham. It tastes of pond. In a glorious way.
Etrop GrangeThe main point here is these menus change infrequently; dishes are worked on for months until it enters the dining room. This cuisine is near impossible to cook 'on the fly'. Some can make it appear that they are managing this, Noma, the worlds number one in Copenhagen makes it appear they are, but the reality is the chef has the same repertoires but changes the main ingredients regularly whilst keeping the same suit wrapped around them.
When this cooking works, it's a delight, even though Gordo would prefer, at the end of the day, a dish of pink lamb, chips with crispy fat, and Michel Guerard's dauphinoise. It's beautiful but also it’s something the diner can match with a good red burgundy. It's bloody impossible to match a decent wine to Modernist Cuisine.
When this cuisine goes wrong, it goes wrong spectacularly. And, dear reader, this is what happened last week to Gordo and his wingman, Ruth Allan, at a hotel called Etrop Grange, which is just near Manchester Airport.
For ten days Gordo has been agonising about what to say about this meal. Mainly because he recognises in this chef someone who is a supreme technician, along with being a delightful person. His name is Ernst Van Zyl and he is the head chef, delivering two different menus. One is cooking a grill-style menu that, apparently, boxes well above its weight. On the evening Gordo watched the next table devour superb looking steaks with chips that really needed tying to the plates, like little helium balloons. They looked so light and crisp.
Gordo was here to try out Ernst's 'Chefs Dinner Menu'. Ernst has spent time in some serious kitchens, including Blumenthal’s, Simon Rogan's and the aforementioned Noma. He is serious about improving himself. Very.
Venison Carpaccio
His 'Chefs Dinner Menu' looks the part. Gordo booked under an assumed name, having been asked several times by several people to come and try the food. He wanted to give Ernst no opportunity to change what he was doing for him.
The room was warm, inviting and comfortable. Country house, anything but Media City. A bit kitsch, a bit like Gordo it could be said.
There is a vegetarian tasting menu at £40. Not for Gordo. Looked good mind you.
Bread arrived, sour dough. Stunning. Soft in the middle, crunchy casing with loads of testosterone about it. Great butter, sea salt on the side. Liking this folks.
For starters, Hay Smoked Venison Tartar with Capers, Douglas Fir and Shallot, (£9.50) and Ray Wing with Ox Tongue, Celery and Pomegranate (£8).
The presentation looked schizophrenic. The ray was cut into small strips, interleaved with ox tongue. Both ingredients hated each other, passionately.
Dotted around were small squeezes of stuff, most of which were at war with each other. The venison tartar tasted 'off'. It wasn't, it was just that Ernst had buggered around with it so much that at first taste Gordo could swear coffee granules and dark chocolate had been used in the mix. It probably hadn't, but whatever this dish was meant to be, it wasn't. Technically it was perfect. Apart from how it tasted.
Mutton
Mallard, Roasted Breast, Wild Mushrooms, Parsnip and Blood orange (£17 - main picture) was good; the mallard had been roasted pink, it tasted as it should; the ingredients worked well with it, great wild mushrooms here.
Mutton, BBQ Loin, Salsify, Carrot, Rekordelig (£18) was completely overpowered during a smoking procedure that enveloped the plate like a damp dog basket.
Desserts were fine. But by this time both Ruth and Gordo were overtaken by the disaster that went before. There was one more to come.
Coffee came with petit fours - four cubes of what looked like jelly. The head waiter told the intrepid duo they might find the broccoli one "a challenge".
"Eh?" thought Gordo, "Broccoli"?
The first one Gordo didn't get. The second was intense beetroot. And the third was intense green. And smelled of fart. Bad fart. Gordo forced himself to bite it in half.
Challenging? Fucking Challenging? That Maitre'd had it all wrong. It was simply the most awful thing Gordo has ever had. It turned his stomach, making him gag.
Now Ernst has this written on the back of his menu.
'In my cooking there is an obsession to harmonise; to excite; to balance; to perfect and not overdo.'
Lemon Tart
Oh dear Lord, in this chef's cooking, on the evidence of this meal, there is a clash of flavours and textures; far from exciting either diners, it actually disturbed us. It was far away from perfect and compellingly overdone.
Ernst, apart from being delightful, needs to take a step back and rethink what he is doing completely. Everything needs to be on the plate for a purpose. To support the main ingredient, as said before. Currently, he reminds Gordo of an autistic genius who needs to become calm. Because if you deconstructed the plates, you will see that genius.
Ernst needs a little bit of self-deprecation. He needs to learn from the diners and not preach at them. Less is more. Ernst told Gordo he is on a mission to educate us, the public.
Petit Fours
That broccoli held no education. It was a stupid thing to serve, at the wrong time and the wrong place. It was simply horrible.
Gordo will return in the next three months. He sincerely hopes Ernst takes the criticism in the right way. False praise is harmful. Constructive criticism is good.
Gordo thinks you, dear reader, should go. Because sooner rather than later, Ernst will get it. You may bear witness to the birth of a great chef. But, in the meantime, stick to the steak and chips.
You can follow Gordo on Twitter @GordoManchester
ALL SCORED CONFIDENTIAL REVIEWS ARE IMPARTIAL AND PAID FOR BY THE MAGAZINE.
Etrop Grange Hotel, Manchester Airport, Thorley Lane, Manchester. 0161 499 0500.
Rating: 12/20 (Remember venues are rated against the best examples of their kind so check out the box below)
Food: 4.5/10 (sour dough bread 10/10, ray wing 3/10, venison 1/10, mutton 2/10, mallard 7/10, lemon curd 8/10, pear poached 6/10, petit fours 0/10)
Service: 3.5/5
Ambience: 4/5
