Hibiscus, former two-star centrepiece of the foodie scene in Ludlow, is now happily nestled in Mayfair, as anywhere charging ï¿¡49.50 for lunch damn well ought to be.
It feels like it’s been here for ever, it’s just that confident, relaxed and warm. There was a pre-starter of hibiscus cordial and soda with a smoked olive oil float. The smoked olive oil alone was worth the trip – a flavour at once familiar and novel (like the Fat Duck’s sardines-on-toast ice-cream or El Bulli’s paella-flavoured Rice Krispies).
Next up, deep-fried sheep’s knackers. They’re called “croquettes of lambs sweetmeats†on the menu. Two bollocks are served – as in nature – coated in the most perfectly adhering, light, golden crumb, laterally sliced and stacked ever so prettily. The delicate, unoffally flavour was beautifully matched by a tartare of chopped native oysters and sweetcorn in a dainty quenelle, and a spot of watercress.
Langoustine ravioli were equally beautifully made, but seemed almost punchy by comparison – there was a foam, and stewed sweet onion with apple and cinnamon. I wasn’t ready yet for cinnamon.
My guest wanted the suckling pig in two stages, roasted then served as a sausage roll (a supplement of ￡7.50 on the langoustines and ￡12.50 on the pig means you’re already 50p short of ￡70 a head before booze) and was rewarded with beautiful pink pig on the bone, dressed with a mussel cream that nicely underscored the depth and fragrance of the meat.
I had rose veal which had come all the way from Shropshire. That’ll learn it. You know, it was chewy. Very pink, very sweet, but chewy. I roast up a rack of rose veal from the Ginger Pig at home quite often and stand it for half an hour and it isn’t chewy.
I had asked for a sausage roll as well and it was the highlight of my meal. Rich and herby in unbelievably short, buttery pastry with a little truffle vinaigrette and a dash of the smoked oil again on a tiny tangle of leaves, it was the most perfectly focused umami-whack I’ve had in ages and the perfect foil to a formidable, almost calvadossy Barbaresco (a ￡175 bottle).
Novel
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