I’ve spent a lot of time second guessing my life choices; the good, the bad, the ugly ones that have gotten me to where I am in my life today, spending hours wondering how different things would be, had I chosen a path in life that had never sent me away from London. The choices that I made there eventually took me away from the city, to Edinburgh where I now call home. Life in Edinburgh is defined by a slowness; the city resistant to changes that would affect the cityscape they’ve spent hundreds of years crafting- leaving it looking more like a movie set than somewhere you’d live. The food scene is becoming a competition of whose tasting menu is more Scottish, more local, more seasonal, in what can only be described as increasingly uninspiring and increasingly not worth the money. This opinion is brought to the centre of my attention whenever I return to visit London, a rapidly changing city where there’s always something new, always something exciting happening. In a city with such a fast pace of evolution it’s incredible to find restaurants that stand steadfast and survive, continuously producing quality food, unbothered by food trends and whats cool in the moment. BRAT on Redchurch street in Shoreditch is one of these restaurants, and my meal there had me seriously considering whether moving back to London was the only reasonable next choice to make.
The space is dark, warm and inviting in the cold December weather. Tables crammed as closely as possible, to maximize covers, could be taken by some as a money grab, but for me it allows convivial conversations between tables to naturally occur, as dishes are dropped down and I’ve got no choice but to ask “what is that?” so I don’t miss it. This is how we ended up ordering our second round of bread, different from the puffed flatbread of the snacks section, which was baked in the wood fired oven and dosed with butter and salted anchovies- an absolute joy to eat. The second bread could only be described as colossal. The thick cut slice of white country loaf, grilled on the coals leaving a deep char, sat next to a generous pile of light whipped butter and was the perfect option for moping up the myriad of sauces that remained on the other plates.
The two starters, braised lamb ribs and a crab and radicchio salad, hit my palate with such force that I couldn’t speak to my dining partner, relying instead on a handful of groans that caused a jolt of laughter from the table next to us. The lamb ribs, shredding easily from their bone, mixing with the reduced braising liquid and mashed anchovies, created a bite that was nothing short of the best piece of meat I’ve ever eaten. The crab and radicchio salad came in a photo finish second place; the white crab meat bright and fresh, the brown crab made into a vinaigrette with orange juice and olive oil, that clung to the radicchio leaves creating a flavour that was somehow deeply savoury but also delicate. The final addition of roasted pieces of hazelnut, sprinkled causally over the top, left both of us in disbelief that salad could taste this good.
The unrelenting disbelief at the quality of the food continued into the main course, Duck Rice and a side of smoked potatoes. I’ll admit that I didn’t even know you could cook a potato by smoking it, but now that I do, you’ll probably see me outside BRAT begging one of the cooks on his break to sneak me one so I can feed my addiction. The dish is basic in its appearance, smoked fingerling potatoes, crushed slightly to expose their flesh, and then covered by a healthy ladleful of melted butter and finely chopped chives. What they lack in beauty, they more than make up for in flavour, the rich smokiness permeating the butter that I feverishly mopped up with bits of crushed potato and then bread once the potato was gone.
Being written on the menu as just “Duck Rice”, I can only assume it’s an attempt by the chefs to stop you ordering it, so they can save all of it for themselves for a post service staff meal. Served in a cast iron pot and revealed at the table with a ‘mic drop’ flourish by our server, slices of beautifully cooked duck breast sit neatly piled on a mixture of confit duck leg, grilled beets, onions, and duck liver. All of these varying flavours and textures are sitting atop a bed of short grain rice that has been baked with rich duck stock. The bottom is crisp and an exciting little treat once you get through the rest of the dish. It’s the paella I’ve always dreamed about: no frills, just unfettered flavours hitting me one after another as my brain, starting to drag from the wine, grapples with the idea that I could not reproduce this even if I wanted to.
I recently wrote some thoughts on a chef’s flagrant use of oil in the kitchen at a tasting menu I had gone to, lambasting its use in every course including the Olive Oil ice cream they had as a dessert. While I still stand by these words, we did order Olive oil ice cream at the want of my dining partner and it was nice. Having had finished such a fantastic meal I don’t think it stood up to the quality of the savory dishes, but the texture was lovely and he gave it a thumbs up.
My meal at BRAT reminded me why I love food. To confidently steer away from making things look nice for Instagram, and just focus on delivering flavour upon flavour, is in my eyes the most commendable of paths to take in the modern food world. The quality of the cooking is a step above anything I’ve eaten in a long time and I will be raving about it in person to anyone that will listen. Sobering up the next morning, as I lay in my hotel room, the realities of moving back to London became apparent and made me realize I’m probably not at that point in my life yet where a move back is the best choice for me. I will however be returning to the city to indulge in its incredible dining scene, and I will be back to BRAT to enjoy another stunning meal.