Continued from Part 1....
The Restaurant, the Angel at Hetton
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| North Yorkshire |
He has ambitious plans for the Angel, the big first step, winning a Michelin star, being achieved in October 2019. He describes his style as casual and contemporary and his food as being modern, technical
and meaningful which he explains as every element brings flavour
or texture, enticing diners to experience new combinations and ingredients.
(Phrases in italics come from angelhetton,co,uk.)
I am bemused by the repeated use of the word ‘casual’ on the website. There is nothing casual about the way Michael Wigmore designs, cooks and presents each dish. Lynne and I do not eat casually, we take small
flavour-packed mouthfuls and taste, discuss and savour. There is nothing casual
about the large, well-trained waiting staff who glide purposefully between the
tables. But, when we need to talk to them, the conversation is informal. No one
wants or expects obsequious Victorian servants, or supercilious butlers. Perhaps
the word they wanted was informal rather than casual.
Our Dinner
The Angel offers a choice of five or seven course tasting menus. Twenty years ago we might have chosen seven, but even with tiny courses that is now too much, so we went for five.
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| The Angel menu |
Numerate readers will observe that the 5-course menu has nine courses. The Wagyu and Cheese, options we eschewed, are the missing courses from the 7-course menu,
allowing an upgrade, should the diner feel peckish. Bread is never considered
a ‘course’ and Snacks are what more formal/less casual menus would call
canapés, so not a course either.
Snacks
Baron Bigod is a Brie-like cheese made on the Suffolk/Norfolk boundary. I know no finer cheese and I have written about it in both Suffolk and
Norfolk. A bonus point for top quality ingredients but sadly turning Baron
Bigod into a mousse dimmed its unique subtleties. The tuile was clever, but
the Alsace bacon perched on it rather overwhelmed the mousse.
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| Baron Bigod mousse and tuiles |
Parfait. A chicken liver parfait in a boat of puffed
rice, was as soft and lovely as a parfait gets.
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| Chicken Liver Parfait |
Chawanmushi. The first of several Japanese touches. Lynne
and I have been privileged to eat our way over the last two decades from
Malacca up through every country in mainland East Asia to Beijing in the North.
Sadly, we have never visited Japan, and as Japanese flavours are becoming ever
more popular, I am playing catch-up. Chawanmushi is a custard made from dashi,
sake and eggs. This was a lovely little pot of a totally new flavours. I really
enjoyed it.
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| Chawanmushi |
The snacks accompanied our pre-dinner G&T where we
were introduced to the Hooting Owl Distillery
in York. Among their many products are four gins named for the four corners of the
county. I had West Yorkshire, with all the cumin and turmeric of a Bradford
curry, Lynne had South Yorkshire, based on liquorice and enough mint and
rosemary to grace a Barnsley chop. We live in an age when artisan gin distilleries
hide round every corner and behind every bush. Even the finest distilleries must
struggle for exposure amid a tsunami of mediocrity. Hooting Owl should surf that
tsunami; gin does not get any better than this.
Tomato
Textures of tomato, the subheading says, and here are tomatoes, some normal, some with skin off, some semi dried. Ricotta and basil
are mentioned and clearly visible – they are welcome as old friends, of the
tomato. XO, so as far as I know, is a Chinese sauce involving dried scallops
and shrimps, Jinhua ham, garlic chilli and shallots. I did not recognise it here.
There is seaweed, a Wigmore trademark, and I thought the waiter mentioned a
white Japanese tomato with yuzu. I ate a tomato that seemed to be struggling awkwardly
with citrus but I thought it was red.
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| Tomatoes, The Angel at Hetton |
Lynne liked the elements, but could not see how they
came together, I was just a little confused. What a shame we started with what we thought was by far the weakest course.
Wine. Etna Rosato, Pietradolce.
The sommelier was a bright and cheerful young woman, who took on the impossible task of finding a wine to compliment a dish of tomatoes
with apparent enthusiasm. Michele Faro’s 11ha vineyard is on the side of Mt Etna 700+m up the mountain. He uses the local Nerello Mascalase grape and some of his vines have been producing for 120 years. His rosato is exceptional. Minerality and acidity come from the volcanic soil, while the vines generate a range of fruit flavours, with strawberry dominating. We could not find the redcurrant and cranberry mentioned by the sommelier, but we did find an orangey citrus note. I enjoy a good, dry rosé, and this was a very good dry rosé indeed.
Bread
Bread is never counted as a course but there comes a point
in all such meals when somebody comes along and plonks down a basket of high-quality
bread at a moment when you really have no use for it. Michael Wigmore , however, makes
a laudable attempt to make sense of this interlude. Hokkaido milk bread is a
light, fluffy bread in a shape suitable for tearing and sharing. With it came Ampersand
butter, a traditionally made, batch churned cultured butter produced near
Banbury, and a couple of dips. Colonnata lardo is a speciality of
the Tuscan village of Colonnata. It is pork fatback cured for 6 months with
layers of sea salt, garlic, rosemary, sage, pepper, and other local
herbs/spices. Semi-liquid bacon is my best attempt at a description. The other
dip was the rather more familiar taramasalata.
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| Bread, The Angel at Hetton |
Not Wine. Poiré Granite, Eric Bordelet, Normandy
Our sommelier’s pick for this was not a wine but a sparkling poiré, or perry, in
English. I rarely drink cider, and I had never previously tasted perry. Poiré
Granit (referencing the local geology) is made by former sommelier Eric
Bordelet in Normandy. It is made, we were told, in a way that more resembles
champagne than cider. The retail cost is also reminiscent of (cheaper) champagne but unfortunately, the taste is not, and neither of us really liked it. Probably my first and last
glass of perry.
Cod
This small, squat, white cylinder in the middle of its
huge plate looked so lonely I felt sorry for it.
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| Cod, the Angel at Hetton |
Then I unpacked it, removing the kombu, a variety of
kelp very popular in Japan, and shifting the strips of cuttlefish to one side. Beneath
it, balancing on the cod were two small, transparent circles of what I took to
be potato, was this a homage to cod and chips?
I nibbled the kombu; it was all right. I nibbled the cuttlefish;
the thin strips were remarkably tender. Lynne orders cuttlefish whenever it appears
on a menu, but I am deterred by its resemblance to a bloated, yolkless boiled
egg. The flavour is stronger than squid and it tastes more of the sea, but
these strips were about texture not flavour.
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| Cod unpacked, The Angel at Hetton |
The dark blobs were, presumably, smoked pike roe. There
is no way of transferring the blob and its flavour to your mouth with a
standard knife and fork. Michael Wigmore might aim for ‘casual’ but leaning forward
and licking the plate would probably be a step too far.
The cod itself was remarkable. Surprisingly solid, but
with flakes sliding across each other as if lubricated. The flavour was deep
and intense; I never knew the humble cod could taste so sumptuous. I keep a
list of platonic ideals, the food that has reached perfection. This makes the
list, it is the cod that God would eat (if God a) exists, b) eats and c) likes
cod.) Oddly I already have cod on my list, the product of a fish and chip shop
in Reykjavik that was so fresh it was almost fluffy, so pristine it had to be
eaten swiftly and in its entirety. There is room for both, apart
from being cod, and being perfect, they have nothing in common.
Wine Rioja Blanco, Viñedos
del Contino, Rioja Alavesa
I am old enough to remember when Rioja blanco spent
years in oak barrels and the wines were stiff with oak. I rather liked them, but
they went out of fashion and Rioja became all fruit flavours and crispness,
often too thin and acid for me. Now a leading producer has put some oak back.
The young sommelier was quick to note the oak was only to add structure and
texture not oaky flavours, before admitting a hint of smoke and toast. I
thought it struck a fine balance between oak and fruit, and was an inspired
choice, few whites possess the structure to take on the dense flavoured cod.
Quail
Like the cod, the quail gave us a new view of an old
favourite. In Portugal Lynne always buys and cooks quails, though our quail
eating started long ago in France where they serve it guts and all. This quail
breast was more tender, more moist and fuller flavoured than any I have met before. Onto
the list it goes.
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| Quail |
The carefully arranged accompaniments included:
Cotechino, an Italian sausage usually made of pork, but here made of quail. It was rich, savoury and subtly spiced.
Boudin Blanc, literally ‘white pudding.’ A ‘Full English’ breakfast usually includes black
pudding, a sausage made from pigs’ blood, fat, cereal and spices. A ‘Full Irish’
can offer both local local black pudding and white pudding which is largely the same
but without the blood. The French versions are similar but minus the cereal.
They are softer, not a breakfast food, but more like paté. Michael Wigmore’s
was very delicate in flavour.
Three tiny girolles that punched above their weight – I could have managed five!
A Jerusalem artichoke ‘chip’ that supported my belief
that there is little it can do that is not done better by a potato.
Wine. Pinot Noir, Winnica Turnau, Zachodniopomorske.
The sommelier seemed delighted to have sourced a
Polish Pinot Noir. Winnica Turnau started planting in 2010 and today has 37ha
making it Poland’s largest winery. Vivino
display some comments, generally positive, though one remarks that it is
overpriced. It apparently retails at around £30 a bottle. I am delighted to
have tasted my first ever Polish wine, but sadly Lynne and I both felt it was borderline
unpleasant. In retrospect we should have sent it back, but lacking experience of Polish wine, it had all gone before we were certain.
Peach
This was a very pretty dessert sitting in a delicate
shortcrust pastry cup with baked white chocolate on the base and a peach sorbet
on the top. I had to look up namelaka. It is a glossy, stabilized ganache made
from white chocolate, milk, cream, and gelatine. So that is more white chocolate. balanced with fruit and flowers and a crumb beneath the sorbet. It is all very
sweet and lovely.
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| Peach |
Wine.“Kika” Chenin Blanc, Miles Mossop, Stellenbosch
Chenin Blanc is not generally considered a grape for the finest wines, either in South Africa or beside the Loire, but it is susceptible
to ‘noble rot’ if left on the vine long enough. The grapes then shrivel, losing
water but not sugar or flavour. Vinifying such intensely sweet grapes makes
enough alcohol to kill off the yeast before it has consumed all the sugar, leaving
sweet, or in this case, intensely sweet wine, balanced by the Chenin Blanc's
high acidity. With a flowery aroma and a palate of honey and ginger, it is beguiling and even sweeter than the dessert it was paired with. Miles Mossop
names his wine after family members, predictably his sweetest wine is named “Kika”
after his youngest daughter.
Malt
The leading player in this act is the small brown truncated cone resembling a mini-Christmas pudding but tasting more like malt loaf – an almost forgotten memory. The menu also mentions dulce de leche; from Argentina (or Uruguay), it is a sweet, caramel-like spread made by slowly heating milk and sugar until it thickens and turns a rich golden-brown. I presume this forms the brown lines on the plate. Pearl barley also gets a mention, but where it was is a mystery. There was also salsify sticks, a vegetable I had not expected in a dessert, but they fitted well. I also noted a piece of pear, and a blob of something cool and dairy.
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| Malt |
The menu also references Styrofoam, an inedible plastic used in packaging. I presume this is a reference to the pleasant crunchy stuff surrounding the main players and is a joke, of sorts. I may seem a little confused by parts of this dish, but we had been at the table for the best of three hours and drunk six glasses of wine (or perry) - not large glasses, but not small either. It was a pleasant end to the evening, not as sweet as the first dessert and not too demanding to eat (though describing it is another matter).
Wine. Anthemis, UWC Samos
The other way to make a sweet wine is to dump the must
into alcohol of some sort, usually brandy, and so halt the fermentation before
the yeast gets to the grape sugar. Anthemis is one such Vin de Liqueur. Made
from Muscat Blanc à Petits Grains, it spends five years in oak barrels emerging
a pleasing coppery orange. Intensely sweet, it retains the fresh aroma of the
Muscat while the oak aging gives flavours of honey, smoke and toffee. It is
possibly the only realistic answer to the question ‘what wine goes with Christmas
pudding’? It also suits the malt loaf in this slightly less sweet dessert. It
is a wonderful 'sticky' but, a little goes a long way.
The End (for tonight)
We finished the evening with coffee and sweet treats – petits fours to those less casual. We had enjoyed an excellent dinner, with great invention and with some real standouts. We had a good time, but it required a long period of concentration. Much work goes into producing such meals so we owe to the chef to take it seriously – and to us, to get our money’s worth!
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| Coffee and sweet treats |
Breakfast
We awoke refreshed and got up in leisurely fashion. Last night the courses had been numerous, but the portions small enough not to interfere with our capacity to enjoy a good breakfast.
Breakfast presents Michelin starred restaurants with a problem. Diners go into the evening meal prepared to try novel combinations and new flavours but are rather more wary at breakfast. The solution is usually to go
for top quality, but familiar ingredients simply cooked. This does not mean
they cannot produce a dish worthy of my platonic list – I will remember the
scrambled eggs at the Yorke Arms in nearby Ramsgill in 2013 for the rest of my life.
At the Angel the breakfast menu appeared to have another five courses, though the toast and preserves were presumably to be eaten together.
We started with yoghurt, made in-house and enhanced by a layer of fresh fruits and nuts, then we ate the trout, home cured and lightly smoked over hay and accompanied by crème freche and dill. The yoghurt woke the
palate, and the trout (a breakfast first) was very delicately flavoured.
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| Yoghurt and trout |
The toast is Shokupan, another Japanese milk bread, which went nicely with the ampersand butter and the preserves, made in-house like the bread and choux buns. Filled with tonka bean chantilly the buns were
unbelievably light, while the filling was delicious,
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| Toast and choux buns |
The meat was Nidderdale sausage, prize winning pork
sausages made by Farmson and Co in Ripon. The bacon, also produced, was more of a slice from a
bacon joint with a sweet-cured rind than the usual back bacon, but none the worse for that.
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| Sausage and Bacon |
Last up was a soft-boiled free-range Cornish egg. I am not sure Cornish chickens per se produced better eggs than Yorkshire (or even Staffordshire) chickens, but this was a fine egg and with
the yolk dripping across ampersand butter, truly memorable. I have no photo, but if you have read this far, you probably know what an egg looks like.
And that finished our wedding anniversary gastronomic adventure. We may have risen eager to take on breakfast, but when we stood up from the table, we knew we had sacrificed lunch. It was worth it.
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