|
One of the best moments on TV in recent months was Antonio Carluccio’s visit to a rude goatherds' hut on a Sardinian hillside, and the sampling there of the repulsive local cheese, casa marzu. The urbane and avuncular Italian’s performance as a bridge between his British audience and these phlegmatic, leathery sons of the garrigue was a joy to watch.
The chain of restaurants that bear Carluccio’s name attempts to pull off a similar trick - namely, to bring the simple robust flavours of Italian cuisine to the plates of a suburban patronage in Richmond, Wimbledon, Bury St Edmunds, Chester. To measure how well the chain - which, although no longer owned by Carluccio, still employs him as a consultant - succeeds, we must judge by the food alone, since the restaurants themselves and the experience one has in them are far removed from those Italian origins. Indeed, the ambience is firmly in keeping with a modern British high street. The ample, well-proportioned room is a sea of creams and blues. There is a modest delicatessen as one enters. The tables are full and the atmosphere is buzzy.
The menu is sensible - not too long, not too short. Standard Italian format: appetisers, pasta dishes, main courses. No pizzas. Although it appears to change seasonally, most of the old favourites were on board in the autumn version we had in front of us. If there was a theme, it was that peppers featured in rather too many dishes for our liking. They cropped up as one of the accompaniments to our starter, the antipasto massimo - a slate of ham, salami and chicken with focaccia. This was wonderful. Of course, you would think there wouldn't be much that could go wrong with a dish like this, but my experience in some of Chester’s other Italian restaurants has provided ample proof to the contrary.
A decent sized portion of ravioli was bland save for the meaty punch of a single sage leaf. Osso buco was served cooler than necessary and had presumably been prepared sous-vide. A fritto misto of calamari, prawns and whitebait was good but not perfect - the consistency of the batter, the temperature of the oil? One senses that - as so often with these big chains - as little as possible is left to the vagaries of the local kitchens. By eliminating the possibility of failure, the opportunity for excellence is also missed. Like the starter, both of our puds - chocolate ice cream and chocolate fondant - were first class. We drank the menu’s recommendation - a rieslingish white from the Sicilian Francesca Planeta - and were glad we did.
Service was cheerful and the courses arrived with a nice rhythm. Children are well looked after. There is a queue at the door at all but the most off-peak of moments.
Bridge Street has always been something of an underachiever when it comes to eating and drinking, but it seems the tide may be turning. We are a long long way from the garrigue: there is nothing rough and ready about Carluccio's. But there are robust flavours to be tasted even in these hygienic surroundings. Choose what needs the least preparation and you will not go far wrong.
No chips.
|
