Nathan seems to think that he was at Opheem with me a year ago, whilst I happen to know it was four years ago, due to the wonderful time stamps on iPhones and restraining orders. It’s a Nathan appropriate gap; enough to treat one of my favourite people in the world whilst still upholding the minimal amount of respect I have with the team at the restaurant. And he’s a great lunch partner who understands the art of a long lunch. He has a healthy appetite for life that extends to both food and drink, he’s a little bit silly and a lot bit fun. The last time we were here the restaurant had one star, we had a three course lunch, got quite drunk and yeah, no idea after that. This time he’s at my house for 11am, we drink martini’s straight out of my fridge, google what pubs are open and yeah, it’s still two hours before we eat.
Our seating arrangement is familiar. In the bar we’re sat where Sophie and I do so often; just to the right of the door, near the counter where they prepare the snacks. When I booked I told them we had two and a half hours to get to the champions league final in the pub, so it’s just a quick lunch, but no, they think we can do all ten courses in that time, and Nathan is up for the challenge. We fly through the opening shot of spiked cucumber juice, the oyster emulsion in the shell, and the mango tuiles with mango and mint chutney. I say it every-single-time but the one-two of the apple macaron with beef tartare, whipped foie, and date, followed by the crab crumpet with curry oil and lemon are two of the great snacks anywhere in the world. Nathan agrees. There’s the sea bass for Nathan to finish, whilst I get the return of the strawberry cookie for the first time in years, which we wash down with a martini, another martini, and a negroni. It dawns on me that I see the interiors of Opheem more frequently than my best friend, a sentence I can’t determine is great or tragic.
They sit us, perhaps intentionally, probably by luck, in the same seat that Nathan and I sat the last time. Back of the room, looking down at the pass where Aktar is inspecting some fish before it goes on a plate. There is the brilliant shiso leaf pakora, littered in spice and with a green dip to dunk in, followed by the new asparagus dish that feels like a cleaner, more delicate take on the tandoori carrot. Its beautiful cooking, light, almost sensitive, that prefers warming spices to blunt heat. Spears of asparagus, with an onion bhaji, tamarind, and a light soup. It’s almost French in delivery. We get the scallop with the wet sambal, almond, and apple. I love that scallop, of course I do. It’s been my number one dish for the last two years, and I firmly, honestly believe it’s as good a scallop dish as you’ll eat in this country. Nathan thinks it’s one of the best things he’s ever eaten. In fact, he’s saying that quite loudly. Looks like it’s going to be another four years before we come back, though, at least they’ll be on the third star by then.
It’s aloo tuk time and I’m already regretting that sausage mcmuffin and two hash browns at 10.30am, but it’s okay because my pissed best mate remembers it from my wedding when he was pissed best man and eats both of them. A quite brilliant palate cleanser comes before cod with a bright and acidic sauce sharpened with gooseberries, that is vibrant and quite perfect for this part of the meal. The bread course, laminated and rolled paratha with skewered lamb belly, chai-like shorba, and spiced pate of lambs brains. The last savoury course is what I think is their best main to date, though I feel like I’m saying that every time I visit. Guinea fowl breast, mousseline stuffed under the skin; shami kebab of the good bits, some green tomato, a hint of truffle somewhere and one of those sauces that leans into the bitter notes whilst stuff being robust and littered with heat. It is magnificent. Stop the world I want to get off magnificent. Tell everyone to eat here immediately magnificent. Magnificent like a solar eclipse, or child birth, or a football fan with a flare up his arse. You get the picture. Magnificent.
Desserts, I’d love to tell you about them, but we have fifteen minutes til kick-off, so it’s one of each between two and both served at the same time. I think one was mango and lime and I’m certain that the other was the chocolate and mint ‘after eight’. Petit fours in a box, bill for £400 each (with some very generous wine pairings) and off we run. En route to watch Arsenal Nathan mentions doing this more often; just two blokes, a lovely lunch, and way too much to drink. We should. We absolutely should. Because eating out isn’t just about knowing the chef personally, or dick-swinging about more stars, but sharing the very joy of having someone cook great food for you, and having that very privilege as the foundation to create special memories. Admittingly, there is no better place to do that than Opheem.
10/10
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