I have a podcast. Have you listened to my podcast? Why haven’t you listened to my podcast, you shits? It’s called The Meat and One Veg Podcast, because that’s what you call a podcast when you write a blog called Meat and One Veg. Catchy, I know. It’s very good, legendary even. A snappy forty or so minutes with the best guests possible, unlike a two hour essay of bowel movements you might get, well, I couldn’t possibly say. Tom Shepherd has been on it, his episode came out the weekend I last went for lunch. He likes it, and I know this because he told me so. I’d say it’s probably my favourite episode we’ve done. Tom is brilliant, as is the fucking hilarious Harry Jenkins. At the end Tom cooks the Desperate Dan pie from Great British Menu, I cry with happiness, and Simon The Bastard Producer cuts the bit where Tom agrees to cook pies at my wedding. Chef, you’re going to have to keep to that promise soon. It’s happening.
Upstairs cuts a brilliant picture that Saturday lunch. It’s heaving by the time we arrive with Sophie’s parents at 1pm sharp; the buzz of anticipation in the room is palpable and we settle in with some really superb cocktails, crucially the products of different members of the team, proving that everyone is being trusted and driven to take the restaurant to the next level. The snacks are mostly familiar save for a new bite of tuna belly which fits seamlessly in amongst the cheese sable, beef tartare, and cheese polenta snacks. Sophie asks if it’s possible for all the snacks to be one collective course in her top ten dishes of the year. Go for it, babes. Cured boar, then the bread with that unbelievable marmite butter and that very good normal butter. It’s all very polished and well rehearsed. You get the impression that nothing goes on the table until it’s refined, practised, and perfected.
There’s the scallop with satay sauce, a dish I’ve had countless times and still marvel at. Where does he find such gigantic beasts? Cooked with total control of heat and with a satay that’s restrained and quietly brooding, it’s an absolute stunner. Follow that up with monkfish, curried carrot and chicken butter sauce – a dish that straddles the line of almost-too-sweet before pulling it back with some very clever injections of umami and acidity – and you have a start to a meal as good as any restaurant, anywhere.
Hogget next. Saddle barbecued to a rosey medium, crispy belly, courgette purée, barbecued courgette, goats curd mousse. So far, so very Michelin. But Tom is cleverer than that; of course he is, he appeared on my podcast. He douses everything in a sauce that’s rich and bright with (definitely) mint and (I think) malt vinegar. It echoes Sunday lunch in the most refined of ways. It’s brilliant. Dessert is chocolatey and nutty, kissed with booze and sweet enough to make you remember it’s the end of the meal, but with a creme fraiche ice cream that shows a beautifully light touch. We have chocolates with expensive coffee, which was worth it if only to confirm Blue Mountain just isn’t my thing at all. Sophie’s parents pay for lunch, including two very nice bottles of wine, the cocktails we had before and after. They’ve also paid for us to go to a hotel in Crete where every suite has its own pool. Wonderful people they are.
On the podcast Tom and I discuss lots of things, but what stands out is when he correctly points out that a restaurant which gets a star in six months probably shouldn’t stop there. He’s right. And this, my sixth visit, shows signs that two stars aren’t out of the question next time around. It just feels at a level above one. It’s technically brilliant, precise, flavour-led cooking. It doesn’t miss a beat. It’s going to get even harder to book a table here soon.
10/10
- Fine Dining,
- great british menu,
- lichfield,
- meat and one veg podcast,
- Michelin,
- one star,
- podcast,
- Tom shepherd,
