Henrietta: An ode to joy from star Ollie Dabbous

Fun — not a usual hotel attribute — seems prioritised here, says Fay Maschler
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Fay Maschler31 January 2018

Language, Truth and Logic is one of the cocktails on offer at Henrietta Hotel. It is also the title of a book of philosophy by A J Ayer published in 1936 with astonishing success. It has been described as “a first-rate antidote for fuzzy thought and muddled writing” and would be useful reading right now.

Sir Alfred Jules “Freddie” Ayer — married third time around to Vanessa Salmon (Nigella Lawson’s late mother) — has been described as the wickedest man in Oxford. One of the incidents where he triumphed was in 1987 when, aged 77, at a New York party entertaining a group of models, a girl rushed in screaming that her friend Naomi Campbell was being molested. Ayer rode to the rescue. “Do you know who I am?” asked Mike Tyson, for it was he, when Freddie urged him to desist. “I’m the heavyweight champion of the world.”

“And I am the former Wykeham Professor of Logic,” Ayer gravely replied. “We are both pre-eminent in our field. I suggest we talk about this like rational men.”

I love this story and by extension whoever names a cocktail after a book of philosophy and dreams up other concoctions inspired by Kurt Vonnegut titles (Sirens of Titan, Cat’s Cradle), Kingsley Amis’s Lucky Jim, A J Cronin’s The Citadel and, in Down and Out — Beefeater gin, Lillet Blanc, Crème de Cassis — references George Orwell.

Are we surprised that Experimental Group, owners of Henrietta Hotel and also Experimental Cocktail Club, Joyeux Bordel and Compagnie des Vins Surnaturels, has managed to involve Ollie Dabbous in overseeing its restaurant? No, we are not. As well as being a gifted chef Ollie has always struck me as being sharp as a tack. Well, there is Barnyard of course, but everyone can be forgiven one aberration (from Fay’s Truth and Logic).

The wit exhibited by Anistatia Miller and Jared Brown of Mixellany carries on into the look of the dining room designed by Dorothée Meilichzon — refreshingly random, seemingly wholly subjective — and the attitude and smiles of the staff. Oddly shaped tables create individual pools of space. A long one at the far end abuts an open kitchen in front of which the back of Dabbous can be spotted darting up and down by the pass. Fun — not a usual hotel attribute — seems prioritised.

Soft, pliable but slightly charred: grilled flatbread with freshly picked crab
Daniel Hambury/Stella Pictures

The menu, under the control of Rob Tecwyn, formerly head chef at Dabbous, is, you could say, an ode to joy. Springy, leafy, flowery, herby, grainy, it blossoms with the promise of summer that inspired Schiller’s poem and Beethoven’s music. A case in point that we share to start is grilled flatbread — soft, pliable but slightly charred — heaped with freshly picked crab lavished with garlic butter, topped with “coastal” herbs. My companion (he’s a chef) identifies dill, oyster leaf and sea aster. I just cram it in.

Sheep’s milk curd with spring onion, pistachio, lime and marigold shoots is a synthesis of quite didactic flavours ameliorated by the slither of curd and the squeak of finely shaved spring onions. Pistachios lend their sweetness.

'Slow cooked Saddleback pork with lardo melting on top conveys pleasing, almost daring, simplicity'

At a second meal a bowl of spring vegetables and flowers with wild garlic and Graceburn cheese — soft, raw cow’s cheese steeped in herb-infused oils — is balm to the senses and to the soul of someone like me who feels always lagging behind in the five-a-day stakes. Hot lamb broth poured on at the table removes the annoyance of blatant virtue. Quail is a cheeky bird promising diversion but often not delivering. Here we reckon it has been brined before barbecuing to achieve such impact in both texture and flavour. Fenugreek, toasted wheat, almonds and clover is a crunchy, fragrant accompaniment that probably could not be bettered.

After various bouquets on the plates, slices of slow-cooked Saddleback pork served with a film of lardo melting on top and shards of slightly scorched sweet, long Tropea onions convey pleasing, almost daring, simplicity.

Not everything is faultless — life’s not like that. The tarama served with radishes as a drink-accompanying dabble lacks the punchiness innate to smoked cod’s roe; beef tartare with nasturtium and rye is underseasoned, missing the cigar oil and whisky (and salt) that was folded into the mixture at Dabbous. Grilled mackerel with cockles, cucumber and lovage is a bit overcooked and flabby.

Desserts re-assert eminence. What is lovelier than a maraschino cherry that perches at the apex of a swirl of soft-serve cherry blossom ice cream? Tulameen raspberry puff pastry tartlet contains ethereal crème pâtissière and is decorated with sweet and sour rose petals, truly inspired.

My companion treats us to a bottle of Clos Mogador Cataluña Priorat Isabelle and Rene Barber 2007, so I don’t study the wine list with the usual attention. I do notice it is not greedy — in line with the food prices, where only one main course exceeds £20.

Soon the mezzanine level of the dining space with its glazed wall will open to accommodate more customers. There is language, truth and logic in nearly everything.

Dinner daily 6pm-10pm. Lunch starts June 5. A meal for two with wine, about £130 including 12.5 per cent service.

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