This is another restaurant review, but first… I digress.
Ten years ago, I lost my voice celebrating a last minute winner; was turning thirty and (tentatively) planning a proposal.
Twenty, I was preparing for going to university: applications and interviews with heaving portfolios and the anticipation of living away from home for the first time in the bright lights of a big city.
Thirty years? Well, it was all Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, Pat Nevin and playing the prodigal son in an assembly.
Much has happened since those turning points in my life… most of which, you’ve read about on this very site. But recently, as I’ve slowly begun to realise and accept that I will turn forty later this year (meaning that it’ll be two decades since I planted my roots in the pool of life) I’m understandably spending a lot of time introspectively looking back and then forward. It’s kind of like my own personal fourth instalment of the Back to the Future narrative, but without the hover boards or mad scientist.
In fact, the way I’m constantly going back and forward through time, it’s perhaps more reminiscent of Quantum Leap, which I loved to watch as a teenager. Pretending to be Sam Beckett and Al, I now theorise that I could time travel in my own lifetime because a recent lunch out brought back many memories and made me realise what life’s about: making the right choice at the right time.
We go back fifteen years, and a fledgling trainee teacher is supplementing his PGCE loan / grant / whatever it was at the time, taking a job waiting on in a hip city centre restaurant that his friend was working wonders in the kitchen of; said teacher is doing shifts on a Friday night and every other Sunday brunch.
Ok, you guessed it, that student was me. and, I’ll be honest, it was one of the only jobs I’ve ever looked forward to my shifts in.
I mean really look forward to: serving quality food in a stylish location with a great team of staff and generally lovely customers.
I truly was surrounded by some great people at Puschka. I was serving Hollyoaks actors – Lenny Henry and Dawn French even came in one day I was off – I also waited on Gillian Kearney, one of my earliest crushes when she was the Debbie to Simon O’Brien’s Damien. Juliette Lewis came in with her band. I also enjoyed Graduation meals there, took friends, teaching colleagues… the lovely bosses Glen and Doug, my fellow waitress Cait and I even got a wonderful godson out of my stint there thanks to the brilliantly talented chefs, Andy and Ange.
I learned so much there, about food, service, wine and people. It inspired me to apply for Masterchef – I got through the first round but my head at the time wouldn’t allow me the time off – to later dine out a couple of times a year at other special places and to meet all those chefs I was learning so much about.
All of this leads us to my return to the place, in its new guise, under the excellent stewardship of the incredibly inventive and talented Anton Piotrowski who himself won the Professionals version of the BBC cooking competition in 2012.
I knew it was going to be great, and planned the visit before Jay Rayner’s glorious review in The Observer back in November which led to over a thousand people – presumably hitherto unaware of the beauty awaiting them there – to book a table.
You can read the excellent and very accurate, based on the present author’s experience, here:
I waited for the furore die down, finally making it last week, and before explaining what happened would just like to commend the place and many others on asking customers to share card details in advance. Working at Puschka, it was often annoying to get late cancellations, so I can only imagine how damaging it can be nowadays what with all the arrogant Trip Advisor idiots without tatsebuds – or, even worse, those who book several tables across a city then choose on the day – are running the risk of losing several quality establishments due to their selfishness or over-inflated self worth.
Anyway, we opted for my favourite table:
On to the food, and I’d been agog at the Instagram posts of the food and the beautifully decorated interior, which meant I knew some of the dishes that would be on offer and also what it would look like. It was almost uncanny – the memorable herringbone floor I’d mopped countless times, the views out of the windows, the wall where I used to write the specials (years before that same handwriting style made it big, another past life I’ve been reminded of recently) – but my first impressions were that this would form even more special memories.
Not having the time to fully savour the Tasting menu – we will be back for that – we ordered from the A La Carte choices and I was kindly offered a matching wine flight to supplement my meal choices.
With glasses of fizz we enjoyed an incredible ‘snack’ of marinated cod with green tea and ponzu, fennel jam and wasabi mayo on a wonderful earthy looking ceramic dish. The sourdough bread was a revelation, as was the hedgerow butter ( lovely pea green in colour and very fresh tasting) whilst WW preferred the caramel-appearing marmite butter that similarly, Mr. Rayner so adored (I didn’t, but I liked it a lot more than I expected to!)
At this point, we discussed the little things like this creamy butter and extra snacks and even the perfectly made bread that some lucky people might enjoy regularly but we really love about meals like this and feel almost sorry for those who never will. (Just on that, somewhat controversially, we agreed that for many it’s just laziness or lack of taste that prevents them, not finances. Roski does a set lunch menu of three course for £25. Lots of people choose to spend their money on other things – mainly material – overlooking the wonderful opportunities on their doorstep… but I digress again)
Starters were immense and we couldn’t have chosen better. I had the aged steak and fried egg; WW the incredible theatrical ‘sea food wreck’ replete with crab, pink and white fish, crayfish, Southport shrimps and a lobster bisque of epic proportions then topped with decadent caviar. The El Esteco Malbec I had to accompany the steak, matched it perfectly.
On to mains, and we swapped surf for turf (and vice versa) meaning I was the lucky recipient of a foam-topped delight featuring turbot, crab, tempura mussels (wow) curried shrimps and an incredible cream (I’m still not totally sure what it tasted of) washed down with a lovely Italian Gavi di Gavi, whilst my better half had opted for goat, sweet potato, burnt onions, turnips and what can only be described as a sausage roll beignet or something like it. Incredible, all the same… of course, we tasted each others but were both more than content with the choices we had made once again.
My mind started to wander… wondering, could I have worked here?
The level of service was immense. Back in the day, my patience and tableside manner meant I was a pretty good waiter, I think, but this front of house today was even more polished, knowledgeable, articulate and helpful; underlined by the final wine which was to accompany probably the best cheese board I’ve ever had (and that includes the colossal three tiered cake we had at our wedding, seven years ago next month (no itch) which we froze most of and were still enjoying months later!)
Said six cheeses were only half the story; I also got some intense figs, apple, onion chutney, delightful crackers half-buried in what might have been lemon verbena seeds? Crunchy and citrussy, anyway, and more of that brilliant butter.
Oh, and the wine. Not port, but an incredible fortified red from Italy (Aleatica di Puglia, Francesco Candida, fact fans) which I know because the kind waitress even wrote down the varieties I was tasting – both the wines and all six cheeses!
For the record -from left to right – they were: truffled brie; Isle of Man blue; Barkham Blue; Driftwood; Celtic promise and Tourgess.
Meanwhile, my better half had chosen Piotrowski’s signature dessert, a playful yet sincerely delicious and incredibly clever ‘Roski gone carrots’ dessert, a take on what helped the chef win his accolade seven years ago. A combination of carrot cake, chocolate soil, popping candy, orangey sorbet and an actual beautiful peeled carrot which bowled over Rayner and my own biggest critic.
Upon paying the bill, I shared my history in the place and discussed the changes which had been made; the decor; the design… I didn’t want to play the prodigal son again, even though it strangely felt a bit like being back home. We sent our heartfelt thanks and compliments down the skinny staircase I had gone up and down so many times, and I was surprised to learn that one staff member – she must have been there long after my time – was still there, and I contemplated how she might look upon the experience of working at both. I can only compare it now as a customer, though it’s somewhere I’d certainly love to visit much more frequently.
Acutely aware that the staff needed to clean up and not wanting to outstay our welcome, we walked out onto the picturesque Rodney Street pavement and on leaving, went for a quick digestif in a new(ish) whisky bar which was a bank when I lived in a flat upstairs but has also changed dramatically in those fifteen years.
As we left there, the staff of Roski came in for a post-shift drink! We thanked them again for their hospitality and again I considered that – if time travel were indeed possible – I might, once upon a time, have been with them, had things turned out differently.
A few more venues visited, I posted a self portrait with glass entitled ‘All Our Yesterdays’… because I’d forgotten a lot of the great things and people that I used to spend time around.
Mainly because there were some new faces I’d been introduced to in the mean time (and not those that Sam Beckett adopted)
The food, drink and ambience at Roski was like a quantum leap in itself and this was a day we won’t forget for a long while yet.
