db Eats: The Penny Black

Like croquet and Scrabble, reviewing a restaurant brings out a side of me that I’m not too keen on. Suddenly a perfectly lovely meal out with a friend turns into nit picking scrutiny of someone’s hospitality, or worse, dream.

With that preface, it’s worth coming clean and saying that, in case the petty criticisms littering the rest of this piece snatch undue emphasis, The Penny Black is a lovely little restaurant serving food that absolutely achieves its aim of serving up "indulgent dishes" of "the finest British offerings". Go there for a date or cosy dinner and you’re in safe hands. Bon appétit. Read no further.

I hurtled through the door at 7.32pm to find my companion (preferred pseudonym "the Bearded Brunette) looking abandoned in an unnervingly deserted restaurant for a Thursday night on the bustling Fulham Road. From the buzz 45 minutes later though, it was obvious that Chelsea doesn’t head out to dinner until 8pm. A rather dark, cramped bar area meant that, as our fellow diners had evidently realised, you’re better off having that pre-dinner G&T elsewhere.

We started with a glass of perfectly pleasant Taittinger Brut Reserve NV, the house Champagne (Hatch Mansfield’s portfolio is well, although by no means exclusively, represented here).

The wine list was fairly straight-laced, focusing on the classics rather than coaxing the conservative Chelsea crowd too far off-piste. Although not especially cheap, it was pleasing to see every wine available by the glass or carafe. Our waitress was also confident in recommending wines to match the various dishes, capably doubling as our sommelier for the evening.

My Sancerre rosé was beautifully understated; quiet on the nose but with lovely, delicate Pinot Noir fruit in the mouth. It was like drinking flat Champagne – in a good way, as I hurriedly assured our waitress.

More often than not, New World Rieslings seem a bit too flabby and caricatured. Not so the Wakefield example, which added a mouth-watering, lively dimension to its limey Australian fruit, backed by some real mineral edge: delicious.

I thought I’d already decided what I’d order during a sneaky lunchtime preview on the website. However they’d slipped in a few more summery dishes than the online menu showed so I was swayed towards the chilled cucumber and watercress soup. Its satisfyingly thick consistency, with cucumber freshness supported by more substantial flavour from the watercress, hit the spot nicely.

The BB offered me a forkful of his rather hefty starter of scallops with black pudding and pea shoots. The scallops were plump and perfectly cooked, but I agreed with BB’s assessment that "the black pudding could have done with a bit more zing". We also decided that the slightly soggy potato which formed the base of each mini tower would have been better replaced by a crispy crouton.

The slick service gave us just enough time to notice the slightly misplaced background muzak, rather unnecessary in a room this cosy and busy. As BB observed, warming to his role, "soaring vocals are a dreadful idea and should not be repeated anywhere".

Our audio critique was curtailed by the arrival of BB’s beef Wellington and my whole baked crab. So easy to get wrong, the Wellington arrived spot on medium rare with light, crispy pastry, a welcome jug of gravy and dauphinoise jazzed up with fennel. My crab was indulgently portioned and tasty, but slightly let down by the duck fat roasted chips, which had sparked such excited anticipation but arrived rather heavy and mournfully uncrisp. I ignored the token buffet-style lettuce on the plate in favour of my side dish of green asparagus, advancing one step closer to my mission to gorge on so much that I don’t miss it until next season.

In the meantime we’d switched gear on the wines. BB’s Syrah request resulted in a spicy, juicy ’07 Crozes Hermitage from J Vidal-Fleury, with nicely structured tannins to stand up to the beef. I was recommended a Gavi di Gavi La Toledana ’09 from Villa Lanata, a style I’d usually self-consciously avoid so as not to come across as a member of the ladies-who-lunch brigade, but very much enjoyed. Its peach blossom and almond notes sang, with enough body and zing to stand up to the crab.

After two very substantial courses, I admired BB’s ambition in ordering chocolate fondant with toffee butter. Fortunately for his stomach, the toffee was more of an aesthetic flourish to decorate the perfectly executed fondant. My gin and tonic jelly with ice cream was as fun and light as I’d hoped. A trio of jellies offered zesty lemon, through to orangey angostura and mulled sloe flavours, injected with icy, citrusy, boozey freshness from the ice cream.

In all, The Penny Black is the sort of restaurant that makes you realise how spoilt we are in London when local restaurants are this good. In terms of price, wine list, menu and white tablecloth decor(um) it fits neatly and modestly into its Chelsea surroundings. If you’re not out to prove yourself as the next AA Gill, you’ll have a lovely meal here. If you are, go and pick a fight with somewhere trying to force a concept or make a statement. Leave The Penny Black to get on with doing its job of being an aspiring, upmarket but pleasantly unstuffy neighbourhood restaurant.

The Penny Black
212 Fulham Road,
London
SW10 9PJ

Tel: +44 (0)845 838 8998
Web: www.thepennyblack.com

Gabriel Savage, 31.05.2011