db Eats: Drake’s at the Clockhouse

City dwellers are so spoilt. Forget the embarrassment of choice when it comes to eating out, whether special occasion or the simple desire for a night off the washing up; the real, often under-appreciated perk is the public transport.

It’s not (necessarily) that you want to hit the wine list hard every time, but the knowledge that someone in the party has to drive home at the end of the meal can put a dampener on both the occasion and, frustratingly for the restaurant, the bill.

With the prospect of a serious weekend lunch at Drake’s, a Michelin-starred restaurant in the well-heeled Surrey village of Ripley, we decided the only solution was to take the train and, in the words of my ex-army accomplice, “tab” the five kilometres from West Byfleet to lunch.

A brisk 50 minutes later and, looking rather less elegant than the rest of the diners, we were relaxing in the bar with a thirst-quenching Sipsmith gin and tonic and a copy of the menu.

Headlined by a single main ingredient, followed by an adjective-free list of accompaniments, the deceptively simple presentation was counter-balanced by the creativity of several pairings. Sea bass with oxtail? Pigeon with cocoa? Parsnip for pudding? We felt the same mixture of intrigue and trepidation as if we’d wandered into the Masterchef kitchen.

To save decision making in such uncharted territory, we seized upon the maître d’s recommendation of the chef’s menu. Billed as a “surprise” six courses based on the produce available that day, this seemed not only the best way to see the kitchen shine, but also, with a summer lunchtime price of £39.50 per person – Saturdays included – a pleasantly good value option.

With our exercise-whetted appetites, it took will power to savour fully the dainty amuse bouche of chicken liver parfait with curried meringue which opened the meal. Creamy and light, the parfait offered a pleasing textural contrast with the crisp, airy meringue morsel, which left behind a lingering curry imprint.

Then came the “truffle explosion”. Whether truffles were really on the market that day at this time of year was dubious – their flavour here certainly lacked its usual pheromonal intensity – but the pasta enveloping the mushroomy liquid within was beautifully light and the promised “explosion” a socially acceptable way to play with your food.

Despite the dangers of filling up on bread with such a line up of courses still ahead, the mini red pepper brioches were airy, full of punchy roast pepper flavour and mouthwateringly seasoned. Equally worth the stomach space was the crusty 17 hour sourdough bread.

With no knowledge of what dishes were to come, it made sense to put ourselves in the hands of the sommelier Thierry. With two courses, albeit bite-sized ones, under our belts, we were beginning to glance anxiously at our empty glasses.

Just before panic set in, he glided across the packed restaurant with the first in a series of what might be described as “geek treats”: wines which leave the image conscious cold, but tend to catch the eye of wine lovers scanning the list for value and food-affinity rather than prestige.

On a warm Spring day, the 2010 Raisins Gaulois Beaujolais, served slightly chilled, was an ideal red to match a dish which vied for stand-out status during the meal. The fresh, bright fruit and spritzy acidity cut neatly through the perfectly seared foie gras, while the earthy notes from the Gamay sang alongside the delicate gaminess of quail so tender it melted in the mouth no less satisfyingly than the foie gras. Rhubarb, caramelised turnip and a sliver of broccoli added flair to a beautifully conceived and executed dish.

We were slightly less moved however by the glass of warm, milky sweetcorn foam which was recommended as a “chaser”. Like the truffle explosion, it lacked a little intensity of flavour from the sweetcorn and after the delights of the main dish seemed unnecessarily fussy.

Next came a piece of brill, cut through with a pink vein of smoked salmon, the whiteness of the fish set off by the bright green of the watercress puree and crunchy samphire. There was obviously a deal on turnips at the market that day as they once again made an appearance on the plate, but in such a way that reminded how tasty this root can be when given the Michelin-starred treatment. The finishing touch came from a drizzle of lapsang souchong-infused olive oil, which added a subtle smokiness to the ensemble.

Thierry matched the fish with the Viognier-scented Mas de Daumas Gassac white, which carried some additional body from its Chardonnay component while Petit Manseng added acidity. In true Languedoc style, the remaining 25% of the blend is made up from a Heinz 57 assortment of other white varieties from Chenin Blanc to Petite Arvine.

While a good match for the dish, the wine was trying rather too hard on the fruit and oak to let the glass slip down as well as others during the meal. As a bonus, Thierry also poured us a taste of a second, very different wine. Located near Austria’s Neusiedlersee, Gut Oggau has been catching attention for its range of wines with labels featuring a “portrait” of the personality inside each bottle.

“Cheerful, pert and playful”, Theodora was represented by a rather attitude-heavy young girl. The wine itself was a blend of Grüner Veltliner with a 30% dose of Welshriesling, whose aromatic profile certainly provided some of the attitude suggested by the label.

Moving back to red again, we stayed in continental Europe with the Limberg III from Weingut Bercher in Baden, one of a pleasing handful of German reds on the list. The blend of Cabernet Sauvignon/Merlot/Pinot Noir/Lemberger (the local name for Blaufränkisch) sparked concerns this was going to be a rather heavy-handed, internationally-styled wine, but the end result was pleasantly fresh underneath the spice and mulberries. Nevertheless, Baden is probably better off staking its reputation on the region’s impressive output of single varietal Pinot Noirs.

To accompany the wine – or perhaps it was the other way round – came two pieces of slow cooked duck: some leg meat falling off its bone and a second piece which had been equally slow cooked, this time in a water bath and then roasted to create a caramelised effect, set off nicely by the tamarind glaze.

Despite the copious courses and bready temptations, the portions were elegantly – certainly not stingily – sized so that, as we entered the final pudding straight, we still felt pleasantly long on stamina.

Looking around the packed room, most of our fellow diners appeared to have gone for the same menu option as us. In this affluent corner of commuter belt, footballer rich Surrey, the people watching potential was almost as satisfying as the food.

Behind us sat a table of highly maintained ladies-who-lunch, while we spent some time debating, sotto voce, the mafia connections of the two gentlemen to the side, successfully drinking the restaurant out of Sassicaia 2003 at a cool £352 per bottle.

Easing us into the sweeter part of the meal arrived the dish which divided opinion most during the meal: pineapple ice cream with grated gruyère, cucumber and pea shoots. A witty take on a ‘70’s cocktail party staple or two main ingredients that belong on different plates?

While appreciating the contrast between the creamy, cold sweetness of the pineapple and the nutty, room temperature coils of cheese, my brain struggled to relax and enjoy the combination. Perhaps by virtue of being more open-minded, or alternatively, accustomed to strange fare in his army ration packs, the other 50% of this focus group was gleefully seduced by the creation.

Moving on the pudding proper, we dived with gusto into an intense chocolate ganache, enlivened by walnut ice cream, pear slices and, for the creative twist, coriander crumbs, all working together to create an intriguing but harmonious whole.

The plateful was rounded off perfectly by a glass of one of the world’s most overlooked wines, a Maury vin doux natural in the form of Mas Amiel 2009, perfectly chilled and full of fruitcake while at the same time mouthwateringly fresh.

Although both of us were thoroughly in the mood for cheese at this stage, the second pudding was a wonderful finish to the meal. Very different to its predecessor, the parsnip ice, blackberry fruit leather cylinder surrounding a yoghurt centre and sorrel ice crystals was a highly accomplished, smile-inducing interpretation of an English hedgerow.

Despite admitting the final dish was “a nightmare” for wine matching, Thierry came up trumps with the pétillant, pretty pink Rose de Sables Cabernet Franc from the Loire. Bone dry and light, it worked beautifully with the brambly flavours on the plate while allowing us to finish the meal – barring a selection of irresistible homemade petits fours and coffee – feeling far more invigorated than when we had staggered through the door nearly three hours earlier.

At a time when casual dining and sharing platters are all the rage, it felt rather rebelliously retro to be back in the starched white tablecloths of traditional fine dining. Drake’s might struggle to pull in these crowds on a regular basis if it was positioned any further from the M25 and in a less pretty location. However, this place is proof that – if you can get around the transport issue ­– the Home Counties are perfectly up to giving London restaurants a run for their money.

Drake’s Restaurant

The Clock House,

High Street,

Ripley,

Surrey

GU23 6AQ

Tel: +44 (0)1483 224 777

www.drakesrestaurant.co.uk