Andrew Kay is knocked out by a Polska feast at The Tin Drum
At 18 I was naive and had met – on a proper level – fewer than five truly foreign people – a boy from Africa called Summers, who danced when he saw snow for the first time, and an Asian family (father and mother both doctors). That was it, I think. I had been to an Indian restaurant and a Chinese one but I don’t reckon that they really counted. Then boom, I landed at Chelsea School Of Art and was surrounded by people of all nations. I loved it, Lancashire had been so, so parochial and so isolated.
I got to eat real foreign food too, all sorts, but my favourite came a year later when my friend Monica came to Chelsea. Her mother was Polish and I soon discovered a rich vein of European cuisine that still thrills me. I went to Daquise in South Kensington, The Polish Hearth Club in Exhibition Road and a funny place in Balham where the dumplings came dressed with crispy fried bacon fat sprinkled on top. It’s not for the feint hearted this stuff.
“The duck was divine, the right amount of sweet flesh wrapped in soft fat and crisp skin”
During the B&H Food Fest, The Tin Drum held a Solidarnosh event, a spread of Polish dishes and vodka. They invited me along and I could not go, already booked that night. I was disappointed and so, it would seem, were they as they asked me if I would go the lunchtime before the evening event. It would have been rude to decline, would it not?
I arrived at 1pm and made it quite clear that while I could easily eat a five course meal at that time of day, I might struggle with the vodka. They agreed to moderate the measures accordingly and my journey began. To start then, blinis with smoked salmon and sour cream. Springs of course. Why serve anything else? And buckwheat leavened pancakes. It was good, really good, but in hindsight too generous given what was to follow.
Next came barscz with uszka, that’s beetroot soup with mushroom dumpling. Mmm, beetroot soup, what a deep and earthy joy this is when well made, just a hint of vinegar, and at the heart a slippery parcel filled with soft fungi. I too make borscht, different, but that’s the joy of this dish, it should always be a little different.
Sledz next, that’s herring to you and me. This was meltingly soft and bathed in a dressing of olive oil and lemon with parsley and a red onion, dill pickle and potato salad on the side. There was little concession to dainty appetites here and I was loving it. I even succumbed and drank a little vodka, the perfect match. If you are starting to feel full then take a break here, we have only come part way, skip back and give my mate Katie a read if you haven’t already.
Is that better, rested? Good, we now have to consider a confit duck leg served with kasza and an apple and honey vodka compote. I love confit duck, and to say ‘leg’ is wrong, as it always comes with a big fat thigh still in place. This was divine, the right amount of sweet flesh wrapped in soft fat and crisp skin. The compote too was good, slightly sweet and heady from the booze, but not jarringly so. The kasza disappointed, and at this point they came clean and admitted that all attempts to make a kasza that they had liked had failed and in the end they had abandoned the buckwheat groats in favour of a pearl barley risotto. It might have been a wise decision, my memories of kasza are of an earthy grits-like dish that would not be to all tastes.
So finally to pudding. ‘Something light!’ I hear you beg, but oh no, out came a slice of baked cheesecake. Now anyone who likes American style chilled cheesecake go and stand in the corner with your hands on your heads. Baked cheesecake is the best and this one was exemplary. A soft curdy slab that melted in the mouth and tasted of the dairy, a hint of lemon and just the occasional burst of a sultana here and there. A cherry vodka coulis added a sophisticated note, one that was lost in the only down-point of my entire meal. It’s cruel to gripe when one has been treated so well and so generously, but the presentation of this one dish was naff, real 70s stuff with a strawberry and a circumcised physallis dusted with icing sugar. It just did not need it. And I said so. Well, I was a guinea pig and there was nothing else I felt I could comment on, the rest of the meal had been epic.
Polish with polish, a great meal and a bargain price too at £25 including a generous selection of premium vodka shots. I hope that they put more Polish dishes on the menu very soon.
The Tin Drum, 95–97 Dyke Road, Brighton. Call 01273 777575 or see www.tindrum.co.uk for more information.
