» Food: If music be…
Andrew Kay multitasks, in a foodie way, at
Table’s Pure Velvet evening
I’m no great fan of jargon. Our world is littered with ridiculous invented language and terminology, much of which has been thought up by people with too much time on their hands. I shake my fist at concepts like ‘blue sky thinking’, and the term ‘Human Resources’ makes me sick to the core. Whenever did humans become a resource? Oh I know the argument is that it’s a resource for humans but think back and I am sure that most of you will agree that ain’t been so since the dismissal of the word ‘Personnel’.
The one I hate most is ‘Multitasking’, or should I say hated. Last night I found that I too could multitask at quite an extraordinary level. Until now I have dismissed this mad idea that only women can do it. How silly. I do know some women who can multitask, of course, but by that I mean that they can effectively gossip and pretend to work, both at the same time. Sorry girls, I know some of you will object, but I also know that some of you will know exactly what I am talking about.
I, however, am now accomplished in the art of dining and listening to live music simultaneously. Let me go back a bit.
I have, of late, spent rather a lot of time dining at Table. I have already reviewed it here more than favourably, and since then I have been back many times. I like it on many levels: great food, sensible prices and a good atmosphere amongst them.
“Matthew vanKan is a crooner with a velvet voice and the ability to rip through the Nat King Cole and sundry other songbooks with a great deal of style”
When Gigi, the most impressive of all maître d’s, informed me that he was introducing a monthly live music event called Pure Velvet, I was slightly apprehensive.I have started to despair when I walk into a bar and find a brace of decks awaiting the arrival of some DJ. That is certainly not for me. Gigi explained that this would be an entirely different affair, so I agreed that I might pop along. Which I did, with Mr L…
The room certainly looked good when we arrived, although quite quiet, but pink and blue spotlights created a good atmosphere, and pretty soon the place was rammed.
Dinner cost £25 for three courses including the entertainment. On this occasion it was Matthew vanKan. Matthew is a crooner with a velvet voice and the ability to rip through the Nat King Cole, Frank Sinatra, Perry Como and sundry other songbooks with a great deal of style. He looked the part too, tall and lean in a very cool suit, shirt and tie. The sound and look was absolutely spot on, as was the volume. We could hear him well enough, but we could also hear ourselves speak.
By our side was a large party who were having a very good time, but even their merriment did not intrude on us or Mr vanKan. I also noted that the room was filled with rather stylish people who had made an effort and dressed up for the evening. It gave the whole thing an air of being something special.
As for the food, well, it was as good as I have come to expect. I recommended the gnocchi with oxtail to Mr L and we both had it and declared it utterly scrummy. He than had the mutton chop with couscous laced with preserved lemons and a harissa yoghurt dressing. He was more than happy. I told the waiter that I was in love with my lemon sole with mussels and a saffron sauce. And at that moment I was. It was a fat flatfish with lots of creamy white flesh that gave me the opportunity to show off my filleting skills and thus prove that I could step up to the third level of multitasking without breaking a sweat. Mr L was impressed, too, as I lifted the skeleton from the lower level of culinary delight. “It’s like watching an artist at work,” he declared, and he was right.
I was even ready for pudding for once; not that I was hungry, just that I was having too good a time for it all to end. I chose the River Café chocolate Nemesis. I ate that at the River Café the first time it was on the menu. I was dining with a great American food writer who had invented the dish and they made it in her honour as I had told them I was taking her there. She was not impressed but was very polite. I did not need to be so polite; this was good. Mr L made light of a rhubarb and amaretto trifle that he chose as part of his five a day, the poor deluded creature.
Pure Velvet is a monthly affair and one that I highly recommend.
Table, MyHotel, Jubilee Square, Brighton, East Sussex, BN1 1GE, 01273 900383, brighton@companyofcooks.com
