» The Foragers restaurant, Hove
Andrew Kay goes undercover at The Foragers in Hove and finds a feast fit for a king
Forgive me for not getting here sooner. I know it’s been open for a year now but for some reason I have failed to run it over my gums and see if my palate salutes it. I am, of course, talking about The Foragers in darkest Hove. I seem to have had a bit of a blind spot, maybe a few people swayed me early on and since then I have been remiss in my actions. I apologise, I am here now, actually typing this as I eat and I have to say that I am already more than impressed.
‘‘Maybe I should take to a disguise, dark glasses, a headscarf, or would people mistake me for Jackie Collins? The resemblance is quite alarming‘‘
On the downside, parking here is awful, much like the rest of our city which through planning initiatives is suffering from arterial collapse. I’m in Hove but the car may as well be in Croydon. I have abandoned it and have a drink. And as I am alone, a habit I enjoy, I am indulging in writing as I go.
The Foragers has a policy of serving local food in season and using foraged ingredients where they can. An admirable concept if they can pull it off, so I am eager to give their menu a thrashing.
At the bar I order a Hendrick’s and tonic and without prompting they ask if I would like a slice of cucumber rather than lemon. Ten out of ten for attention to detail. I study the menu and I am spoiled for choice. In the end two dishes stand out so I order them and retire to a table.
Before long it arrives, and in not much more time I have downed it. I follow it with a pint of Harveys, local yes, and as good a pint of draught as you could wish for.
My first course of scallops with marsh samphire takes me back to student days summering in Kings Lynn, the home of samphire. It’s good; tender and not too salty, a lemon butter sauce is delicate and properly made and the presentation is pretty. A bit cheffy maybe but not arch.
So far ten out of ten has been maintained, and the Harveys is hitting the spot too. At this point soppy loons who will eat chicken but baulk at devouring bunny should look away. Yes, rabbit – braised and served with wild kale. I can’t say which was the bigger draw, the greens or the bunny.
I was not to be disappointed either, this handsome beast had been treated with a great deal of respect, braised long and with lots of celery and carrot to keep it moist and make it sweet. The flesh simply fell from the bones and the offal was perfectly tender and mild.
Rabbit is not a pretty dish to eat, you do end up with a lot of debris, but cooked this well it is about as easy as it gets, and it knocks chicken into a cocked hat for taste. I did have a rabbit dish once that was dainty and easy to eat but that was at Le Cabro d’Or in Baux-de-Provence and I suspect it came with a hefty price on its neck.
I struggled with the kale, by which I mean that I struggled not to polish it off all at once – god it was good. As was the buttery truffled mash, although this did, in the long term, cause a problem as the combination of gravy and potato gradually camouflaged the meat – such trials.
All in all though, despite a few lumps in the mash, the standard was being held and I was equally impressed to see that as a pub serving great food it has managed to retain a drinking crowd too. I mourn the loss of so many of our backstreet boozers to the dismal fate of failed ‘gastro’ pubs. Not here, it’s a pub serving great food and not a restaurant serving beer.
I am, in fact, having so much of a nice time that I cannot raise the energy to challenge how much of my dinner was foraged. I care not, it was tasty, fresh and seasonal. If it was locally sourced too then hurrah, and if the chef had risked life and limb in a field of nettles for any of the ingredients then bravo, or should that be brava. There’s a nice crowd in here too, well-brought up enough to ignore my constant flashing (the camera), and it’s gotten busy too. I say that with an accent, as a man at the next table is tucking into southern fried organic Sussex chicken like he has never eaten before, and I have to say it looks digit dippin’ delicious.
Excuse me while I pop to the bar in search of a pud, it’s my foraging moment I guess. Oh lord, such choices, such excesses – and all hearty too. If I say that the chocolate pot of joy that I have ordered is the lightest option, then believe me. I have no room for cheese, sticky toffee whatever or treacle tart but there is always a place in my tummy for bit of chocolate.
I remember that I was initially put off by reports of too many children and high prices but I am experiencing neither. My scallops were fat and juicy and at £6.10 very reasonable, I have paid far more for far less in both quantity and quality. Braised bunny at £12.90 was equally good value. I have no qualms with these prices when this much work has been put in. And quite clearly the child catcher has done his rounds already.
A bell in the kitchen has rung, I suspect it’s pudding. I am not hungry, in the slightest, but I have to know that they can go the whole mile.
Oh my god they can, it’s simply divine. A bit cheffy on the plate but who cares when a pudding tastes this good? I’m glad I am alone, there’s no one to ask for a taste. I’m licking hazelnut cream off my moustache and I know for sure that I have been rumbled. Ah well, at least I can tell them that I have enjoyed my dinner, imagine if it had not been up to the mark. Maybe I should take to wearing a disguise, big dark glasses and a headscarf perhaps, or would that lead people to mistaking me for Jackie Collins, the resemblance is, after all, quite alarming. Now if you don’t mind I must get on with these strawberries – and perhaps another pint.
The Foragers, 3 Stirling Place, Hove BN3 3YU. Call: 01273 733134
