Food & Drink: Butter me up
Andrew Kay luxuriates in a delicious late supper at Pomegranate
Brighton Festival and Fringe was a huge success this year and I had a ball, but it did seriously impinge on my eating out and on my diet. I neglected myself in so many ways that right now I have cravings in a list as long as my arm. The fridge was bare for a whole month, the kitchen became a wilderness and my wellbeing see-sawed between peckish to ravenous, stone cold sober to rather tiddly – all caused by poor diet.
It pretty much came to an end at the end of the month with one final call to the stage to see an excellent production of Neil Bartlett’s Night After Night at The Marlborough. I was with Mr R and on leaving he asked if I fancied a bite to eat. I did and I said so. But what? “Taramasalata, lamb and retsina,” I replied knowing that theree was nowhere close enough to fulfil the desire. We wandered aimlessly toward St James’s Street and then it came to us: “Pomegranate”. Hoorah, we made for it and luckily they had a table for two despite being very busy.
Pomegarante is not Greek, the food is Armenian, I believe. I really didn’t care about the provenance, I have eaten there many times and know that it is good. They don’t serve taramasalata either or retsina but I was not of a mind to complain.
Mr R said he just wanted a main course. I was hungrier and decided to have a starter, baba ganoush. Immediately he changed his mind and ordered the filo florets. We chose a modest bottle of white from the short wine list, which turned out to be very good indeed and armed with that much needed glass of corner softening comfort we waited for our dinner.
Not for long; pretty soon I was tucking into my aubergine. I love the stuff cooked in almost any way, it has a lovely creamy nature, carries other flavours well without being overwhelming, and is truly satisfying. This baba ganoush was not as smooth as some but I enjoyed the texture. What it did have was a real hit of smoky flavour and the buttered pitta was a perfect way to mop it up – every last bit.
Mr R’s florets looked like pale cigars but, unlike my baba ganoush, were creamy as opposed to smoky. He made pretty light work of them for a man who had said he was not hungry, and they were by no means small.
On then to our second course which was on this occassion the next glass of wine. The place was alive with chatter and laughter and a large table of ladies, not large ladies you understand, were seated next to us for some kind of celebration. They too were in a jolly mood so the upper room of the restaurant was a rather fun place to be.
For our main courses we had both chosen one dish but with one subtle difference. Mr R was having the sizzling lamb, so out of a need to be different I had the sizzling chicken. I know I had wanted lamb myself but the white meat is less of a gout risk right now so I was happy to change.
Both come with the same accompaniaments but at the heart there is meat so deliciously cooked that it would be unfair to not give them a proper billing. Mr R loved the lamb, it was tasty and it was tender, cooked as he likes it which is cooked rare but with an outer edge that is heat scorched.
My chicken had the same treatment but was cooked through – but not to the point of dryness, quite an art getting that right and at Pomegranate they do. The meat is all dressed with a rather amazing butter and yoghurt sauce which is gently flavoured with herbs and forms a perfect foil for the small dish of punchy chilli dressing which is served in a small dish, a great idea if you are averse to intense heat.
All excellent so far and I have yet to describe to you the sheer joy that I experience when I eat at Pomegranate and that comes from the huge flatbread that lies beneath the meat, rice and vegetables. Oh, how I crave that right now, it is so so delicious and the toasty crisp then soft thing is bathed in butter. Now I probably shouldn’t love butter as much as I do, and I have cut down on it a little, but my god, this dish would be so spoiled if it were not there. Much as I like olive oil and rapeseed – butter is king, long live butter!
I must mention some delicious griddled vegetables that come with the dish, again that perfect balance of sweetness and the bitterness of charred edges – Heaven. The rice is good too, plain white and perfectly cooked and, I supect, dressed with just a bit more butter.
We were genuinely too full for a pud, even though I wanted the Armenian cake or the stuffed figs or, dare I say it, both. In the end we settled for a sweet Greek coffee which at moments like that satisfies the pudding urge reasonably well.
Pomegranate is damned good, the service delightful, our waitress looked like a pretty young Edith Piaf and smiled throughout despite being rushed off her feet. I like the music too, and the décor… are you getting the message? I love Pomegranate.
Pomegranate, 10 Manchester Street, Brighton, BN2 1TF, 01273 628386
www.eatpomegranates.com
