Edmunds hits the spot
Edmunds *****
6 Central Square, Brindleyplace, Birmingham, B1 2JB. Tel: 0121 633 4944
Expectation is a terrible thing because most things fail to live up to it, not least eating out.
A breathless sense of excitement, palpitations and sensual salivation are too often cruelly followed the realisation that you’ve ordered a turkey while your smug (non-paying) guest has bagged a winner.
Worse still is the mutual acknowledgement that you’ve all ordered turkeys, a gaggle of them, because the place is a dump, the Bernard Matthews of haute cuisine.
This deflating experience cuts across all aspects of human existence, including professional life, relationships and gardening.
We don’t cultivate so much as kill in our modest strip of suburban Birmingham real estate. Green things don’t wither on the vine; they never get that far.
We recently acquired three apple trees, a rose and a lavender bush to stop the neighbours feeling sorry for us. I envisaged prancing through our new orchard, breathing in the heady scent of floral abundance. This time, I pledged, it will be different. There will be life.
The Bramley didn’t make it to the Spring, the Russet looks like it has been strafed with Agent Orange (ditto the rose) although the Lord Lambourne has shown some aristocratic resolve and delivered a single fruit. The petrified lavender has that Pompeii circa AD 79 look.
Where once there was expectation, there now lies disappointment, and leaf rot.
And so to Edmunds, unashamedly Birmingham’s most eagerly awaited, expectation crammed restaurant opening of 2008. Edmunds is the second coming of Andy Waters’ plaudit-grabbing, now defunct culinary outpost in Henley-in-Arden, where this son of north Worcestershire unintentionally trousered a Michelin star.
Waters clearly felt he had some unfinished business and so after a two-and-a-half year sojourn as executive chef at Cielo he has gone all out to recapture the magic of Edmunds, slap bang in the middle of Brindleyplace.
This chef is a self-confessed crowd-pleaser, and please, I am delighted to say, he does. In fact, Waters’ cooking goes far beyond that.
And if you think I’m relieved to say that, it’s because I am. Birmingham, the second biggest population centre outside the capital, has far too few good restaurants, perhaps 10 where I would take my ageing aunt.
Auntie would be more than happy with Edmunds, which is in parts both modern and charmingly old world with belle époque flourishes.
We sat at the far end of the dining room and felt as if we were at the pointy end of a luxury cruise liner.
The whole place just feels utterly right, warm, intimate and yet full of lively chatter. When we visited, Edmunds had been open for nine weeks and it is a remarkable feat to get a place running so well in such a comparatively short space of time. Congratulations then to Bev, Andy’s wife, who runs front of house with a smiling, understated ease. The service is impeccable.
Waters says he wouldn’t have flown solo again without Bev by his side and it is easy to see why. Restaurants inspired by love, generosity and talent cannot help but exude it.
Any lingering fears – “Please, Lord, please, please don’t let this meal be a duffer” – were dispelled by the arrival of the amuse bouche, a bon bon of feta cheese wrapped up in a mini-football of the sweetest red pepper. Don’t bother trying to chop it up neatly. It’s asking to be tackled as a single mouthful of yum.
I had a starter of lobster and Cornish crab with a salad of Macadamia nuts and an exquisite spicy dressing. In a battle of the claws, the crab, expertly prepared, won hands down on swank and flavour.
The confit of Scottish salmon also worked very well, served with beetroot, goats cheese canute, sorrel leaves and beetroot vinaigrette. Whack a little of the constituent parts on a fork; introduce to mouth; enjoy.
I was surprised Sally opted for the fish. I had cooked salmon the previous week and enjoyed it, while she had grimaced. Why order it now, then? “Because you haven’t cooked it – and Andy Waters has.”
It’s difficult to argue with that. I’ll have to work on my canute, once I’ve discovered what it is.
For mains, the belly of Wiltshire pork with braised cheek and black pudding was a knockout, the faultlessly cooked meat striking the right balance of sweetness, treacly fat and early autumnal earthiness. The melty cheeks were good enough to kiss, but far better to eat.
And here’s a culinary conundrum. The fillet of Aberdeen Angus and braised blade of beef was equally good, served with baby morel mushrooms, a potato galette, red wine jelly and a superb gravy/jus that demonstrated, in a slurp, the timeless value of a classic French training.
The blade, though, was streets ahead of the fillet. This is no reflection on the quality of the fillet but a consequence of cattle DNA. Evolution, biology and basic cowology dictate that a blade braised this well is going to out-muscle a fillet, however good.
So why serve the fillet at all? I expect Waters (no doubt rightly) fears the majority of his diners expect expensive cuts.
But at £39.50 for three courses, including an amuse bouche, a pre-dessert, mineral water and coffee (the latter two of which on their own can easily, scandalously, add £8-£10 to a bill) I would suggest Waters is serving up frighteningly good value dining, fillet or no fillet. Give me a braised blade any day and keep the fillet for the footballers.
And did I mention the puds? The pre-dessert of light meringue, crème fraiche and blueberry was light and bursting with fruitiness but was almost made to look an imposter by what followed.
My pistachio parfait was gloriously green, bursting with nutty sweetness, and topped with the best sugared raspberries of 2008. An absolute pleasure.
The Bramley apple soufflé, with the deepest of blackcurrant sorbets, was fluffy enough to double as the pillow for an angel. A scoop inside with a spoon revealed that heaven exists in the most unexpected of places. Divine, and greener than the Wicked Witch of the West. If I hadn’t had the parfait I would have turned the same colour with envy.
Before the desserts, I broke with protocol and ordered a plate of English cheeses. The selection, for once, did supreme justice to the gooey joys of this isle. Why more places don’t stock cheese this good confounds me. It’s out there in abundance.
In 18 months of reviewing restaurants for The Birmingham Post this is only the second occasion I have awarded 5 stars. Which tells you everything about Edmunds, or nothing, depending on how you value my opinion.
Dinner for two, with two glasses of Perrier-Jouët Grand Brut; two glasses of staggeringly good Stimson Estate chardonnay, Washington, USA (2004); a bottle of Château Anniche 1er Cotes de Bordeaux (2007); and a glass of Torres Moscate Oro came to £156.20, including 10% discretionary service.
This is the ideal place to take your insolvency practitioner, or the girl of your dreams.
