So I ate an offaly (sorry) lot of offal the other day and while I got through my fair share of flavours and textures – I’m still not sure what I think of it all. That said there is no doubt that St. John’s is the master of all things alien looking and for that reason you do have to applaud the brand and the famous man behind it, Fergus Henderson. They create dishes with ingredients I don’t like and make them enjoyable – sort of. That’s the thing with offal, you have to make an awful lot of effort for it to become palatable to the modern Londoner and then it still never manages to blows you away (in my opinion) – so my question is; apart from thinking of waste and trying to make use of all the animal – why would you eat offal instead of a juicy piece of steak, moist morsels of chicken or skewers of succulent lamb smothered in spices?
Mostly I think it comes down to you as a person. Me, I’m all about ethics but I’m still not that great when it comes to unfamiliar textures and offal has every texture you could probably imagine. St. John Maltby is also in a very strange location. Nestled away beneath the arches by Borough on a strip which looks more like a shipyard, its rustic and full of charm – which I absolutely love. If you’ve heard of St. John Maltby before then there’s a good chance you know it because of its famous bakery (or Michelin starred St. John in Farringdon) as the bread offering, fresh out of the oven was just as epic as I remember. Thick, fragrant and with a good crunchy crust.
To get us in an offaly (can’t help myself now) good mood we started with a few salads. All the food here comes off the specials board, which changes very regularly depending on what the kitchen has that day. First out was the one dish I was sort of dreading; pigs tongue with dandelion. To my surprise the dish wasn’t anything like I had imagined – I was waiting for a medium-rare cooked prickly tongue on the plate but actually it was very well-done, a little charred and very flavoursome. Texture wise a little chewy perhaps but as tongues go – it was good. The dandelion salad was also very a nice but the stems could have been chopped in half for easy eating. Brown shrimp and white cabbage was a rather simple affair but a great plate of fresh ingredients. My least favourite dish was the ox liver with green beans and shallots. I actually love liver and was brought up eating it as a child, but here they’d cooked it to the point of it almost becoming a hard, solid pate. I like my liver soft and supple so this dish was hugely disappointing and dry.
The main and best spectacle of our meal came in the form of the gorgeously vibrant and very filling plate of beautiful smoked herring with huge chunks of sweet, juicy beetroot. I’d even go as far as saying it was the best smoked herring I’ve ever eaten – retaining so much juicy, succulent flesh. We couldn’t have visited St. John Maltby and not tried one of their most famous dishes – Welsh rarebit. A layer of thick, quality bread topped with a spreading of rich, hearty sauce and layer of strong, bubbly cheese which turned to crispy pockets over the rinds of the bread. An incredibly filling dish which certainly lives up too its fame – and the rest.
Apologies for the photos of my desserts but we sat outside on a late-tropical summer evening (September mind) and of course darkness made its way to this rustic little hideout rather quickly. Another famous creation from St. John Maltby was the Eccles cake. Here they served it with a huge wedge of mature Lancashire cheese. The Eccles cake itself was a perfect creation, filled to the brim with a sweet, dark and fruity filling. The cheese was lovely too, however I didn’t quite get the mix of both together and it felt awkward on the plate. I just wanted the Eccles cake mostly. Bread pudding with butterscotch sauce was sweet and indulgent – a small heart attack on a plate but one well worth it.
So did I like St. John Maltby? I did, mostly. But I didn’t fall in love with it. A big plus for the place is how casual it is and they truly do serve some fantastic wines with a free-flowing Wednesday offering. The problem is I don’t think I’m an offal person. I love my succulent meats and “regular” textures far too much. I’m an experimental person yes, but I’m also a logical one and eating steak seems far more attractive than a piece of tongue. I’d definitely come back to St. John Maltby for some good wine, chilled atmosphere and legendary Eccles cakes – but I might give the offal a miss.
7/10
