AN OLD HAUNT IN GHOST TOWN

Cheshire, eh? Fancy!

Hempsall pays his own way for once and therefore has no reason to declare it in the Chimp register of interests.

 

So the announcement of cuts finally arrived and it’s not pretty. As the chill wind of recession blows through the streets striking at some, whilst benignly side-stepping others in arbitrary fashion, it’s worth noting that now, more than ever, it’s important to eat out IF you can afford it. Spending in a recession is one of the most poignant acts of altruism I can think of. Of course, if you can’t justify the expenditure then at least gather succour from your own kitchen and be sure to buy the best from your local butcher, fishmonger and grocer.
We only opted to see what Alty had to offer because Cine Hound works there and here was a means to tempt him out of his crepuscular existence for a morsel or two. The high street was a revelation in itself and whilst I’m nobody’s Evan Davis it was evident things weren’t as they should be: seven on the Friday night before Halloween and the streets bereft of traffic and people. “Perhaps they come out later like the extras in ‘Dawn of the Dead’”ventured Cine Hound. We walked past a parade of shops where the entire row of seven were not only closed but also boarded up. Apparently some chap called Bill Stickers is in big trouble. Elsewhere lay pockmarks of misery and closure.

I worked in Altrincham in the early nineties when it was a proper hive of social climbing and avarice. I stood in front of the once proud Station Buildings where I worked and looked up at its sad, dusty, tear stained fascia. How the mighty have fallen.

We wandered up The Downs to the Brasserie and studied the menu outside. It seemed to consist of fine dining tapas with a modern English twist mixed in with so called ‘classics’ suchas Croque Monsieur, Cheshire beefburger and even that late-night, pissedupfavorite of fathers everywhere, the fish finger butty.
In an empty restaurant a helpful waiter called Tom rushed over towelcome us and escort us to a table. We ordered only tapas, or from the Brasserie Boutique Bites, as the menu put it. The idea was to try as much a possible and share it all between us.
Take a deep breath: Confit Lamb Croquettes, Pork Belly with Scallops and Chefs Black Pudding, Chicken and Rabbit Terrine, Squid and Mackerel Fishcakes, Beer Battered Tiger Prawns and Crispy Parmentier Potatoes.

As The Brasserie remained resolutely empty, Tom asked whether we’d like everything staggered, to which I replied “Just me at the end of the evening, please.” He indulged the fifth formgag and said he’d simply take charge if that was alright with us. We nodded compliantly and relaxed in the hands of professionals. The croquettes were flaked balls of lamb in a crispy coating – very tender and moist. These were served with a pea puree; the whole thing drizzled in a yoghurt and caper dressing. It was absolutely delicious. Pork belly with scallops and chef’s black pudding came with a honeyglaze and mustard cream was the star of the show.

Great scallops and pork but the chef’s black pudding was stunning. I wanted to go into the kitchen and shake his hand. This man had bothered to make his own black pudding and it was as good as the best I’ve tasted, whole ears of barley visible amongst the congealed blood and guts. It was melt in the mouth gorgeous like only those first experiences can be; first kiss, first oyster, first Chinese burn. Squid and mackerel cakes were a little bland and under seasoned but came with a razor clam ceviche, which was utterly astounding and made up for his slacker partner. One of those couples that, in the end, went well together, rather like a dreary uncle and cheery aunt.
Beer battered tiger prawns arrived and disappeared within seconds, partly because there were only three, albeit of good size, but also because the batter was perfectly crunchy and light. They came with a homemade tartar sauce, which was terrific.

Chicken and rabbit terrine reminded me why I don’t like rabbit: cold and slimy yet pronounced by Cine Hound to be fantastic and perfect with the homemade piccalilli.
The crispy parmentier potatoes went down a storm… similar to that Spanish Tapas bar evergreen, patatas bravas, onlycrispier; more golden. We washed it down with a Marlborough Pinot Noir, studied closely – I could find nothing wrong.

By this time it was nine o’clock and the place was still empty. I glanced overmy shoulder and noticed a DJ booth, also thankfully empty. A nice mancalled Rory came over and introduced himself as the manager. I asked him where everyone was. “They all go to Hale Barns nowadays,” he said with a nonchalant shrug.
This is all a weeping disgrace as the food here is fantastically presented and well put together. It was sent out in the wrong order in our case with meat first and seafood after, but aside from that it’s worth you going outof your way. Five pounds per dish or twelve pounds for three? Great valuefor a chef who’s making his own black pudding and ceviche.
We walked out onto an empty street at nine thirty on a Friday night. Do try this place out please, and soon. It really deserves your patronage.

The Brasserie – 22 The Downs -Altrincham. 0161 926 8248