The Wilderness
IT’S ONLY ROCK ‘N’ ROLL BUT I LIKE IT
Click here for a more recent review of The Wilderness (December 2021)
I’ve long had a quibble with fine dining; although I’ve only recently realised my actual problem is with tasting menus. With so many courses, there’ll be ones I don’t enjoy, some that are OK and then some will be so divinely delicious they’ll just leave me wanting more and it’ll be gone in just four more bites.
There’s also being interrupted to have the intricacies of every course explained to you; more often than not, simply learned off by heart and delivered without any real understanding of what’s being said. The first two or three times are fine, but by the halfway point of the meal I’ll simply be nodding and half smiling. I am interested; it’s just too much information at the wrong time. And then, there’s also all that formality too.
It’s our 25th wedding anniversary weekend, so it’s surely time to give it another go and try out some (self proclaimed) ‘Rock and Roll Fine Dining’ at The Wilderness… in our home town of Birmingham. On their website, owner/chef Alex Claridge says “I’m not interested in making fine dining stuffy or inaccessible… I just want you to have the best possible time whilst you’re with us.” So, bring it on!
On walking in, it’s subtly lit, head to toe in black, including furniture, floor, walls and high ceiling. Its noir elegance is reflected back strikingly by the mirrored walls on each side, whilst a rock soundtrack emits from the bright, open plan kitchen, which performs as a well-lit stage at the far end. Waiting staff, also head to toe in black, ooze cool and professionalism in equal measure. On first impressions, as fine dining experiences go, it is most definitely feeling Rock and Roll.
We’re shown straight to our table and are offered a cocktail to “celebrate it being Friday”. The waiter also explains on weekend nights there’s just the 10 course tasting menu (£100 per head), so the only decision is whether to go for the drinks flight too (£55 per head). He explains—it needs to be said—rather charismatically, it includes a fizz aperitif, a cocktail, three wines and a sticky. I’m completely disarmed and just grateful he’s not selling Time Shares too… go on then.
The 10 courses on the silvery sparkling menu seem like they somehow know where my culinary G spots are; it looks like a set list of crowd pleasers. First up, the trio of amuse bouche, served individually: Cornish Mackerel Taco, which sneaked past my attention in the initial excitement of taking everything in; Lamb Kofta, two bites of warmly spice infused-minced heaven; and Sweet Chilli Squid, fabulously crisp in a mini bao bun and as delicious as a classic rock guitar riff.
The Quail Caesar splits opinion on our table as to whether it’s the right side of medium rare, albeit delicious under its crunchy parmesan crumb. And next up, lands the worst dish of the night - the Smoked Soy Cured Salmon - Wasabi, Cucumber. I’m sure it’s a fine dish in itself, but salmon is my Mötley Crüe of fish, in that it looks good but it just doesn’t do anything for me. To compensate it lands with the drink of the night - the Green Lady, which evokes more than a hint of Absinthe in its magic, but with all of it’s usual fire mellowed by the citrusy yuzu and green tea. You could take this to bed.
As each dish arrives, even with the staff running through the details of the plate with confidence and charm, my attention to the detail still wanes. As for the food itself, the Cod Satay is one of their funkier number one hits; it’s delicate perfection was the perfect foil for the quiet heat of the salty and sweet, almost camarel satay, which delivered layer upon layer of subtle aromatics that were squeaky clean and filthy naughty in equal measure. However, the Thai Green Goosnargh Chicken is an album filler and the Baby Monkfish, Saag Aloo, Goan Curry is the disappointing cover version, being far too heavily seasoned.
After 6 dishes I wanted to press pause: but no sooner had I thought that, the next dish arrived, Iberico Presa, Pork Cheek, Carrot, Char Siu. The presa being a beautifully cooked, succulent slab from the shoulder and the pork cheek is slow cooked, shredded gorgeousness in a crispy croquette style, joyously vibrating with char siu flavours.
After all that excitement, I want to treat the desserts as an encore. We ask for a break and order Tequila Martinis. The restaurant is now full, but it feels a little subdued for the soundtrack, energy and flavours coming from the kitchen. Looking around, all 12 tables are mostly 30-somethings and everyone is dining as couples; it actually feels like we’re in a Gothic themed episode of First Dates. Unfortunately, this means there’s too much of an air of everyone on their best behaviour, keen to impress or maybe just too entranced by each other in a way we once were, all those years ago. But 25 years later, we’re still rocking it.
Eventually we’re ready for the dessert finale … Milk & Cookies, which is so comforting, like the best cookie dough ice cream ever; it transported me to being slumped in front of the TV, watching a Cary Grant movie, with my pyjamas on. The Banoffee - Banana, Caramel, Miso had one foot firmly in savoury whilst the other was dancing on dancefloor to Glam Rock. And for that matter… who doesn’t like banoffee?
And then the Salted Egg Custard – Fig, Filo Pastry, but by now the dessert wine has tipped me towards being pissed, so you’ll just have to accept it was as delightfully melodic as an Eagles medley. I’m determined to leave on a Rock and Roll high, so I finish with a Terry’s Old Fashioned and call for the bill.
By the time it arrives, coming in at £349, I’m completely surprised to notice we’ve been here for four hours. Was it worth it?
Probably not, as I’d rather have a night out in London for that, but I want to go back to The Wilderness for lunch and let that fire us into a Rock and Roll late afternoon and evening.
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