Neil Sowerby visits Ramsons restaurant in Ramsbottom and finds the window display may have changed but the gourmet voyage of discovery inside is more delectable than ever.
Selective quoting is the bane of many a criticâs life. Itâs more a problem with theatre reviews tweaked out of context â the sort of audience hoodwinking that led the EU to introduce legislation criminalising the practice. Good to see them branching out from ruling on how bent bananas should officially be.
One naughty cut and paste example? A West End revival of Saturday Night Fever trumpeted on its billboard: âAn all-out retro romp â The Timesâ. Lifted from âIf itâs an all-out retro-romp you want, this only fitfully deliversâ. Quite misleading, youâll agree.
Restaurants, of course, donât sport billboards. Those with laminated, lurid pictures of the dishes outside are better off avoided. Ditto pubs proclaiming in olde scripte âa welcoming trad British boozer serving piping hot roasts all day from a custom-built carveryâ.
But in the interests of self-publicity even the poshest restaurants pin up favourable reviews next to framed awards, even if itâs only in the corridor leading to the loos. And, of course, those new-fangled websites can be an ossified repository for what one man said about one meal on one occasion quite a long time ago. Usually, in full, though.
So I wasnât miffed to see that Ramsonsâ ebullient proprietor Chris Johnson (or as one national food hack called him the other day, Chris Ramson, so closely is he identified with the place) had removed an old review of mine from the window. In my place the Financial Timesâ Nick Lander was equally enthusiastic about this beacon of fine dining for a quarter of a century, which was named Good Food Guide readersâ favourite restaurant the year before last.
I did miss the lovely picture of Chris that accompanied my piece. Like the Phantom of the Opera on the poster for sequel Love Never Dies (But Tunes Do), it is a timeless image of Chris in his foragerâs hat off to pick nettles, sweet cicely and wild garlic (ramsons) in the woods.
The wild garlicâs not in season yet, but Chrisâs first rate suppliers, including Cliftons organic farm near Inglewhite and the mighty Milan market, were very much in evidence on the lunch list. Our only regret? We had no time to sample chef Abdulla (Naz) Naseemâs tasting menu (ten dishes for £50 at midweek lunch, rising to £78 for a table of six to eight folk on Saturday evening).
But even a simple lunch swells into an occasion in the two Italian-influenced (decor and food) dining rooms that have come a long way since the days when Chris and his wife Ros created the pioneering village restaurant in a pair of knocked-through cottages. A glass of sparkler, proper bread and olive oil are with us in a trice. A deep-fried pigâs cheek ball with piccalilli amuse bouche is dainty.
Extra plates will accompany each course, so we can share and we let Chris pick a wine by the glass from his exclusively Italian list, because thatâs part of the thought-through Ramsons experience.
Heâs partial to wines low in alcohol and sulphites that donât leave you with a headache and, if thereâs occasionally a fizzy dullard like the Barbera di Montefalco â chosen to handle the beetroot in an appetiser here â there is always ample compensation, in this case benchmark acacia-scented Soave Classico from Balestri Valda and, among the reds, a cherryish Villa Spinosa Valpolicella Classico. Both a world away from the thin examples that lurk on pizzeria wine lists.
Another Chris quirk is to serve vegetables or a salad separate before the main course, as an aid to digestion, which I think works. Our intermission simple green salad was sublimely dressed with a local honey dressing. But before that we had encountered similarly joyous appetisers and first courses from a menu that prices at £36 a head for four courses down to £13.50 for a light lunch (first course and pudding). Thereâs also a loyalty voucher system that can knock up to £9 off a meal for regular customers.
The wood-roasted beetroot was deliciously smoky but didnât overpower its goat cheese partner, while the seared Shetland scallops with apple puree and a julienne of the same fruit were sensationally simple. Accompanying apple is the ultimate test of a fresh scallop, Chris explained, and these passed.
The kitchen is proud of its way with natural English rose veal, reared by young Tom Parkinson from Jersey male cattle up at the family dairy farm at Inglewhite, north of Preston. Iâm inevitably drawn to it slow-cooked as a main, but with lamb and turbot making their advances this noontide we sampled it as âcornedâ filling of cannelloni given the tomato sauce and deep fried sage â which calms the assertiveness of the herb â treatment.
Chef Naz may hail from the Maldives but heâs half Milanese by now on the evidence of this and our other first course - carnaroli rice risotto with prawns and tomato sauce again. Both dishes were served admirably by the delicately fresh Valpolicella.
The main courses lifted it up a gear to show why this kitchen in recent years has won more plaudits than thereâs space to mention. If I marginally preferred Welsh lamb from St Asaph, two ways, the loin roast, the breast slow-cooked, pea puree, redcurrant and mint sauce, thereâs no slight on the pan-fried fillet of turbot with celeriac puree, sauteed spinach, tomato fondant and prosecco cream sauce. A Grai Pinot Bianco from Alto Adige in the far far north east seemed much more at ease with both dishes than our red.
Puddings were a mite rushed because this âdefinitely not the tasting menu today, Chrisâ had taken a little longer than we had imagined thanks to the revelatory magical mystery wine tour. Hot Amedei chocolate fondant, with the perfect dark spicy melt in the middle, and the right degree of firmness (thanks to fish gelatine) in the panacotta with its raspberry puree rounded off a great lunch.
No sign of standards slipping here. And those standards are amazingly high.
Ramsons, 18 Market Place, Ramsbottom
T: 01706 825070
W: www.ramsons.org.uk