Art is a peculiar concept. It inhabits a higher plateau of understanding, surrounded by a pretentious elitist scene that dictates whatâs good and whatâs not. Now, I love art, so please donât take this as an attack on art per se, but when an unmade bed (not dissimilar to those found in most student bedrooms), features in a major competition as a masterpiece, you know something has gone seriously wrong.
Food sometimes poses as art and finds itself facing similar problems. Take the âGreat British Menuâ for instance. The winning starter was a BLT in a glass, which, as far as I can tell, is not at all great, nor British, and in all honesty, is barely food. It looks pretty, makes good television and perhaps has its place in some higher echelon of the culinary world, but really, itâs not for me. I want to eat my food, not just look at it.
This is why John Quilter at Marmalade in Chorlton is a man after my own heart. The concept behind his award winning bistro fills a slot in British dining that has been neglected in recent years. He explains to me that the French have restaurants, brassieres and bistros. Restaurants are at the top and designed for fine dining. At the bottom is the bistro, a modest restaurant serving good, honest food at a reasonable price. In the UK, we have the upmarket Michelin restaurant culture, but at the lower end we have brewery chain pubs serving microwave lasagne and deep fried junk.
Marmalade pitches itself as a quality British bistro. âI like to think of it as emotional foodâ? he tells me, âfood that evokes memories!â?
You canât fault him on his ideals. For too long British food has suffered from an inferiority complex, inspired by a false belief that the British donât know how to cook. This is nonsense. We have a tremendous array of raw produce, ingredients and talent, but low cost, local restaurants are being squeezed by big, corporate businesses. âThe same thing that happened with the supermarkets and local shops is happening now for eating out.â?
Perhaps itâs an advantage for an establishment like Marmalade to be located on Beech Road in Chorlton. It has a real community feel. Like a village it is independent and detached from big city life. City venues need to be flashy and bold to standout, but everything here seems more easy and relaxed. The bread is made by a baker down the road, and sold in a nearby deli. Everybody seems to know and support one another.
Quality is, however, the buzzword for us to focus on. Marmalade is a quality operation. They use quality ingredients and serve quality food. Hung around the restaurant, boards explain in detail where all their meat and fish is sourced from; quality is clearly of the utmost importance. The only thing they donât tell you is the name of the animal youâre eating.
We started with the Poor manâs Pate, which was served with onion marmalade and toast (£4.95), Pan-seared Scallops with cauliflower puree, bacon and topped with burnt butter and parsley sauce (£6.95) and Char-grilled Halloumi, on toast with homemade hummus and roasted tomato with thyme (£4.50). The pate, thick and smooth, had a very raw taste, the chicken liver allowed to come to the forefront of the palate. The onion marmalade was sweet and rich with a balsamic overtone, the toast white and cut into doorstop slices. The halloumi was cooked just right, not rubbery, but with a delightful squeak to the bite. The hummus had a sesame/tahini sapour, void of the usual overpowering garlic hit I was expecting with the tomato and thyme just simple and natural. I didnât try the scallops. I have a rather annoying allergy that prevents me indulging, but I have it on good authority (my companion, who always speaks her mind) that they were cooked beautifully and well complimented by the bacon.
The main courses shone out as the highlight of the meal. We had Roast Beef with Yorkshire Pudding (£12.95), Homemade Vegetable Pie (£10.50) and Corn-fed Chicken leg with sautéed vegetables (£12.50). (Bear in mind there was only two of us eating, and portions were substantial). The beef was cooked to perfection. Rare and so tender that it was effortless to chew. The Yorkshire was slightly overdone around the edges, but the homemade chips were chunky, crisp on the outside, soft and fluffy within, just right. The gravy was clearly made from scratch and was rich and full of flavour. The chicken just fell off the bone and tasted tremendous, leaving me wondering why I usually find chicken so bland. The vegetables reminded me of those served in Europe; a medley of new potatoes, peas, onion and sun-dried tomatoes, sautéed with bacon. The âFamousâ vegetable pie was nice, but out-classed by the meat. The filling was hot and creamy, the pastry case crisp and flaky and the cheese topping was prominent as a flavour. The mushroom was served pureed as an accompaniment.
I need a rest after all of that, but the desserts had to at least be tried. I chose the Rhubarb and Berry Crumble with ice cream (£4.75); my companion picked the Chocolate Mousse(£4.75). I can never complain about crumble. The topping was crunchy and the berries sweetened the tartness of the rhubarb. The chocolate mousse was not what I call mousse. It was more like a ganache or a truffle. Either way, it was very chocolately and rich, certainly not a light dessert, but delicious never the less.
I was so full afterwards, but we had just eaten enough food to feed a small family. What can I say? The front of house staff knew and could answer my questions about the food and were very helpful and friendly. The food was genuine and proper, no âfoam of thisâ or âjelly of thatâ fancy nonsense. Nor was it processed or manufactured. This was real, quality grub. Emotional food. I like that description.
Special Offer:
2 courses for £12
3 courses for £14
from a la carte menu (some supplements may apply)
Offer applies: Mon-Fri until 7.30pm; Weekends until 7
Marmalade
60 Beech Road,
Chorlton Green,
M21 6EG
0161 862 9665
Matt Johnson