The House Husband

Pork belly on red cabbage & smoked potato mash

Ignoring the poor quality of the photograph (because of low light) this was my main course last night. As I wrote yesterday, we finally went to Truffles restaurant in Alton. It has been heralded as the best restaurant in Alton. While I should state that I like Alton very much (we did live there for a bit), saying something is the best in Alton, does not aim very high. However, without this praise, Truffles also has two AA rosettes, a high award indeed. The Auberge in Haslemere had the same. It was because of this that we decided to go. Well, to be fair, Mirinda was the one who really wanted to try it out.

The restaurant is part of a hotel and is lovely. In the car park was a lovely vintage car (I’d say what model it was but I really have no idea) giving the whole place a modicum of class. And very nice it was too.

Vintage car outside Truffles

At this point, everything looked good and expectation was high. We wandered into the bar where a young barman was busy fending off a bunch of women, clearly out for a night of fun and giggles. He was completely professional, making sure we had drinks to take into the lounge while we perused the menu.

What an amazing selection! I’m afraid I had pork for both starter and main course but it was very hard to go passed the ham hock with the fried egg. I love eggs and try and have at least one with every meal. The ham hock is the ankle joint of the pig, usually from the front leg – I know because I just looked it up. My only previous knowledge of the ham hock came from a psychedelic song recorded by the band Funkadelic, in which they discussed them in connection with a bowl of cereal. And for my main, the pork belly (a personal favourite) and smoky mash just jumped off the page and held me transfixed.

It was while we were looking at the menu that our suspicions were first aroused. The prices seemed awfully low for a double rosette restaurant. The wine list was similar until I turned a few pages and managed to find the sancere which was a more ‘reasonable’ price. We ordered and hoped for the best.

As we left the lounge on our way to table 42 (the barman was amazed I remembered it and when I tried to explain how it’s the ultimate answer to life, the universe and everything, he just switched off) another group of diners were looking at the menu. One of them called the waitress over asking for some clarification of some of the words on it. They wanted to know if they could have mashed potato with puy lentils (pronounced ‘poo-ey’ lentils by the oldest chap) until the waitress explained that the lentils were the protein and having potato would double it up. I’m not sure what the result of this was as we were out of earshot sitting at our table.

The restaurant area was very atmospheric. Low lighting, flickering candles, the usual sort of thing. The room has a hint of art deco about it with those multi colour glass lamps dotted about the room. It was very conducive to a good night’s eating. Through the arch behind us, the group of women were getting stuck into the wine and were strating to take far too many photographs and getting rowdy. This concerned me for a bit but they all quietened down and didn’t really bother us. Though the barman had a hard time most of the night. Apparently his name was not Darren although that’s what was printed on the bill roll – or so one of the women said.

Our wine arrived to coincide with the other group of diners (the lentil people) who immediately complained that it was too dark. I’m not sure why this should be a problem. They had already ordered, all they had to do was talk and eat but, apparently, they needed excessive light for these task. I guess it’s important to make sure you’re not talking to the wrong person.

Anyway, the waitress suggested another table which was a bit closer to a light but, instead of following through on this preferable course of action, she turned the lights up. Suddenly any atmosphere in the room was removed and it all just looked like someone’s over sized dining room with too many dining tables in it. To be completely honest, we couldn’t believe it had just happened. Not what you expect…etc, etc.

Still, we ignored it and enjoyed our meal. My starter was delicious, although it was a bit undecided what temperature it should be. Unless indicated otherwise, I expect my meals to be equal, temperature-wise. The ham hock wasn’t the same temp as the egg and the pineapple relish wasn’t any temp at all. This makes it out to be not very nice but it was really delicious. The flavours were delicate and complementary. I excused the temperature thing and just enjoyed it. Mirinda’s rabbit was also delicious and I don’t think there was any discrepancy with the temperature.

The wine was lovely, though a few years younger than I was expecting. This wasn’t a problem, it was lovely. My main arrived looking like the photograph above. And I have to say, it was superb. I’m not sure how they smoke potato mash but it was very effective. It had a slight scent of wood smoke and tasted a bit smoky. The pork belly was perfect melt in the mouth as it should be and the red cabbage an excellent accompaniment. Mirinda’s lamb was lovely as well but she needed to add salt.

Actually, that was another thing. At these sort of restaurants, adding things like salt and pepper should not be necessary. The chef has prepared a meal to a certain degree of taste and adding anything extra will spoil the balance of flavour. However, as the barman put the meals down, he asked if we’d like black pepper. I was shocked. I didn’t let it show. And then, having tasted her lamb, Mirinda needed salt.

Mine needed nothing and was a delight all the way down. Even the fresh veg was steamed perfectly with lots of lovely broccoli and carrot.

For dessert I had a treacle cake thing in a nutmeg custard with mandarin cream, while Mirinda had the rice pudding. Both were delicious. We ended up with coffee & peppermint tea (and a sneaky glass of amaretto) in the lounge before we paid and left.

On the way home we chatted about why we wouldn’t be going back. Our main problem was the price which affected the ambience and the size of the meals. The meals were too big, the prices too low and there was no appetizer. A shame because I think the chef is excellent but slightly wasted at the best restaurant in Alton.

I have just looked up the Truffles website and, apparently we were supposed to be served an appetizer and petit fours with our coffee. We missed out on both. Also the AA rosettes were awarded in 2007-2008. I think things may have slipped a bit!

Mirinda at Truffles before the lights were raised

Two news items cropped up today which have amazed me.

Firstly, a woman in England (the Midlands, I think) was on a bus with a very young baby. The baby started yelling for food so she proceeded to breast feed it. Another passenger complained to the driver, saying the mother was being obscene. The driver then called the woman to the front of the bus and told her to get off. Which she did, having been told she was being obscene. It was pouring with rain and she had a baby and, I presume, a stroller. She managed to get a taxi home.

The bus company, as soon as it heard of this, contacted her and apologised, sent her a bunch of flowers and some ‘vouchers’ and said they would investigate. All well and good but what I want to know is who the hell would seriously think breast feeding a baby is obscene? I mean really. It’s one of the most natural things in the world. I think the driver should have turfed the person who complained off the bus.

Then again, I did see a new sign in one of our local buses recently that reads “For the comfort of all our passengers, please do not eat or drink on the bus”. Clearly the baby would have contravened this rule and maybe been asked to stop.

Secondly, the Canadian ice hockey team was told off for celebrating their recent Olympic victory. After the spectators had left the rink (note the use of the word ‘after’) they returned, drinking beer and smoking cigars, whooping it up with the cleaning staff. Clearly someone complained and they had to get all contrite and apologise. One of the players actually had the affront to lay down on the ice!

Fortunately, the IOC and the Canadian body responsible for the sport saw fit NOT to punish anyone for celebrating the fact that they had won a gold medal and have put it all down to a natural exuberance. The players have apologised, saying they realised their celebration had strayed from the dressing room and, perhaps, shouldn’t have. Very sad, if you ask me, that people have to apologise for celebrating an Olympic win.

So who are these people complaining about such stupid things? And, more importantly, how sad are their lives that they have to? I’d throw them off the bus, especially if it was raining, for being obscene and not cheerful enough.

And, thank you mum, I fixed the photo.