Ben W.
Yelp
While cockapoos sniff each others' bums, the Chiswick Set gossip. "I heard The Silver Birch is getting a star". "Oh it's already got one hasn't it?". "Pisses all over La Tromp darling".
Chiswick is bursting with good places to eat but if you're a star gazer, there's only one to follow and it leads you to La Trompette where you'll eat refined French food in soft elegance.
The Silver Birch feels less elegant as you walk in. It's much smaller. They've done nice things in there but it doesn't quite manage to transport me somewhere else once inside.
Luckily, the food does that instead. Pretty as a picture each plate that arrives and wonderfully considered flavours every step of the way.
My starter of Mevagissey Mackerel (answers on a postcard please), Porthilly Oyster, Pickled Turnip and Dill looked like a beautifully hand pained Wedgwood plate with no food on it at all. Mackerel doesn't lend itself to subtlety though and congratulations to chef Nathan Cornwell for a producing one with a properly burnished skin. If ever a fish was made to be burned around the edges, this is the one and the pieces duly complied. The skin was glazed and crunchy and protected the soft flesh underneath. The surrounding pickles and sauces set the mackerel off perfectly.
Devon Crab with Pickled Apple, Sourdough Crumpets and Caviar, another work of art. If it had a pin I would've worn it as a brooch. The caviar sat in a lily pad of pickle with beads of unctuousness dotted around it. This floated on a foam bisque which hid soft crab. The crumpets gave this delicate dish substance. Superb.
None of this came as a surprise as we had already amused our mouths with the morsels they delivered soon after we were seated. So often these bits feel chucked in for the sake of being seen as fine dining. Often they are old and tired. These zinged off the plate and in our mouths.
The bread that followed continued in the same vein. Bacon bread was soft and smokey. The choice of butters felt not like overkill but like maximising our enjoyment.
Poached Newlyn cod with Brassicas and smoked Roe Sauce was a lesson in simplicity. A perfectly cut and presented mealy white piece of cod with a stark and dark fried Cavolo Nero leaf to cover its head and a creamy, oily sauce for satisfaction.
Squab pigeon delivered more of the same beauty with its plum and organic beetroot.
Puddings weren't an afterthought. Chocolate and cherry with a milk sorbet, rich and wicked. Berries with 'meadow sweet', Granola and Meringue felt light, airy, natural, good and bad for you in equal measure.
I could go on but the word count is giving me dagger eyes. Suffice to say this is cooking of the highest standard from Nathan Cornwell. The name deserves a second mention here. A quick squizz reveals he has worked at a host of great places and all his experience is being brought to bear in leafy West London. He certainly believes we eat with our eyes before our mouths and he engages both brilliantly.
And yet the whole experience at The Silver Birch doesn't quite add up to something greater than the sum of its parts. Service is attentive but we detect nerves. Perhaps they think we're from Michelin. The site is small and has been designed to be warm and comfy with lots of natural wood. The colours all work but it does feel beige. And that's because a lot of it is. Is the pursuit of the twinkle twinkle shackling them we wonder? A happy accident here or there would certainly be welcome.
Prices (my five course set menu was £97 including supplements) felt more than reasonable for such loveliness. We whisper our delight at the food and we leave happy to have eaten so well.
But The Silver Birch does lack a bit of dazzle dazzle aside from the good stuff on the plate. Too small to be sumptuous but too buttoned up charm the pants off you.
It feels a little restrained. If a star is incoming like the streets are saying, maybe it might relax relax them enough to turn up the music a little.
