GODDARD
& GIBBS
100 Shoreditch High
Street, London E1;
020 7613 9802,
goddardandgibbs.com
I
come out of Goddard &
Gibbs, a new seafood-
focused restaurant in what
used to be the grindingly
cool Ace Hotel — now the
marginally less grinding
but still cool One Hundred
Shoreditch — unsure
whether or not to review it.
Not because it’s dismal or
too low-key or inaccessible,
or any of the other reasons
I might let a restaurant go its
merry way, untroubled by the
likes of me and my “poison pen”
(© Big Sweary Gordon R). But
because, well, it’s fine. And fine
ain’t that exciting. Still, there’s
been a lot of hype around its
opening. Maybe it’s just me?
I’d like to pronounce it the
greatest fish restaurant in the
world. Or even denounce it with
equal heat. But I can’t. I can’t
regale you with a ripping chef
backstory, a “journey” of
tribulations worthy of a Britain’s
Got Talent audition. (The chef,
Tom Moore, ex-Ormer Mayfair,
seems to have lived a life without
serious drama, sorry.) I’ve no
idea if the clientele is infested
with famouses. Can I rave about
the vibe? Sedate and welcoming
on my visits, with lovely service
— will that do on the thrilling
front? Perhaps I can wax lyrical
about the artistry of the kitchen:
there are, yes, outbreaks of
fanciness. But will it be enough?
The menu’s contents could
probably be filed under
“crowd-pleasers”. Despite being
positioned as a fish restaurant
“inspired by English fishing
villages and seaside towns”,
there’s also roast chicken,
risotto, burger and ribeye. It
would be ultimate contrariness
to come here and not find
something you’d be happy to
eat. There’s the odd sighting ofedgier stuff — XO butter, dulse,
Scotch bonnet chilli — but
it’s restrained to the point of
shyness. Also, that inspiration is
intriguing: I live in one of those
seaside towns and, culturally,
Shoreditch is about as far
removed from here as Seoul.
They must mean Margate.
So, cured mackerel crumpet:
you can’t have a branché fish
restaurant these days without
putting something piscine on a
homemade crumpet. This one
is clunky, the ratio of fish to carb
very much in favour of the
slightly stodgy sourdough
crumpet. The topping has it
all going on: there’s mussel
emulsion, sweet and sour dill,
altogether tasting bracingly
Scandinavian. But it’s a dish inneed of fine-tuning. Oh, hang
on: update. I’ve just checked
the latest menu and it looks as if
it has been fine-tuned straight
out the door. This kitchen knows
what works. And what doesn’t.
Far simpler and more
effective is “seasonal tempura
vegetables”: a generous dish
of broccoli in such light, crisp
batter the stems rustle against
each other, savoury from miso
and scattered with chilli, sesame
and spring onions, half-Japanese,
half-homage to Chinese “salt
and pepper fried”. This must
be one of the capital’s greatest
ways to get some of your five
a day, as compelling as Wotsits.
The prawn cocktail is
deconstructed — a word that
usually has me in full cat’s-arse-TA B L E TA L K●Marina O'Loughlin
A safe harbour for seafood but it’s
not exactly rocking the boat
face mode. But this is an
improvement on the original.
I know, sacrilege. Plump marie-
rosed prawns, crisscrossed
with tangy bloody mary sauce,
are piled into cradles of little
gem, each evenly sized — pity
the poor kitchen minion with
that gig — and titfered with the
inevitable mandolined radish.
Fun, and perfect finger food.
Then divine little new
potatoes, arranged with their
tendrils of peashoots like some
kind of hydroponic experiment.
These are gnarled and smoky
from being roasted in “embers”,
and topped with whipped
cod’s roe. Dollop a sprinkle of
caviar on these and I’d be yours
for life — but sinking teeth
into them, popping throughThe most disruptive thing about
it is a central sculpture that looks
carved out of mature cheddar
44 • The Sunday Times Magazine