If you turned up at a restaurant and were told that, rather than sampling the a la carte, table d’hote or whatever you’d expected to eat, the chef had prepared you a special menu of the specialties of the house, what would you say? I have the feeling that this is one of those Rorschach tests that end up being far more revealing about individual characteristics than anticipated.
Some people would probably love the idea of putting the next two or three hours in someone else’s hands, cooing and applauding at each new culinary flourish. Others, meanwhile, would shudder at the idea of not being able to choose. What if they were served something unspeakable?
I’m somewhere in between, as in most things in life, so it was with great interest and not a little anticipation that I turned up at The Campaner, a new Spanish restaurant in the Garrison Square area of Chelsea. The restaurant, a British offshoot of a Barcelona group, is set in a glossily expensive part of London that is home to the idle rich (or just the plain idle), and the greeting is warm, if slightly surprised, although the reservation’s clearly marked.
We order a couple of cocktails, a fruity, refreshing ‘Pineapple Express’, and an eyewateringly strong ‘A Seductive Dream’ – not much seducing going on after many of those, let alone dreaming – and ask for a few snacks; a couple of oysters, some pan con tomate, a couple of croquetas, and padron peppers. Then we’re told about the chef wanting to give us a special menu, and the fun begins.
Over the next few courses, I eat some of the best things I’ve had all year, and a couple of the most perplexing. The oysters are sensational, the padron peppers moreish beyond imagination and the bread, from local (imported) heroes Pôlaine, wonderful. Yet the croquetas are oddly underwhelming and the next course, a seafood salad, is positively duff, being far too sharp and acidic to be able to enjoy. It returns to the kitchen virtually uneaten, and I start to wonder what’s coming next.
We soon have our answer. The grilled octopus is done perfectly, with just the right amount of charring, and the asparagus with romesco sauce that comes as a side is just as good. The only slight let-down here are the potato discs, which taste flabby and undercooked and unseasoned. Then I’ve heard tell that the rice here is the signature dish, and I’m excited to try the Iberian pork variety, which comes garlanded with padron peppers.
I’m more impressed by it than my dining companion, who pronounces the pork tough and the rice without flavour; I think it’s punchy and paprika-y, although lacking the crunch that the socarrat at the bottom should have. We’ve had all this firstly with a glass of white Rioja apiece, then a glass of red Rioja. We would have delved into more varied territory, but our first waiter seemed nervous and not especially well versed in English, so it seemed safest to stick to the old favourites.
Dessert may have been the highlight – the flawless crema catalana is a thing of beauty, and the flan with whipped cream is utterly sensational – and so, replete if slightly baffled, we head off on our way again. There’s no doubt that The Campaner is capable of greatness, and, with its chi-chi Chelsea setting, it’s going to pull in the punters. But a little more consistency would be extremely welcome if it’s going to hit the heights it merits.
The Campaner, Chelsea Barracks, Block 10 – 1, Garrison Square, London SW1W 8BG. For more information, and for bookings, please visit www.thecampaner.com.
