Fergus vs Heston, an Epic Battle

The tired old cliché about the blandness of British cuisine is just so tired, old and clichéd. Even the sandwiches sold at gas station tuck shops are amazing. More on that in another post. But I had 2 of the Best Meals Of My Life last week in England and unintentionally created a show-down between 2 super-lauded chefs, Fergus Henderson (St John restaurant in London) and Heston Blumenthal (The Hind's Head in Bray). Heston won, but just by a hair.


At St John, the room is whitewashed and without decor, and servers wear short white coats reminiscent of butcher's aprons. Coincindence? Unlikely, since the restaurant is known for serving the entire nose-to-tail beast. The famous bone marrow starter is ordinary except for the lemony, sharp parsley salad that takes it into the stratosphere of "oh help me, that's delicious"-ness. Then there's the braised half rabbit with hunks of soft bacon and a creamy mustard-cider sauce, and the whole grouse served with bread sauce (sounds weird, tastes amazing) and its yummy livers spread on toast. Oh my.


(I know, I broke my own rule about not taking snaps in restaurants)
And the Savoy cabbage, and the simple boiled potatoes. And the Eccles cake (heritage desserts are huge in the UK right now) served with a wedge of Lancashire cheese, an extraordinary, head-scratching wonder of tangy-cheddary, crumbly-ness.

So when we get to Heston's pub (walking by the Fat Duck, his other, famouser, way more expensiver and posher restaurant) the stakes are already very very high. But oh, look how inviting the pub is:


It's the essence of cozy, welcoming and lovely and we immediately fall in love with it (even though they do not have the equipment to make us a martini). The pea and ham soup is a dream come true of fresh pea purée, ham stock and a tiny drizzle of mint oil; the chicken-ham-leek pie is a perfect incarnation of savoury pie; the oxtail and kidney pudding is rich enough to cause gallbladder failure on the spot. Even the bread and butter are so good that we can only just look each other, speechless, before devouring more of it. And then there's the broccoli with anchovies and almonds and the ...help me...triple-cooked chips.

There's more? Yes, treacle tart for dessert...gaspingly good, and then a "quaking pudding" (another heritage sweet), a wobbly warm gob of milk, eggs, nutmeg and cinnamon which could cure anyone of any hardship, plague, hangover or bad mood in an instant.


It may be worth mentioning that neither meal broke the bank in any way, and that we are already planning return visits to both, asap.