Um, well, no, not really.
So who is Tom and what is his Diner? And, as I wretchedly discover, after thinking up my clever and witty title, it isn't even Tom's Diner, it's Tom's Kitchen. Tom is Tom Aikens, a michelin starred chef, with his eponymous restaurant in London having a star since 2004, although he had earlier been in charge of the kitchen at Pied a Terre, winning 2 stars, at the time the youngest recipient thereof. (Wiki brutally then reminds us he was fired from same for branding the hand of a trainee with a palette knife. How Birmingham!))
So why is is newly opened Kitchen in Birmingham's Mailbox, so far from his restaurant? (Ho and indeed ho, I know, but it was funnier in my head than the page....) This is his 3rd, I think, iteration in a small chain of 'brasserie-style' outlets and the first outside London. I went there last week with a couple of chums.
First impressions good. Large opening plan room with a bar off-centre to banquettes on the right, more formal tabling to the left and in front. Whitstable beers on tap a plus, wetting my whistle with the IPA to pass my early arrival. In fact, the bar area was so relaxing, full party complete, we stayed chatting there for a full half-hour after our official table time. Our apology was met with an appreciation that we we clearly having such a good time that to disturb us would have been cruel. During this time I had seen the chalked up mission statement , a treatise on the brand's devotion to the quality of suppliers, principally the importance of well-sourced eggs and their provenance. (Is that what is called a binding agreement?)
To a table and the de-rigeur prolonged monologue around the specials and other such information. The menu mirrored more a pub with pretentious than perhaps a brasserie, but maybe that is what pubs are becoming. I had an endive salad with blue cheese and walnuts, which was glorious, my chums the crab cake, somewhat small I thought, but fine. Resisting the fish and chips, which would have been too pub altogether, I followed with a chorizo and corn risotto from the specials board. Again, tasted good and was of a decent texture, although I prefer chorizo chunkier in this sort of dish. On confirming with me what a pollock was, that is what my friends both had, enjoying it rather more than my endeavours to find a way to bring in a rhyme to this part of the review: what did you both have and what did you think of it? The compulsorily thrice cooked chips were to die for, even at about 30p per chip. The 2 of us drinking had a serviceable Merlot and we declined the puds. All in all, a good experience. Until the bill. 197 quids!!! 2 rounds of drinks, starters and mains, the aforementioned chips, some beans'n'broccoli sides and a mid-range wine. Possibly twice my guesstimate and expectation and I'm not a skinflint food wise. Well, not that much, and I wasn't even paying upfront. Good food and pleasant surroundings for sure, but this was no fine-dining. Ouch. Pity really, as it gives a bit of a lift to the otherwise wilting Mailbox, retreating, as it has, from the grandeur of it's heyday to the current rotating spiral of short term leases and brash chains, barely a notch or 2 above those in cheaper parts of town.
By way contrast, we followed on to the bar in Harvey Nicks. Who knew? That Friday night, presumably very few others, sharing the space with a single handful of punters. "Harvey Nichols don't really go in much for promotion", said the helpful barman. Beyond expressing my latter realisation that 2 martinis after a meal to be a foolhardy decision, very little to say. If you are a cocktail man, and I'm not, it's terrific.
As an afterthought, here is a Tom's Diner I would frequent:
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