Brat
Basque Country
First Floor, 4 Redchurch St, E1 6JL
£££
Blink and you’ll miss it, for on the outside Brat is just a narrow doorway which leads to a staircase above the infamous Smoking Goat. The warm wooden interiors, wine bottle-lined walls and rich aromas are the first thing that greet you on entrance. Once you’re up the stairs the first thing you’ll notice is the large open-flame grill to your immediate right, along with a number of chefs cooking very openly in what feels like the middle of the restaurant. I loved it immediately.
Brat take it's name from the old English for Turbot, which is the stand out dish of the menu. The inspiration behind Brat’s food is the Basque country’s style of cooking over fire, and this is the essence of everything they serve – from the charred greens, to the delicate fish, to the cuts of meat. Like many Shoreditch restaurants it’s dark, it’s intimate, it screams cool. However, unlike many Shoreditch restaurants it’s unassuming and unpretentious – tucked away like a hidden gem. Its modesty is further confirmed through my very late discovery that it holds a Michelin star: something that isn’t displayed anywhere on their website or socials.
Once we were seated we got straight to ordering a bottle of red. The wine list is divided into three sections: 'easy drinkers', 'the classics' and 'off the beaten path'. Whilst I like to think I know my palette when it comes to food pretty well, I’m still a little unversed in boujie wine lists. I know what I like and what I don’t in the supermarket, but I’m no expert when it comes to new names, so we stuck with the easy drinkers for safety. We decided to veer away from our ‘second cheapest’ rule and go for a slightly more upmarket Ollieux Romanis, Corbieres Rouge ‘Cuvee Classique’ (£31). It was tart and fresh, almost peppery - although I do think I prefer my reds with slightly more body. We were spoken through the menu which consisted of four sections: tapas nibble plates, the more substantial starters, the mains and the sides. Given there was only the two of us, we were advised to stick to the mains that were intended for one person, rather than the larger sharing plates (which included the famous Turbot for £130 to serve 4-5 people).
We initially ordered the Grilled Bread with Anchovy (£7.5), Fresh Chorizo (£5.5), Beef Tartare (£10.5), Wood Pigeon (£14), Aged Duck (£24) and Lemon Sole (£29), however were pretty gutted when we found out that the Lemon Sole had run out. After some deliberation, we swapped this out for the Velvet Crab Soup (£12) and the Lamb Chop (£11.5). For sides we went for the Smoked Potatoes (£7) and the Wood Roasted Greens (£7.5).
After a bit of a wait the bread arrived and it was sublime. A puffed-up piece of bubbling, charred dough, almost like an Indian puri, drenched in oil and topped with salty anchovies. The hardened exterior gave way to a soft, chewy middle which soaked up all of the luxurious moisture around it. I didn’t really know that bread could be this good, but the bread here is almost one of the best things on the menu. We later ordered a side of grilled bread to have alongside the soup, and a massive, blackened slab arrived with a dollop of whipped creamy onion butter alongside it. It would be silly to say it was the best thing on the menu, but good bread should be at least telling of any fine restaurant.
Following this was the Fresh Chorizo: four small pieces of flavour-packed, melt in your mouth sausage meat. It was lovely, I just wish we’d had more of it. The Beef Tartare came next, covered in bitter salad leaves. The tartare itself was good, however was missing the egg yolk I’m fond of, and had crunchy crumbs mixed in with it instead of crispbread at the side to eat it on. The flavour of the meat was incredible; you could tell that it was top quality produce, however this was overshadowed by the horribly bitter leaves it came with – once we realised the tartare was better on its own the dish was a lot more enjoyable. The Lamb Chop followed this, and whilst it was beautifully cooked with a fragrant seared exterior and tender, juicy middle, it was teeny tiny! One of the smallest chops I’ve seen, and at £11.5 for one it was the first thing on the menu that made my wallet feel like I was actually dining in a Michelin Star restaurant.
My adoration was reaffirmed once the wood pigeon arrived: easily the best thing we ate all evening. Shocking pink game was encased with blackened, heavily seasoned skin. Alongside the pigeon was two pieces of black pudding and some mushrooms, and the whole thing was swimming in a woody, umami, smoky, seriously-savoury sauce. An exquisite plate of winter, warming flavours. I could have eaten in 4 times over. Another stand out dish was the Velvet Crab Soup which arrived and was nothing like expected. I was imagining a light, almost transparent broth with flakes on crabmeat floating within, instead, I got a deep, dark, evil crab soup: thick and creamy with pungent fishy flavours running throughout and the surprise of a few mussels swimming at the bottom of the deep moss-coloured liquid. On top of the bowl sat a full crab, with a hollowed out head and full legs and pincers for us to get stuck into. The soup itself is incredibly filling but probably the most piquant of the whole evening: truly unforgettable.
Onto the Aged Duck, which was a mix of thickly sliced, rosy breast and a slab of more tender duck which contained more robust, deeper flavours than the leaner breast. It was served alongside some more charred bitter leaves (which we left) and some surprising yellow beetroot, which has also been slightly charred but remained pleasantly sweet. I was stuffed by this point in the meal, but this duck was not to be ignored: it was opulent, multifaceted flavour which kept providing the more you chewed. Less remarkable, however, were the sides. Some charred, bitter green leaves came drenched in oil and topped with cheese – definitely a more enjoyable sharpness than the previous leaves, however, pretty uninspiring at this point in the meal. Similarly, the potatoes were disappointing: they felt dry and shrivelled rather than crisp and fluffy. Despite having some butter on the plate, they were not aided and also needed a few lashings of salt before they were enjoyable. I managed no more than a couple of these, but I would avoid them altogether next time around. We asked for some time before we contemplated deserts, as we were both defeated by the amount of food consumed (you can probably get away with one or two plates less than they advise), but eventually ordered the Caramel Cream (£7): a simple, delicate end to the meal which was perfectly formed.
Brat is the latest restaurant I have been to that truly deserves the hype. The staff are effortlessly stylish, informative and helpful throughout. The surroundings are dark, intimate, and loud in a fun way. I usually prefer to dine out with just one other – as I get to order exactly what I want on the menu and don’t get dragged into excessive sharing of plates I’m really not interested in. However, I think Brat would work best the opposite way. It’s a place to go with a small crowd and order the staple, larger plates as well as multiple starters and sides. The beef looked incredible on the table next to us and the Turbot is most surely a must-eat. Whilst I did find some minor flaws with the menu, I now know my way around it and will definitely be back. Brat is welcoming, fresh and sophisticated without ever feeling exclusive or standoffish. It’s a lovely place to be.
OVERALL RATING: *****
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