Dorian. "A neighbourhood joint for those who suck the marrow out of life".
I'm not sure I suck the marrow but I do crunch chicken bones until all juice has been extracted and I'm left with a mush of macerated bone which I have learned to deftly extract into a tissue and pocket for disposal later. Does that count? Let's see.
Westbourne Park is the neighbourhood in question for this joint. Something of a food renaissance happening round these parts. Quite right too. With Portobello to your left, Westbourne Grove to your right and All Saints Rd right opposite, it's as lively as it is monied as it is 'urban'. And Dorians is a vibe for sure.
There's a lot of hype surrounding the place. The person behind it also opened Notting Hill's version of Tesco on Holland Park Avenue in the form of Supermarket of Dreams. To be clear, there's no Value Range at Supermarket Of Dreams. Just excellent but mind bogglingly expensive produce. The staff at Dorians have all plied their trade at top notch establishments. You could gather enough Michelin stars here to open a planetarium. We're excited.
As we approach we can see inside the huge windows and it's a hive of activity. Chefs busily doing their thing in the open kitchen to the left while the plebs who could only get bar seats gaze in awe. The bar itself a monument to London/NY/Paris swag. And to the right, closely packed tables are choc full of those who got it together to book early.
We join the hubbub and immediately are directed to our...Oh no sorry there must be some mistake, we're not plebs, we booked months in advance and we've ironed our clothes specially. No, no mistake. Our seats are two screwed to the floor stools at the bar. At which point the mindset changes completely. We are no longer here for a long night of good food, steady drinking and relaxed chatter. This is going to be quick and high octane.
Two beers in and having made acquaintance with many waiting staff who introduce themselves by apologising as they lean in between us to grab someone else's order, we go for oysters, Crab Rosti, Squid, Seabass with razor clams and Pheasant.
I'm making a conscious effort to sit up straight on the backless stool. Slumping won't do. I'll be pushing my bum into the plebs behind me who haven't even got it together to book a seat at the bar and are making it as uncomfortable as possible for me in order that we might vacate all the quicker.
Plan b fully embraced we order too much wine and drink it too quickly, becoming as loud as everyone surrounding us.
Oysters as fresh as a sea daisy. Crab Rosti that melts in the mouth. Most definitely over salted, the only mistake in an otherwise stellar array of food that follows. But what's a bit of saline poisoning when crab on potato is this good? I'm shrivelling like the Wicked Witch of the West but it's worth it.
The squid is a triumph. Beautifully etched pieces of thick cephalopod, barely cooked and served with a sauce that isn't going to get any respite from the finger once all the squid is gone. I don't know if there's such a thing as a sauce chef these days but if there is one at Dorian, they are the star of the show. The sauces that accompanied the pheasant and sea bass were equally finger moppable and I'd defy even the stiffest of customers not to get right in there to make sure every drop was dispatched mouthwards.
The pheasant came with a claw. Looks horrible. But I'm severely tempted to take said claw and gnaw away. I don't want to look like a demented druid though. Not here. Everyone's so cool. I refrain. The dish was possibly cooked sous vide - how else could it come out so moist and tender? - before taking a hell of a searing on the griddle which gave it real oomph. And a creamy, meaty sauce that I just wanted to go on and on and on.
The seabass tranche must've come from a world record fish. Thick like a brick. I'd love to have seen the specimen it was cut from. Accompanied by razor clam for great texture. And that sauce again, binding the whole thing together. "Oh that is sublime." "It could do with lime?" "No, it's subl...oh never mind, just eat". We've got the rest of our lives to hear each other properly, now's the time to chow down.
We could've had pudding if my back hadn't complained so loudly and I didn't feel so sorry for the plebs behind me who were practically sitting in our stools before we got out of them..
For all that I say go with it. Go with the noise, the clamour, the jostling. Go with the one loo for every single man and woman in this packed, raucous place. Go with the fact that they all take an interminably long time in said loo but come out ever so excited by the experience. Go with waiting staff who behave like best mates and have perfected the art of leaning against youwhile they take your order to accommodate the incoming hoards. Go with it and you will be rewarded with bold, brilliant, simple food served in elegant mayhem. Just check you've got a table. read more