This month, I'm a slacker. I've been desperate to find a place to review that's disappointing so that I can slate it. Don't be shocked – there are two very good reasons for this: a) I'm not a journalist and am therefore under no obligation to be unbiased as seekers of truth are and b) anyone who knows me will tell you I'm a miserable sod, and what do miserable sods love more than slagging things off? Dubious motives aside, I can tell you right now that I didn't try hard enough. Farmer Brown's is the real deal.
It's not as if I made no effort whatsoever. I'm not a fan of anything twee, and Farmer Brown's is the very epitome of a mincy name for a restaurant. Furthermore, I went on an all-you-can-eat Monday night. As four word combinations go, All You Can Eat is buried (or rather repressed) somewhere in the nether regions of my brain that also hold Essay Due In Today and England Penalty Shoot Out. Here, however, there is a twist: instead of their usual menu being cooked in advance and staring sadly out at you from metal containers, head chef Stuart Pegg – born in Sheringham - has created the concept of Norfolk tapas. I know, I know: it sounds a bit silly. But I'm a Londoner, I like living dangerously. I skip red lights on my bike. I wear an above-knee dressing gown. And I eat Norfolk tapas.
I'll admit to being overwhelmed at first. Once our party of 13 (extra brownie points to the staff for being unflustered by our large table and the fact that we'd changed the reservation several times) has arrived and sat down, a tsunami of different sights and smells engulfs us. No sooner am I eagerly spooning unctuous garlic mushrooms onto my little tapas plate than another dish arrives – and another, and another... Here a dip, there a dahl, everywhere an ox heart. This provokes the simultaneous feelings of excitement and urgency, as if I've been given 5 minutes alone in a room with Rachel Stevens. What's really impressive is that I have the same sensation now, as I giddily type these words. Do I tell you first about the searingly hot chilli beef strips, straight out of the pan, sweet and still a touch pink? Or the game stew, boasting soft little nuggets of pheasant buried amongst a rich savoury gravy? Perhaps I should get the low points out of the way: tempura vegetables are greasy and a bit boring; sesame pork balls the same and actually quite dry inside, which is surprising, and the whitebait is hardly touched by anyone.
I feel sorry for the little fishies and give a few of them a good home. They actually aren't bad at all, just nowhere near as exciting as the katsu curry, made with salmon, monkfish and plaice. It is spectacular: subtly sweet, fragrant and meaty. Someone suggests later that this is the best thing on the menu, which is greeted by a round of nodding and “mmmm”ing. Tempura cod cheeks are a trip to a good chippy, the kind you point out to your friends as you drive past, just as you'd point out a curry house that does a cauliflower dahl as authentic as this. Cottage pie has too much ale for some but I like it – remember your student credentials guys – and clam chowder is creamy, warming and well seasoned. There's also a couple of jazzed up classics, sausage and mash and bubble and squeak,which are only easy winners if cooked properly, and these are. The sausages are herby and fat and clearly come from a farmer/butcher who knew what they were doing. Kudos to the chef for putting the aforementioned ox heart on the menu, it's not for everyone. I've never eaten heart before but I liked it – it's less pronounced than offal and not as chewy as I thought it would be, even if there are parts of the animal I'd rather eat. And no tapas selection would be complete without some patatas bravas, which I repeatedly return to to quench my thirst for chilli. New batches of any dish will be knocked up by the kitchen at your request.
The major disappointment of the evening is the fact that there is no dessert option. Under usual all you can eat etiquette this would be understandable – everyone would have felt the misplaced sense of obligation to eat so much that the prospect of pudding provoked a collective wheeze. But this is a proper establishment serving proper food, and I like to finish a nice meal with something sweet. If they can rectify this then they're onto something very special indeed here: they've already carved themselves out a nice little Monday night niche. For £10.95 you could do a hell of a lot worse. Next time, I'll be trying to do just that. I'll have to steer well clear of Farmer Brown's.
