Chapter Two
43-45 Montpelier Vale, SE3
What can I say about Chapter Two that most people don't already know?
If you're a fan don't bother reading any more of this entry - I'll be telling you nothing new. If you don't know the place, read on.
Chapter Two is the sister restaurant of Chapter One in Locksbottom which has a Michelin star, but some I've spoken to actually prefer the Blackheath version. I can't say - I've not been to Ch1 (yet...)
The two don't share an exec chef. While Andrew McLeish resides at Ch1, Trevor Tobin is CH2's chef and he has designed a Modern European menu ( I call it 'small food') that includes a mix of seasonal and classic dishes, all beautifully presented (miniature piles of food, exquisitely arranged with dibs and dribs of sauces in artistic patterns) but inexplicably filling.
What I like about the way these foods are balanced is that when they arrive, they don't look much. They're pretty enough, but don't look like they're going to satisfy. However, they are cleverly assembled so that they have a filling effect despite their size.
Here's an example. I ordered the mackerel as a starter. It looked lovely - a small, rich, pan-fried slab balanced on something with an interesting pattern of something else arranged as a sauce. The something that the mackerel was balanced on was, I believe, based on Puy lentils and the sauce a reduction of aubergine. All three of these ingredients are rich and filling on their own. They arrived on my plate in exactly the right amounts to take up exactly the right amount of room in one's stomach, to appetize, but leave room for the main course.
My companion's Pea Veloute was even more unpromising to start with - a tiny lump of fried haddock balanced on top of mushy peas (I think they might have called them 'crushed' - that's posh restaurants for you...) But as the waitress poured the bright, spring-green veloute around the haddock, it created a fabulous-looking dish - as well as a small theatrical experience.
The red onion tatin I chose as a main fulfilled a similar function - as much a feast for the eye and nose (and ear - the crackle as my knife pierced the outer layers sends a frisson of anticipatory excitement up the spine) as the mouth. Delicate flavours of baked onion with overtones of pastis and roasted salsify went a long way to the slight disappointment I felt as I reluctantly bit into the last mouthful, but once again, Tobin's expertise in knowing exactly how much to supply on a plate was almost perfect.
I say 'almost' because, in the absolute perfect world of the chef's expertise, one would actually be able to manage a pudding too. Sadly, there just was no way I was going to be able to fit in any more, but we studied the dessert menu anyway. I suspect we may have studied it a little too much, since it was an absolute delight - a nit-picker's feast of grammatical error - spelling mistakes, wandering apostrophes, typos - you name it, it was here. Not something one would expect from a place as smart as this (though admittedly I had not noticed similar howlers on the main menu.)
The desserts themselves, however, looked divine. For once not relying heavily on chocolate as an ingredient (just two of the options included it, which was a welcome relief for me. I love chocolate - but not at the exclusion of anything else, and frankly after a meal, I usually prefer something a little lighter.) I was particularly attracted by the delightfully old-fashioned lemon posset and the baked vanilla yoghurt with rhubarb. Some of the dessert wines also looked fabulous.
In fact the wine list as a whole was excellent. There wasn't a sommelier in sight when we went, but there was a condensed 'sommelier's choice' list on the wine menu, which included some superb bottles, including Decanter award winners.
The decor has a smart, 1990s feel to it - if it doesn't hail from then, it certainly feels like it - but that's not necessarily a bad thing. It's in no way anything other than immaculate - wooden floors, dark blue high-back chairs, lots of white linen. The smoked mirrors do a great job of making the place look richer - and larger - than it actually is - they work especially well downstairs in the much larger space (more room, no natural light, so better for winter meals.)
The service is friendly. The waitresses spoke a little more English than in most places around here, but ours still had to get the manager to answer an extremely basic question about the menu.
The prices aren't cheap, but they are good for what you get. You're expected to have at least two courses, though you could either choose a starter or a dessert as your second choice. Presumably if you have a large appetite you could have a third, too. Main courses are £ 12.95, starters and puds roll in at £ 5.50 each. On Friday and Saturday evenings you have to have the special deal at the special price of £ 24.50 for three courses.
We return to Chapter Two on an irregular-but-always-much-anticipated basis.
www.chaptersrestaurants.com
What can I say about Chapter Two that most people don't already know?
If you're a fan don't bother reading any more of this entry - I'll be telling you nothing new. If you don't know the place, read on.
Chapter Two is the sister restaurant of Chapter One in Locksbottom which has a Michelin star, but some I've spoken to actually prefer the Blackheath version. I can't say - I've not been to Ch1 (yet...)
The two don't share an exec chef. While Andrew McLeish resides at Ch1, Trevor Tobin is CH2's chef and he has designed a Modern European menu ( I call it 'small food') that includes a mix of seasonal and classic dishes, all beautifully presented (miniature piles of food, exquisitely arranged with dibs and dribs of sauces in artistic patterns) but inexplicably filling.
What I like about the way these foods are balanced is that when they arrive, they don't look much. They're pretty enough, but don't look like they're going to satisfy. However, they are cleverly assembled so that they have a filling effect despite their size.
Here's an example. I ordered the mackerel as a starter. It looked lovely - a small, rich, pan-fried slab balanced on something with an interesting pattern of something else arranged as a sauce. The something that the mackerel was balanced on was, I believe, based on Puy lentils and the sauce a reduction of aubergine. All three of these ingredients are rich and filling on their own. They arrived on my plate in exactly the right amounts to take up exactly the right amount of room in one's stomach, to appetize, but leave room for the main course.
My companion's Pea Veloute was even more unpromising to start with - a tiny lump of fried haddock balanced on top of mushy peas (I think they might have called them 'crushed' - that's posh restaurants for you...) But as the waitress poured the bright, spring-green veloute around the haddock, it created a fabulous-looking dish - as well as a small theatrical experience.
The red onion tatin I chose as a main fulfilled a similar function - as much a feast for the eye and nose (and ear - the crackle as my knife pierced the outer layers sends a frisson of anticipatory excitement up the spine) as the mouth. Delicate flavours of baked onion with overtones of pastis and roasted salsify went a long way to the slight disappointment I felt as I reluctantly bit into the last mouthful, but once again, Tobin's expertise in knowing exactly how much to supply on a plate was almost perfect.
I say 'almost' because, in the absolute perfect world of the chef's expertise, one would actually be able to manage a pudding too. Sadly, there just was no way I was going to be able to fit in any more, but we studied the dessert menu anyway. I suspect we may have studied it a little too much, since it was an absolute delight - a nit-picker's feast of grammatical error - spelling mistakes, wandering apostrophes, typos - you name it, it was here. Not something one would expect from a place as smart as this (though admittedly I had not noticed similar howlers on the main menu.)
The desserts themselves, however, looked divine. For once not relying heavily on chocolate as an ingredient (just two of the options included it, which was a welcome relief for me. I love chocolate - but not at the exclusion of anything else, and frankly after a meal, I usually prefer something a little lighter.) I was particularly attracted by the delightfully old-fashioned lemon posset and the baked vanilla yoghurt with rhubarb. Some of the dessert wines also looked fabulous.
In fact the wine list as a whole was excellent. There wasn't a sommelier in sight when we went, but there was a condensed 'sommelier's choice' list on the wine menu, which included some superb bottles, including Decanter award winners.
The decor has a smart, 1990s feel to it - if it doesn't hail from then, it certainly feels like it - but that's not necessarily a bad thing. It's in no way anything other than immaculate - wooden floors, dark blue high-back chairs, lots of white linen. The smoked mirrors do a great job of making the place look richer - and larger - than it actually is - they work especially well downstairs in the much larger space (more room, no natural light, so better for winter meals.)
The service is friendly. The waitresses spoke a little more English than in most places around here, but ours still had to get the manager to answer an extremely basic question about the menu.
The prices aren't cheap, but they are good for what you get. You're expected to have at least two courses, though you could either choose a starter or a dessert as your second choice. Presumably if you have a large appetite you could have a third, too. Main courses are £ 12.95, starters and puds roll in at £ 5.50 each. On Friday and Saturday evenings you have to have the special deal at the special price of £ 24.50 for three courses.
We return to Chapter Two on an irregular-but-always-much-anticipated basis.
www.chaptersrestaurants.com
Labels: Eating Out, Not-Quite-Greenwich
posted by The Greenwich Phantom at
08:42
9 Comments:
We're fans of Chapter Two, although we don't get to visit that often. As with many restaurants, if you can go at lunchtime you will get better value. Keep you eyes open for their £10 lunch deal which seems to come round every now and again.
Definitely something to look out for. We had a smile at the idea of "Gourmet Evenings" - the only time that we'd ever heard that phrase before was in Fawlty Towers. Tee hee...
The adjacent cafe serves inconsistent coffees with the friendliest smiles in Blackheath. Nearby Montpelier's has much better coffee, but cold, unsmiling service. When the lady at Ch2 anticipates my whole party's coffee orders, it's hard to go anywhere else.
As the sort of phantom who likes to string things out, I'm reserving my review of the cafe next door for another day. But truth be told I think you already have hit the nail on the proverbial head.
I'm a fan of the place too and like it best at lunch time having taken the afternoon off.
Last time I was there I had some delicious ox tongue.
I also remember deciding to finish off with a "French coffee", which was described on the menu as being laced with Courvoisier cognac. After waiting a while I reminded the waitress that my coffee hadn't yet arrived. "Sorry - it was with Napoleon brandy wasn't it?"
Ooops.
Not that I could claim to be able to tell the difference from within a cup of coffee ..
I confess I wouldn't know either. On the other hand I would always prefer the two separately anyway.
I had an awful time at Chapter Two before Christmas. My dish was so cold that the sauce had a film over it. When I brought this to the attention of the staff they were very sniffy. Top add insult to injury the bill was riddled with hidden charges. My advise is avoid at all costs until they improve their food, service and prices.
Sadly, this restaurant is nothing of it's old self. We have been eating there since it opened. But, the food and service has been going down for the last year or so. After our last visit on Sunday I can honestly say I will not be recommending or returning to Chapter Two.
David B
Given what seemed like positive reviews, we were keen to give Chapter Two a try.
While competent, the food is really nothing to shout about (We had first and main courses, and a bottle to wine).
What made our visit ten times worse (and what compiled me to write about our experience) was the APPALLING service and disastrous harassment by a sorry excuse of a manager.
I had ordered the pork belly with cabbage, and found it overwhelmingly (make that heart-stoppingly) salty. To set the record straight, I LOVE savoury food, and can happily wolf down a stack of bacon twice a day no problems - my salt tolerance is, by own admission, above average by a wide margin.
Yet, even with copious amounts of water to help, I could not even finish half the dish even though I was ravenous. IThat was how bad it was. I asked my husband - an accomplished French chef by training with a truly global palate too boot - to try it. He agreed completely that it was way, way, way too salty.
When the waiter came to take our plates away, she noted my unfinished food and asked if everything was alright. I smiled and simply give her my comment on that one dish. She did the right thing by offering to get me something else, and when I said it was okay I didn't want anything else, graciously left it there.
She handled the situation impeccably.
Before I could take another sip of the wine, the manager came charging over and DEMANDED to know what was wrong with HIS dish. I repeated myself and added that perhaps I would order something else on the next meal there (I'd not given up yet).
He did NOT like my answer and continued to badger us, basically insinuating that we didn't know "high-class" food in the most condescending tone he could muster. The other diners were by then hooked on his public tantrum and our public persecution. By now, I'd lost interest in the wine and the restaurant.
So, did he stop? Nope. Before we could pay the bill, he returned to give us another public lecture about how the dish is made!!!!
The lesson here is that you can't always win EVERYONE, EVERY NIGHT. If you can't heck that basic idea, you're in no position to overlook a restaurant floor.
Some days, even regulars will find the odd thing that they are not so fond of. They would/might still come back; newbies who didn't like one dish are often willing to return and give the place another go.
However, if you harass your customers and browbeat them because your ego cannot take a little constructive comment, then you really are doing the restaurant a massive disservice.
I was honestly happy to go back and try the other stuff, but thanks to this manager's cluelessness and utter lack of grace, I will never step in Chapter Two again.
Even if everything else is divine, you couldn't pay me to go back.
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