<a target="_blank" href="https://www.corebyclaresmyth.com/">Core by Clare
Smyth</a>

92 Kensington Park Road,

London,

W11 2PN

BY NEAL MARTIN&nbsp;| JANUARY 18, 2019

The Food

Amuse-bouches: crispy smoked
duck wing, foie gras parfait and Madeira, jellied eel with seaweed

Colchester
crab with black truffle, celery and red apple

Langoustine
and veal sweetbread, fennel, carrot in lobster bisque and vin jaune sauce

Seabass
with oysters, cucumber and caviar

Oxtail-stuffed
Roscoff onion on toast, Gruyère and beef broth

Duck
and red grapes, thyme, honey and Timut pepper

“The
other carrot”

“Core-teser”
(chocolate, malt and hazelnut)

Wines

<table>
 <tbody><tr>
 <td>NV Krug
 Grand Cuvée 166ème Édition&nbsp;</td>
 <td class="wysiwyg-text-align-right">94</td>
 </tr>
 <tr>
 <td>2011&nbsp;Schäfer-Fröhlich Bockenauer Felseneck Riesling Spätlese&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; </td>
 <td class="wysiwyg-text-align-right">91</td>
 </tr>
 <tr>
 <td>2013
 Clos du Jaugueyron&nbsp;</td>
 <td class="wysiwyg-text-align-right">86</td>
 </tr>
 <tr>
 <td>2014 Vin
 de Constance – Klein Constantia&nbsp;</td>
 <td class="wysiwyg-text-align-right">94</td>
 </tr></tbody></table>In
my eyeline is chef Clare Smyth. She meticulously inspects every dish that her youthful
team prepares. It reminds me of nervous schoolchildren showing homework to
their fearsome teacher, this one dressed in whites rather than mortarboard and
gown. The inspection takes place behind floor-to-ceiling glass panels that
magnify my view into the kitchen. I am voyeur to every stir, slice and surgical
placement of minuscule edible flower or herb. The tweezers are busy today. Unlike
my imaginary schoolteacher, Smyth does not look fearsome. But her diligence is
in no doubt. She looks unbelievably… exacting.<img alt="" src="https://allgrapes.s3.amazonaws.com/uploads%2F1547846639578-core+frontage.jpg"> Core frontage 

Core
by Clare Smyth’s ambition is clear: Michelin stars – three, please. Given that
just months after opening she was awarded two, this is not beyond the realm of
possibility, and it’s a big deal on these shores. To be frank, I do not regard
Michelin as an accurate measure of quality, more a handy guide. I reserved a
table not because of a tyre company but because Dan Keeling, co-owner of Noble
Rot, rhapsodised about Clare Smyth’s desserts to the extent that life could not
continue without trying them myself. And you know what? Core is the most
impressive debut since I first dined at The Ledbury, another Notting Hill
destination restaurant.

County
Antrim–born Clare Smyth ran Gordon Ramsay’s flagship in Hospital Road whilst he
was in the United States reducing feckless chefs to tears before the
predictable Damascene resurrection and “Roll credits.” A chef as talented as
Smyth would eventually want her own name above a restaurant door, and so Core
by Clare Smyth opened in August 2017
in the former Victorian home of the Notting Hill Brasserie. The spotless
interior features white walls adorned with white bas-relief paintings, simple
polished wooden furniture and minimal decoration, yet despite the Spartan decor,
it manages to convey a cosy, lived-in ambiance, due partly to the building’s age
and partly to the clever design. There is the obligatory bar at the entrance
that leads to a lower floor, where a large chef’s table is positioned directly outside
the kitchen. The main dining area, located two or three steps up, is small in
size, with around 50 covers.<img alt="" src="https://allgrapes.s3.amazonaws.com/uploads%2F1547846671545-foie+gras+parfait.jpg"> Foie gras parfait and Madeira 

We
opt for the Core Seasons tasting menu<a target="_blank">.&nbsp;</a>We are willing
guinea pigs and, in retrospect, it is a wise decision. This Core Seasons menu
is a little more adventurous and perhaps offers a little more theatre than the Core
Classics. As you can see from the pictures, the presentation of every dish is a
work of art, to the point where I feel guilty demolishing the food with knife
and fork.&nbsp;<img alt="" src="https://allgrapes.s3.amazonaws.com/uploads%2F1547845165190-jellied+eel.jpg"> 

Jellied eel with seaweed 

As
you would expect from a restaurant of this calibre, we begin with a series of amuse-bouches. First up, two skewered
smoked and lightly spiced duck wings with burnt orange, decorated with a small
bouquet of thyme that I take home as a memento. Mouthwatering. This is followed
by two foie gras parfaits with a Madeira jelly, beautifully presented amongst
moss and holly. The umami of that jelly is extraordinary, the Madeira influence
subtle but tangible. Next, what looks like a miniature rock pool houses jellied
eel and Japanese nori with a malt
vinegar spray – a real mouth-cleanser that revivifies the senses. This may be the
prettiest dish, right out of Heston Blumenthal’s culinary imagination. I am
already deeply impressed and we have not even broached the first official
course.<img alt="" src="https://allgrapes.s3.amazonaws.com/uploads%2F1547845187092-crab+with+black+truffle.jpg">

Colchester crab with black truffle, celery and red apple 

That
comes with the small bowl of Colchester crab served with black truffles, celery
and red apple. Crab can often lack flavour, but this combination works
brilliantly, the apple lending the edge that is oft missing from this
crustacean. 

<img alt="" src="https://allgrapes.s3.amazonaws.com/uploads%2F1547845223984-langoustine.jpg"> 

Langoustine and veal sweetbread, fennel, carrot in lobster bisque and&nbsp;vin jaune&nbsp;sauce 

Possibly
the highlight of the entire lunch arrives. The one-two of langoustine and
sweetbread is to die for, served with carrot and fennel, ankle-deep in two
sauces, a vin jaune reduction and a langoustine
bisque. It is so delicious that I want to cry. The herbs, delicately placed,
set it off perfectly, and my remnants of bread mop up every last atom.&nbsp;<img alt="" src="https://allgrapes.s3.amazonaws.com/uploads%2F1547845254945-seabass+with+caviar.jpg">

Seabass with oysters, cucumber and caviar

Next
is seabass, generously topped with caviar, accompanied by oysters and cucumber
wallowing in a gorgeous buerre blanc,
which is fairly straightforward compared to the Roscoff onion stuffed with oxtail,
decorated in garlic flowers and seated on a Gruyère toast and beef broth. I
call the waiter over and ask: “How do you get the oxtail inside the onion?”
“Carefully,” he replies. Quack, quack! – next is the duck. It is perfectly
cooked, glistening pink, moist with lightly crispy skin topped with globules of
honey. What looks like a small dinghy of shaved red grapes is moored to its
side, and both are judiciously sprinkled with Nepalese Timut pepper that lends
extra bite.<img alt="" src="https://allgrapes.s3.amazonaws.com/uploads%2F1547846810345-roscoff+onion.jpg"> Oxtail-stuffed Roscoff onion on toast, Gruyère and beef broth 

The
two desserts are indescribably mouthwatering and theatrical, living up to the
promise. “The other carrot,” to give it its proper title, simply takes on the
appearance of the vegetable. Inside the carrot jelly exterior is scrumptious cream
cheese that combines beautifully with the crumble topping. It’s playful and
funny, and I’m tempted to ask for more, which would be a first for this veg-phobic
writer.

Smyth’s
pièce de résistance is the
magnificent “Core-teser.” As the name implies, it’s a deconstruction of the
popular Maltesers candy to create a dish so awesome that apparently the God
that is Pierre Kaufmann once Instagrammed his appreciation of it. The chocolate
sits on the bottom while melt-in-your-mouth malt wafers billow above like
Little Richard’s bouffant circa 1956,
feathers of chocolate having floated down on top. It is my favourite single
dish of the year after Brat’s magnificent whole turbot. Sensational.

The
sommelier team is led by the excellent Gareth Ferreira MS, ex-67 Pall Mall. Upon
arrival, he kindly pours a glass of Krug
Grand Cuvée 166ème Édition, based on the 2010 vintage and blended from 13 harvests
from 1998 onwards. It is the perfect way to begin. The nose of vibrant citrus
fruit, brioche and yellow flowers is slightly yeasty in style but beautifully
defined. That yeastiness transfers across to a weighty but balanced palate,
which offers depth and grip with a bit of viscosity, and richness reined in by acidity.
A touch of orange zest and hazelnut emerges on the finish, along with
sufficient salinity to urge you back for another sip. The 2011 Bockenauer Felseneck Riesling Spätlese is from Schäfer-Fröhlich, one of my favourite&nbsp;growers in the
Nahe. Ferreira advises that some bottles have shown a bit of CO2, and indeed
there is a slight spritz, but nothing to put you off. The 2011 displays a little
more residual sugar than expected, not Auslese in style but not far off. The
bouquet delivers passion fruit, lychee and subtle walnut aromas that are not
subtle, but clean and pure. The palate is viscous on the entry and quite weighty
at first, although the acidity is well judged, and it seems to gain more
tension with aeration, culminating in a spicy finish.<img alt="" src="https://allgrapes.s3.amazonaws.com/uploads%2F1547847109487-duck+with+red+grapes.jpg"> Duck and red grapes, thyme, honey and Timut pepper 

We
move to Bordeaux for the red. The 2013
Clos du Jaugueyron comes from the 3.4-hectare Haut-Médoc part of the estate
rather than from the Margaux appellation. The vines here are farmed
biodynamically. This has an open, slightly green but fresh bouquet, rustic yet
charming, with hints of black tea and bay leaf. The palate is light but
balanced. It feels a little angular, but I appreciate the easygoing cedar- and
tobacco-stained finish. We finish with the 2014
Vin de Constance from Klein
Constantia, which shows identically to the bottle tasted in the Cape
earlier this year. The bouquet bursts from the glass with marmalade,
honeysuckle, orange rind and tropical fruit, all beautifully defined, if perhaps
just a little waxier than I recall. The lively, viscous palate presents layers
of fresh apricot, honey and orange zest, leading to a precise, vibrant finish.
I love the chutzpah of this Vin de Constance, and though it will age, I do not
begrudge anyone drinking it now.<img alt="" src="https://allgrapes.s3.amazonaws.com/uploads%2F1547847074840-the+other+carrot.jpg"> "The other carrot" 

So,
everything about Core is perfect, yes? No. 

Allow
me to rant…

Core’s
major black mark is the markup on the wines. The list is well chosen and covers
the classic regions competently, though I would not describe it as adventurous.
Prices are neither here nor there if you are a well-heeled hedge fund manager
living round the corner, but to those that are cognisant of price and quality,
some of these markups detract from the dining experience. For many, wine is a
crucial part of that experience.

Let
me go further. If a restaurant wants to extract as much money as possible via
its wines to help underwrite the cost of operations, then I understand that. You
do whatever is necessary, even if I wish such a policy could be avoided.
However, at least give wine-lovers, not label-hunters, a few affordable crumbs.
Choose an eclectic wine region that wine snobs would avoid, a place where
oenophiles are not going to be bled
dry. The night before my meal at Core, I spent a good hour analysing the list
and found just a couple of decent German Rieslings that offer some pecuniary
respite, and morsels from South Africa and northern Spain. But for those who like
Bordeaux or Burgundy? A 2014 Puligny-Montrachet from Alex Gambal is £140 and a
2015 Bourgogne Rouge from Jean Grivot will set you back £100. You will not get
much change from £400 for a 2001 Lynch-Bages; a 2005 Haut-Bailly comes in at
£340. One can argue that release prices are more expensive than they used to be,
and that that ineluctably nudges up prices, but it is not difficult to work out
the multiples on those figures.<img alt="" src="https://allgrapes.s3.amazonaws.com/uploads%2F1547846996654-core+teser.jpg">“Core-teser” (chocolate, malt and hazelnut) 

Even
if the wine list intends to punish wine-lovers, many restaurants operate a
policy that allows occasional BYOs to regulars, especially those observing
etiquette by ordering from the list as well. Permit oenophiles to bring expensive
or rare bottles that deepen sommeliers’ experience. Use it as an incentive for
people to dine on less busy days (not that I envisage this to be a problem at
Core). Without doubt, restaurants that are flexible have benefitted both
financially and in terms of goodwill from oenophiles who would otherwise go
elsewhere. Ramsay’s restaurants have long operated a stringent anti-BYO policy
– no exceptions. That is a great shame. The best food should be partnered with
the best wine. Maybe someone ordering a First Growth because it is expensive
makes the chef happy because it pays their staff’s wages; however, is it really appreciated? Maybe that doesn’t
matter to anyone apart from the sommeliers. I ask two questions. First, how would
the chef feel if the only reason people chose their restaurant is that they
wanted to be seen dining at an expensive place? Because that is how many
approach the wine. And second, how would the chef feel if the roles were
reversed and diners had to pay £500 for a main course and £30 for the wine?<img alt="" src="https://allgrapes.s3.amazonaws.com/uploads%2F1547847009667-shafer+frohlich.jpg"> In
the end, I dined at Core for the food and forsook what I would really have liked
to drink, instead ordering two bottles that were cheap but good, since I have
no intention of busting Vinous’s expenses. Yes, the wines passed muster and I
appreciated that a couple of glasses landed on my table gratis. Yet the hefty final bill would suggest that I had imbibed grander
fare. That’s just the way it goes. 

Core
by Clare Smyth is out of this world in terms of culinary excellence. The
service is impeccable and friendly, with what feels like several waiters
permanently at your disposal. On the way home I relived every dish, savouring
every morsel one more time and wishing all my friends could have shared that
same gustatory experience. Yes, it is
expensive, but the quality is evident on the plate. (The only reason it doesn’t
deserve three stars is that Brett Graham at The Ledbury has long been first in that
queue; it’s unfathomable why Graham has not been given that third star, but
that’s another story.) But be warned: apparently Smyth has a tendency to
constantly change the menu, forever seeking to go one better, swapping and
modifying dishes, so this review might already be out of date by the time it’s
published. As I said at the beginning, this restaurant has ambitions.

Final
word: Give us wine-lovers a break, will you?<div><div><div>

</div>

</div>

</div>

Content

Engage

Vinous

Social