[Disclosure: We paid in full at Shell Bay. They didn’t know I was a blogger]
As beautiful settings go, Shell Bay has it all. From its full length glass windows you can look out at swanky sailing boats, pretty blue water on a good day, and see across to the picturesque National Trust-owned Brownsea Island. If you’re in the right spot you might even spot the reason Shell Bay is what it is – the affluent seaside spots of Poole Harbour and Sandbanks.
It’s been named as one of the best places to eat seafood by The Times, and when I asked for Dorset recommendations, it popped up more than once. A shoe-in for lunch on a visit to the area, obviously.
With a target market of some of the richest people in the UK, it’s no wonder this seafood restaurant and bistro perched on the edge of the Isle of Purbeck has a slick feel, a chic appearance and menu prices to match. You’re not just paying for the extensive array of seafood dishes that make up that menu – you’re paying for the setting, the aspiration and the style.
We arrive after a jaunt across the rather choppy water (don’t worry, you don’t have to do a Swallows and Amazons impression to get to Shell Bay, you can just drive) but the sight of two bedraggled humans accompanied by two rather large salty sea dogs doesn’t seem to faze the staff.
There’s an informal but efficient feel to the service that has a glass of English fizz in my hand before I can worry too much about the drips of water gathering under my chair, instead focusing on ‘that view’ out onto the water and the menu of fishy delights in front of me.
We start with thick slabs of a great example of a sourdough smothered in the obligatory Ampersand cultured butter that appears everywhere these days – for good reason in my humble opinion since it’s highly addictive. ‘Mammoth gordal olives’ more than live up to their name – fat, succulent and fruity as we munch through them like unripened plums.
The menu is a showcase of different fish – some local, some less so, but all with a description that suggests ambition and a desire to impress. Starters are a mix of dishes that can be ordered as individual shellfish or crustaceans and more convention set-priced dishes, but I like the fact you can have as much or as little as you want.
I opt for Argentinian Scarlet Prawns. Two of them at £4.50 each – a not unreasonable £9 charge for a starter in a place where a main course will set you back somewhere between £22 and £35. The prawns themselves are meaty and cooked well.
They come with a chilli and garlic butter that’s melted in a pot and good for dipping them into once peeled, but better for dipping that sourdough into. They’re good, but slightly underwhelming. Maybe it’s me – after all, I’ve just battled possible drowning to get here.
Jamie goes for the opposite of my simple starter. Sashimi-grade Yellowfin Tuna Tartare with soy cured mackerel, mangetout and wakame seaweed and cashews. That’s not my description, that’s the full menu listing, in case you were concerned that there weren’t enough elements to the dish.
It looks beautiful, and we’re excited to try what might be the best tuna I’ve had (apart from a work trip to Tokyo, which I don’t think anywhere could top). But the flavours are as busy as the description.
In contrast to my prawn starter, there is a hell of a lot going on but unlike the harmonies of a decent choir, it’s more like the discordance of the karaoke attempt I made on that same work trip to Tokyo. There’s soy, salty seaweed, hits of ginger. The tuna’s there somewhere, but its flavour is upstaged by everything else in the same way that its appearance is hidden by the mackerel perched on top.
My mackerel main course, chosen from a list of fish (plus a steak for those who go to a seafood restaurant without liking fish) cooked ‘from the fire with choice of sauce’, followed by starter in simplicity terms. I had hoped it would be simple. Because what could be better than having two local mackerel, cooked over fire, in a stunning setting? Possibly being able to have them at slightly less than £27. But hey, we’re playing with the rich kids now, so this is par for the course.
Those two mackerel are bigger than average, and they’ve been cooked well, right down to the torched skin and the ‘green sauce’ that’s packed with herbs and lifts the otherwise simple fish brilliantly.
There are no sides. You have to order these separately (for £5 or £7 ). But the crispy Jerusalem artichokes smothered in parmesan shavings, chives and truffle oil are the best decision we make all day.
Jamie goes for the Kerala seafood curry, a hearty bowl of aromatic spiced fish and seafood that’s perfect for when you’ve just enjoyed a soaking from some of Poole Harbour’s finest waves. It’s packed with seafood and well spiced, delivering on a slow-burning heat that’s noticeable without being enough to put off the milder mannered among us. And it comes with basmati rice which means its price tag stays at £27 and isn’t tipped over the £30 mark by a side or two.
We decide against dessert, opting instead to enjoy the view with a glass of Dutch Courage (otherwise known as wine) for the journey home. It really is a stunning setting, that’s indisputable. The casual outdoor area is no doubt a fun place to be on a hot hot day, while the restaurant does that wonderful thing that coastal places often do of feeling a bit special without being too formal and stuffy.
The food is pretty good, and I know plenty of people who have raved about it. I just couldn’t help but feel a tiny bit underwhelmed. Perhaps it’s that view that makes you expect everything else to be out of this world. Perhaps it’s the price tag. Yes, it’s not as expensive as some other places, but it is much more pricey than others in which I’ve had better, more memorable food. Places that had me firmly convinced as I left that the sacrifice was worth it. And I’m just not quite sure I can say the same here.
[Disclosure: We paid in full at Shell Bay. They didn’t know I was a blogger]
