[Disclosure: I was sent to review Albatross for a magazine so had a complimentary meal, though not for this blog. I’ve since been back and paid in full, because it’s that good]
I’m sure Alex Claridge has been called a lot of things in his time. That’s what comes from being uncompromising, occasionally brutal, and hugely talented. I say all these as a compliment. As someone who has a tendency to people-please, sit on the fence and generally back off from awkward situations, I admire those who are the opposite.
Alex is definitely that. You only need to look at the name of his latest venture – Albatross Death Cult – that he’s opened with partner Rachael to be reminded that he takes no prisoners when it comes to chasing his vision. And it’s paid off, given it’s already been added to the Michelin Guide despite being open for about five minutes.
For those who don’t know, Alex is a fixture in the Birmingham restaurant scene. The Wilderness in the Jewellery Quarter (which I’m hugely ashamed to admit I still haven’t been to, but obviously it’s high up on the list) is a huge hit with many. Described by Claridge as “rock and roll fine dining”, from what I hear it reflects his perfectionism when it comes to food along with his refusal to cow-tow to the expectations of what fine dining restaurants should be.
Albatross Death Cult – or Albatross as we’re allowed to shorten it to apparently – has the same two fingers up attitude, doing things differently to what you’d expect, focusing on food and drink but also the fact that fine dining no longer has to follow a set of rules. The name is taken from the Samuel Taylor Coleridge poem The Rime of the Ancient Mariner – a name inspired by the fact Claridge spent a year struggling to decide what to do with the space, viewing it as an albatross around his neck.
Housed in a Grade II listed warehouse in the Jewellery Quarter, it seats just 14 people, all around what feels like a huge kitchen counter. Apparently that’s what Claridge and his partner Rachael wanted to create – the feeling of a great kitchen party and a shared dining experience, and I think it’s safe to say they’ve done that.
The menu is a tasting menu of 12-plus courses focused on seafood and coastal ingredients. The latter side of things is right up my street, but I’ll admit I was wary of the 12-course part. I used to gravitate to tasting menus like a fly to shit but as I get older I find them harder work. Too much food, too many flavours, too much complication, and a bloody long time sitting at a table.
I always remember Grace Dent describing having to return to a hotel room mid-tasting menu for a little lie down and to put some bigger trousers on, and that tends to be how I often feel. But Albatross is slightly different in that the courses are described as ‘rapid-fire and more servings than dishes. Some are simply mouthfuls, while others are slightly larger, but overall making the whole thing more manageable.
It’s served omakase-style by Claridge and his team, which means you not only get to see everything that’s going on, but it’s served to you by them too, along with an explanation of each course and the opportunity to ask questions and chat away – more akin to being cooked for in someone’s home than a formal dining experience.
The menu is set and changes basically whenever Claridge and the team fancy it. Fish, seafood and coastal ingredients are the star of the show and, like any good chef, Claridge knows when to leave them alone and let them do their thing. Bad memories of childhood mackerel experiences are dismissed thanks to what Claridge calls its ‘redemption’.
No complex witchcraft goes into this redemption – it’s just simply left alone other than being torched and is allowed to shine. Some additions are simple – peach to make an oyster really pop, elderflower foraged from the Edgbaston Reservoir added to Cox crab.
Then there are bolder flavours, many Asian-inspired, that aim (his words, not mine) to “smack you in the face like ocean spray”. Nam Jim with a scarlet prawn dish is sweet, spicy and sour all in one, hitting tastebuds all over the place like a pinball machine, while lobster comes in a fragrant Thai-style broth that hits the spot for me.
A favourite is the ‘sushi rice cream’, a smooth, sexy, savoury, umami-filled ending to what is a joyful foray through seafood and fish that is a lot in terms of flavour and dishes, but never too much, its simplicity, small portions and speed making it a welcome reprieve from the endurance test so many tasting menus can prove to be.
There’s a wine pairing, of course. But predictably it’s not a wine pairing as you know it. Sakes are interspersed with wines, bringing a whole new dimension to a wine flight. There’s nothing predictable here, including in the wine flight, with the aim of getting guests to try lesser-known producers and styles. There are cocktails too, that plays on classics but adds a coastal element in keeping with the theme of the restaurant.
It’s an experience delivered by a high-calibre team. The Albatross kitchen is led by Piotr Szpak, who has been part of The Wilderness team intermittently for over six years, along with time at Opheem, along with Oliver Grieve whose experience includes the mighty L’Enclume.
The drinks programme is overseen by wine and sake sommelier Camilla Bonnannini, formerly of Upstairs by Tom Shepherd, who is supported front-of-house by Kelly Barra, formerly of Simpson’s.
Yet the best part is it’s hugely personal. There is laughter aplenty, the chance to ask questions and chat with the team, and an informality that’s delightfully removed from that old-school perception of a fine dining restaurant.
It’s affordable too. The tasting menu started at £88 per person and is now £99 per person which, for food of this quality, is quite frankly a steal. Claridge has talked openly about his desire to keep things affordable – even if it means a risk to his own pocket and the viability of his latest creation. A commendable ambition, and one that’s so often overlooked.
There are two things that I always think put people off the fine dining world – money and a feeling they don’t belong. Albatross challenges both of those, and takes you alone for a damn good ride in the process.
