Before leaving home, I tried to book two restaurants for dinner while I am here. What else does one do at night in a foreign city? Neither would accommodate me no doubt as I am a single (leaving a vacant seat) and while I usually book for two and then make up an xcise as to why I am on my own, I can’t be bothered anymore. I am what I am. Get over it. I Restaurant Andrew Fairlie because I was a guest of the hotel.probably only got a table at
In my room was a card from a nearby restaurant which the hotel were recommending for dinner. So off I went, down the glass elevator, only to discover that the Hotel Pulitzer has its own new restaurant which was having an opening sale. Who can walk past a sale, I say. Dinner is like ‘gift-with-purchase’. So instead of going out, I decided to eat in.
The Greenhouse Restaurant‘s tag line is: ‘local, artisan and seasonal products’. Unhelpfully on Facebook, it is in the category – health food restaurant which conjures up dried apricots and saffron. Anyway I gave it a go.
And I also chose the degustation menu of nine courses, so that I could enjoy whatever delights of Catalonia were placed before.
However, I was neither expecting nor was I prepared for what followed.
The weeny turnip (probably has some flash name here) was dusted with something that I trust they have in paradise because it was heaven. The slice of cucumber has spots of sauce with an Asian flavour, perhaps Hoisin? The final delight was cheese on a wafer of tortilla. Wow.
This was followed by ‘seasonal tomatos, fermented strawberrie juice, basil’. Notice the rich colour of some of those tomatoes. There seemed a lot, but they disappeared in a second. (Yes, I eat vegetables when they are served like this).
Ecstasy. Perfect. Bravo.
I have never eaten anything this magnificent.
The egg yolk was cooked just enough to hold it together so it burst open over the asparagus.
How could this be happening?
What new restaurant could possibly ascend to such culinary heights without a known and named Michelin-level master chef? – I use that term in its real sense, not like those rubbish TV shows.
What is under the crab? This was ‘Rice from Delta de l’ebre, crab, vanilla’. (From the delta of the Ebro river in Catalonia).
Sorry. I tucked in before my photo shoot. This was ‘Iberian pig “Pruma”, black garlic, crème fraiche, turnip’. Need I mention who superb this tasted? Unbelievable.
When I enquires about the identity of the chef (curiosity, you know), I was told he was an Australian named ‘Damian’. Surely not Damian Bolger, I wondered, having read that we had two restaurants in Barcelona while doing my food research. Dr Google assisted in revealing that he was, indeed, behind this new venture.
Mini turnips. A must.
Styled ‘Sheep’s milk, blueberries, pumpkin seed oil’. With meringue boards as a covering. How good can a dessert be? Very good.
One of the finest meals I have experienced.