Some people think it's pretentious, over-scientific, madly time-consuming, a bit weird. But "molecular gastronomy" is the most exciting trend in restaurant cooking. The term, invented two decades ago by Oxford physics professor Nicholas Kurti, is about using physics and chemistry in the kitchen - taking a scientific approach to what tastes good and why. Pioneered by Ferran "Parmesan ice cream" Adria at El Bulli near Barcelona and by our own Heston "snail porridge" Blumenthal at the Fat Duck in Bray, at its best it's like a roller-coaster ride of gastronomic excitement - you never know what thrill is around the next corner.
I am a big fan of the (officially designated) world's greatest chef Blumenthal, and have twice been driven to tears of joy by his skill in the kitchen. (Oh, the things that man can do with a cauliflower!) So when I paid a visit to Anthony's in Leeds to sample the cooking of the latest molecular wunderkind, Tony Flinn - graduate of El Bulli, winner of a multitude of awards - I had high expectations.
Anthony's Leeds location has been greeted with great hilarity by some reviewers - who'd have thought, fancy food for northerners! - but I don't see why Yorkshirefolk (and I am one) shouldn't be allowed cappuccino with our chips. As it happens, Anthony's has become so popular that it was impossible to get a table for Saturday night - for months ahead - so we had to opt instead for the not-quite-so-busy Saturday lunchtime.
We ordered à la carte, since that way you get to try the many little inbetweenies that have helped make Anthony's reputation. The set lunch menu, though, is excellent value at £18.95 for two courses, or £22.95 for three.
We started with a refreshing coconut and carrot mojito, followed by an unusual smooth cauliflower trifle with thick and tart savoury cream. The mini white loaf of bread served next was really quite ordinary, but the three butters that came with it were tasty, especially one that was flecked with burnt sugar.
As a starter, I had risotto of white onion with espresso and Parmesan air (air, I believe, being the current word for froth). It was fantastic - rich and beefy and robust - and the espresso sprinkled underneath and on top of the rice tasted vaguely like Marmite. It was delicious. My mother, who is Yorkshire through and through, had the braised pig's cheek with potted shrimps and spring garlic - the reclamation of "surf'n'turf" (fish served with meat) from its gross-out image being an Anthony's theme. She enjoyed it, but found it too salty.
My vegetarian main course was a bit of a hotchpotch, but excellent value at £9.50 - silky quinoa, aubergine chips, crispy peas, mushrooms, tiny squares of cheese on toast, bits of avocado, minute pickled onions. The quinoa, a favourite of Flinn's, was particularly tasty, though the cheese on toast was rather odd in this context.
Mum, meanwhile, went mad for her red mullet with langoustine and almond crème caramel, the flavours being unexpectedly and deliciously complementary - a key to successful molecular gastronomy, such as the Fat Duck's stunning combination of asparagus and liquorice.
So it was with excitement that we approached desserts - well, one of them was called Journey Of Chocolate. This was a plate of various chocolate fancies: chocolate pudding with a coffee jelly top; black chocolate cake; biscuity dark chocolate slice; and a milk chocolate and almond ice lolly. All gorgeous - but why was it called a Journey? It simply went from choc to choc to choc to ... choc.
Anyway, the Journey was enough for two in itself, but we'd also ordered lemon chiboust with barley ice cream and sumac caramel, which was pretty special, too - I loved the pungent sumac contrasting with the zing of the lemon.
By now we were very high. The food had been delightful, the service perfect - discreet, friendly and not annoyingly fussy. My mother hates "the kinds of places where they're always putting your own napkin back on your lap". We ordered espressos, and along came some fantastic petits fours - especially brilliant was the gingerbread-flavoured milk, presented in a tiny silver pail. The white chocolate toffees were a bit tasteless, but by then we were full of the kind of joy that no slightly disappointing petit four can dent.
The bill for all this fine food was £72, stunning value for such cooking. Tony Flinn is a very, very exciting chef - his food is not as subtle or stylish or witty as Heston's, but it has a muscular identity all of its own. Pretty fantastic, even if he didn't make me cry.
