The Gingerman at Drakes, 44 Marine Parade, Brighton (01273 696 934). Meal for two, including wine and service, £90
Some restaurants, I have concluded, come to resemble the towns in which they sit, much as owners come to resemble their pets. The food at the Gingerman, in the lower ground-floor space of the new Drakes Hotel on Marine Parade in Brighton, is a perfect expression of the town. There is nothing prissy about it, just as there is nothing prissy about Brighton.
There is a distinct cosmopolitan edge to the menu, speaking of a life lived to the full. And some of the dishes look faintly dangerous and unhealthy, but in a very good, very Brighton way. It takes a second to clock that a starter of 'rare roast beef on duck fried bread' means the large crouton under the meat has been fried off in duck fat - but the delay only adds to the effect. It's the sort of notion which sends a shiver up my spine and then storming back down my clogged arteries: soft, pink, room-temperature beef,and beneath that the crunch of toast fried off at high temperature and with the smell-memory of roasting duck. A dollop of horseradish cream, and that's the job done.
Brighton-born chef Ben McKellar, who opened the original Gingerman in 1998 before setting up this second outpost a few months ago, has a knack for getting just enough on the plate. Some chefs attempt to make their point by piling on the ingredients, so a dish feels more like a game of tag than a whole. McKellar instead goes for a few big flavours. In a starter of seared squid with black tagliatelle and Parmesan, the seafood came as solid chunks from a large and therefore flavourful squid. The pasta had that fine combination of silk and bite; the Parmesan added a lift. (Traditionally it is not added to seafood pasta. Heston Blumenthal of the Fat Duck has argued, however, that it is a rich source of natural monosodium glutamate, which adds an encouraging 'umami' meatiness to the fish. This dish made a grand case for that.)
In the main courses, just the presence on the menu of the word 'hare' was pleasing. There's not enough hare on menus these days, probably because it takes a confident hand to cook it and because the meat has such a gamey, field-and-bog flavour. Here, it was served in the Alsatian style, with Savoy cabbage and spatzle (small, crisp, handmade dumplings) on a Madeira sauce, and though some of the meat was a little overcooked, it was still a sustaining plateful. I knew I'd eaten it. A lamb dish with spiced aubergine and cumin lacked the originality of the others, but it was still well executed.
We finished with a finely judged white chocolate pannacotta and a hot raspberry souffle with a dollop of homemade raspberry ripple ice cream in the middle, which was entirely uncalled for and all the better for it. £30 for three courses seemed a reasonable sum for this (there's also an £18 lunch menu) and those prices are matched by a well thought-out wine list. I also very much liked the room, an intimate, down-lit curve in calming shades of beige and caramel, and the staff, who glided through it cheerfully, as if they really wanted to be there. For a long time Brighton has been short on good restaurants like this, preferring to make do with places which match the crumbling stucco. No, the Gingerman is not exactly subtle or refined. But, like Brighton itself, it does have genuine character, and that is far too rare a quality these days.
