Have you ever had that feeling when everything was going swimmingly well and then, just when you least expected it, the rug was pulled abruptly and uncomfortably from under your feet? The experience of dining at Clare Smyth’s second London restaurant – open for only two months, as we were regularly reminded – felt unfortunately like this.
It all started so encouragingly. Gourmand Gunno and his dining comrade were welcomed into the restaurant with open arms. The front of house knew we were regular diners at Clare’s flagship venue, Core. Many of the team from her first venture have moved over to Corenucopia to help it get started. There was comfort in familiarity. We were shown to a beautiful corner table and took time to appreciate the aesthetic. It feels like a very posh, but very pleasant London townhouse. The antique artworks give the venue a heritage feel and the hues of green and gold evoke both opulence and nature – or perhaps a cornucopia of abundance. The Sommelier brought us both a glass of our favourite rosé non-vintage champagne (Billecart-Salmon). After a toast and a few moments of conversation, it all sadly went downhill.
Corenucopia was never intended to be a replica of Core. Three Michelin stars are hard to come by. Clare’s latest offering is all about British comfort food, albeit elevated for the mid-2020s and with correspondingly elevated prices. It’s exactly the same angle adopted by Lisa Goodwin-Allen at Rosi in the Beaumont Hotel. At Corenucopia, there are some clever twists. A dedicated ‘potato menu’ in a gilt frame is placed on each table. This acknowledges Clare’s Irish roots and shows how the humble tuber can be given new life in talented hands.
Beyond potatoes, there are no shortage of options. Guests are encouraged to begin with a snack (of which there are five), proceed to a starter (choose from eight) and then progress onto a main (a range of twelve). One thing that your reviewer and his dining comrade loved about Core was that vegetarians were treated like proper dining citizens; no afterthought and entitled to a full tasting menu without compromise. It was with this premise that we booked Corenucopia. Alas, to snack, a vegetarian must have bread. They are then forced to eat a leak vinaigrette followed by a mushroom pie. There was certainly no abundance of choice here.
When we raised the issue of inevitable disappointment on the part of my vegetarian comrade, the excuse proffered was that the venue had only recently opened and that the kitchen were still “working on” alternative dishes. Fair? One might be inclined to disagree, given the experience of the team. After a bit more probing, Corenucopia compromised: eel was removed from the olive snack, an endive salad side got promoted to a starter and a spelt main was somehow conjured up. It felt like a pyrrhic victory.
What we ate was good but far from genuinely outstanding. Some of the sparkle may have come off the evening by this stage, but it’s difficult to enthuse almost anyone about spelt, ever. The vibe was not improved by the inconsistent delivery from the servers. Starters were placed on the table with one hand while our snack plates were removed by the other. Conversely, the gap between mains and desserts widened almost into a yawn. Teething problems again cannot really count as an excuse when you have the pedigree of Core behind you.
In terms of how your reviewer fared as an omnivore, he was pleased, but far from wowed. Veal sweetbreads were somewhat undermined by the honey sweetness of their glaze, while the quantity of red cabbage was disproportionate. A grilled trout main was satisfying, even if unmemorable. Had I wished to venture in a different direction across the menu, then I could have paid £42 for a posh take on ‘toad in the hole.’ Or not.
At least the booze kept flowing and Corenucopia definitely scores a win for its wine list. Unsurpsingly, there is a wide South African selection (given the Head Sommelier hails from the country) and the dessert pairings were superlative: a sweet Riesling matched trifle as did an aged Madeira with tiramisu. If fine dining is a Giffin Good – where higher prices cause more demand – then we would rather pay double and return to Core than have a half price (and half as good) experience at Corenucopia.