Feeling Cagey

Paul Stammers is impressed, but puzzled, by a new fusion restaurant in a key location.

REMEMBER the smell of school? The lingering pong of disinfectant ... the tang of chalk ... whiffy gym kit.

You can add to that the beguiling aroma of woodsmoke, if the Old School is anything to go by.

This charming Grade II listed building has seen its surroundings change considerably since the 1970s.

According to a document published by the Resource for Design Information, “there has been a clear attempt to create a definite place within the city, as a ‘stylish quarter’.”

What better site for an affordable boutique eaterie, run by a European restaurant guru with an eye for fusion food?

Being so near the bus station would be a boon for folk travelling from out of town and keen to slake their thirst.

So how come few people seem to have heard of Michael’s Kitchen at the Old School?

TELL ME SOME BACKGROUND STUFF.

Michael von Hruschka, pictured inset, who also has a place in north London called MVH, won praise a few years ago with The Birdcage in London.

The Guardian’s food writer Matthew Fort positively gushed about a meal he had there in 2000, describing it as “a brilliant sequence of differences”, with a menu you wouldn’t find anywhere else – ackee whitefish in paperbark with lavender-drenched potato being just one of the weird dishes offered.

He did, importantly, refer to the place being “laid back”. Well, the Old School may be a little less wacky (it’s still on the eccentric side – Japanese breakfasts are allegedly in the offing) than its predecessor, but it’s so laid back it’s horizontal.

When we arrived for dinner last week, it was deserted, apart from Michael and a waiter.

Oh, and a couple of folk who wandered in, looking for the Spice Valley curryhouse, which is also at the Old School.

WHAT DID YOU HAVE?

Sipping mini tequila cocktails as a funky, but repetitive, ambient soundtrack throbbed overhead, we were struck by the eclectic decor -– old photos, images of pigs, a huge seashell, books – which hinted at a surreptitious encounter between Central European decadence, eastern mysticism and and English primness.

The extensive menu (one course £15, two courses £19 or three courses for £23) read like a United Nations shopping list – Thai (Michael is, apparently, the former executive chef of the Oriental Hotel in Bangkok), German, French, Hungarian, Japanese, Vietnamese.

Not everyone adores fusion food, but anyone visiting Michael’s Kitchen could hardly be able to complain about the choice – nine starters and a staggering 14 main dishes, with eight more restrained desserts.

These included organic carrot cake, which isn’t usual posh restaurant fare.

Size matters, it seems. My starter of baked soft shell crab with mango salad and wasabi mayo would have counted as a main portion in many places.

My fiancee’s Siamese beef salad (served, incidentally, with gluten-free bread) was equally substantial – and like my crab dish, liberally laced with chilli.

Mercifully, my main dish of rump of lamb with pepperonata, truffle mousseline and a gorgeously rich jus was less fiery.

My fiancee was impressed by the way her roasted cod with seaweed tartar fell apart at the touch of the fork, but felt it was trumped by the “superb” pesto mash.

As at the Birdcage, there was a fondness for fussy, ornate detail – food was presented on slate plates and decorative leaves, while immaculate parcels were tied with shreds of lime peel.

AND THE SERVICE?

While Michael von Hruschka is a softly-spoken chap whose origins would be difficult to pinpoint, the waiter (friendly and efficient) was most definitely German.

He didn’t click his heels together when taking the orders, but ... let’s say it was a refreshing change from the breeziness of Aussie or South African waiting staff. WAS THERE ROOM FOR DESSERTS?

Not really, but we were cajoled into tasting the Valrhona chocolate fondant – warm, soft and rich. And also oozing unexpected aniseed and pepper flavours. But that’s Michael von Hruschka for you.

VERDICT: Quirky, stylish and decidedly relaxed.

But how desperate is Michael to lure diners to his kitchen?