Byzantium
LOST IN TRANSLATION
I remember quite vividly the first time I had alioli; I was 20 and on holiday in Ibiza with my then girlfriend. On our first night we picked a restaurant, as randomly as you can, and whilst we were trying to make sense of the menu they brought bread, olives and alioli with our drinks. Even though the restaurant wasn’t particularly good, we ended up going back there four nights on the trot, just for the alioli. On the fifth night circumstances meant we had to eat elsewhere, only to discover they served it in every restaurant and my love affair with Mediterranean food began.
It was ten years later when I discovered tapas on a weekend break in Barcelona and it etched a similar memory upon me. How had I been to Spain all those years and never experienced tapas before? It’s such a civilized way to eat; both in the true sense as bar snacks, but also as a mezze style meal, with so many different dishes and flavours on the table. It must be the easiest way to please vegetarians, pescatarians and carnivores alike.
With a plan to eat early and get home to watch Lost in Translation on Netflix, we’ve booked a table for 6.45 and we’re shown to one right in front of the entrance. As there are only three other tables with diners and a chilly draught that turns into an Arctic blast every time the door is opened, we ask if we can sit elsewhere. We’re initially told no and on politely enquiring why, there follows an intense five-minute discussion between the waitress and manager, busily tapping on an iPad. We’re eventually told we can move to the table right next to us. It’s a small victory, although I’m not sure who has won.
Byzantium - main room
The waitress then explains the concept of tapas to us in a hushed, almost excited tone, like she’s passing on secrets to unlock the mysteries of the cosmos. To kick things off we order a flatbread and dip, two diet cokes and a large glass of Portal D'Ouro—a decent enough medium bodied, dark fruity red.
Whilst there’s plenty of what you’d expect to see on a tapas menu, it casts its net far beyond Spain promising ‘spirito Mediterraneo’ across its 40 odd dishes. But despite starting with an initial shortlist of roughly fifteen options, we display previously unseen levels of discipline in choosing just six between the three of us.
Meanwhile, the garlic flatbread has arrived looking like it should be warm; it isn’t, but it’s fine and drizzled with a hint of lemony garlic olive oil and a scatter of dried oregano. We’ve also ordered a bowl of zaalouk—an aubergine and tomato mushy dip with cumin and corriander. It’s a good start.
Zaalouk and garlic flatbread
Along with another flatbread for mopping purposes the rest of the food arrives, pretty much together. I go straight in for the patatas bravas and whilst the potato chunks have great, crisp skins, the larger ones are on the slightly undercooked side. But the biggest disappointment is the meekness of the sweet and slightly sour sauce; bravas means brave or fierce, like arrabiata—angry—in Italian, it should deliver spicy heat.
Garlic flatbread and patatas ‘bravas’
The three large croquetas have a lovely, creamy melt-in-the-mouth middle as you bite through their perfectly crunchy casing. But I’m not getting much sense of the promised cheese, onion and spinach in the filling with flavour being mostly provided by the not especially garlicky alioli and onion jam.
Croquetas with alioli and onion jam
The arrosticini—’Italian’ lamb skewers—are delicately grilled pink, but lack seasoning and whilst that’s easily rectifiable, the tzatziki proves to be an insipid accompaniment.
Arrosticini - lamb skewers with tzatziki
The gambas flambeadas—flambéed pan fried king prawns—are firm and succulent, although they’re heavily doused in a cream sauce straight from the 1980s, with no sense of any flambé booze and just the merest suggestion of garlic and chilli; like our palates have still to get acquainted with such ‘out there’ flavours.
Gambas flambeadas
The piquillo peppers are stuffed with bacalao—salted, dried cod—and topped with what seems to be a herby béchamel, which works well with the sweetness of the peppers. There’s no saffron alioli that I can tell, but where this dish falls down is the parcity of the balacao. In a blindfold test I’d not have put a single peseta on their being any fish in this dish. The filling comes across simply as pureed mash and I’m sure it could be classed as vegetarian.
Piquillo peppers stuffed with bacalao (dried, salt cod)
For the first time ever in a tapas dining situation, we’ve not over ordered, but we’re not swayed by the options for dessert, opting instead for chocolate with the movie. With a large and a small wine and the two diet cokes, the bill comes in at £66.
Overall, it’s been a ‘nearly but not quite’ meal. The dishes have generally been well cooked, with great textures too, but it seems they’ve forgotten about flavour; that fundamental element I consider to be the true essence of ‘spirito Mediterraneo.’ It just feels lost in translation.
WORTH A TRY
11 York Road, Kings Heath, Birmingham B14 7SA
