caneat /// earlydoors
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So far, the other cafés I’ve reviewed have slotted into the brunch category—and much like those (Bloom & Yorks Café at the Ikon) it feels wrong to label caneat a café. By day, it serves a regularly changing menu of inventive breakfast and lunch dishes with no loyalty to any particular cuisine; just best quality ingredients sourced from like-minded suppliers. They also put on occasional Friday or Saturday evenings, with a changing menu, so I’ve gone with ‘pop up’ which still feels wrong—given it’s a caneat pop up at caneat—but I’m in charge of this, so that’s that.
I discovered tonight’s menu on Instagram and it includes beef and kimchi pie, buttered hispi and mash for two to share, requiring pre-booking. It’s a no-brainer once I spot it’s a “suet crusted pie with @farmertomjones beef”; a green-, sustainable- and wild-meat meat champion, seriously worth checking out, especially as there’s talk of a butcher’s shop opening. Bring on the pie and mash.
Drinks-wise, Katrina opts for a glass of red, which I don’t pay too much attention to, as it’s the sort of menu that demands wine. I’m not sulking—as I’m now in the phase of ‘enjoying’ dry January—but it’s a struggle to know what to drink, so I just follow Georgie’s lead and go with the apple and mint soda. I’m happy enough until they arrive with a bush of mint, doing a very passable impression of a mojito, thus ensuring my ‘enjoyment phase’ is very short-lived.
The meal starts with bread, bringing to mind billowing clouds; beautifully aerated and wonderfully bouncy-soft and chewy, with the most perfect crust. It’s drizzled in grassy-green extra virgin oil too. I pick up a piece to admire, dripping oil into my lap; this causes the parent-child power balance to tip, provoking a telling off from Georgie for being messy. There may be white bread somewhere in the world just as good, but absolutely none better; it’s faultless.
Faultless bread
I need more of this in my life so enquire where it’s from, “Dom bakes it,” comes the reply. Dom is the owner and chef, so it’s no surprise really, as he used to be a baker at Loaf a few doors down the road, until he left to set up Peel and Stone in 2014, before opening caneat three years later. I’m a firm believer in the bread a restaurant serves being a strong indicator of the quality for what’s to follow. I’m looking forward to this.
First up is nachos mushroom nam prik; the nachos are like ultra thin-sliced, fried bread—crispy on the outside but give to the bite inside. As for the nam prik, in terms of texture it’s like tapenade, there’s definite sweetness; the kind you get from semi-dried tomatoes and a pins and needles kind of spiky heat. We’re also brought some extra nachos with some ajo blanco; like an almond and lightly garlic bread sauce, although strictly speaking it’s a soup cousin of gazpacho. We’re up and running and our taste buds are on full alert.
Nachos mushroom nam prik… well past the halfway point
We’re leaving it to Georgie to lead on the small plates and three get the nod; orzo, cauliflower and scamorza; blood orange, fennel, radish and olive salad; and stir fried kale, garlic and hazlenut. The advantages of eating with a lone vegetarian are immense.
Given the food on offer, even whilst it’s only just past 7, I’m surprised there’s only one other table of diners. As for the decor, it’s all plain wood-boarded walls with a few hanging plants in crocheted netting, bench seating with cushions, circular wooden stools and square tables with primary colour tops; somehow I feel tins of crayons wouldn’t look out of place. It could just be the lighting, but it feels very café; they rarely transition well to the evening dining experience.
The pie arrives looking like a golden crown, alongside two plates of mash and the buttered hispi; almost translucent lime-green, fully leaved sweetheart cabbage. It looks like a plate of food from the school canteen but that comparison stops exactly there. It’s a deep pie with crispy pastry top and suet-soft bottom, the chunks of beef are divinely succulent and the kimchi infused gravy adds a joyous lightly spicy and sour tang contrasting immaculately with the comfort of the buttered hispi and mash. Normally I’d want gravy with pie, but the mash is puréed and the butter makes that particular need redundant. I help myself to some tenderstem on the table with more ajo blanco topped with pangrattato (fried breadcrumbs).
Beef & kimchi pie
Buttered hispi & mash
Beef & kimchi pie
Halfway in, the orange and fennel salad hasn’t arrived and then the penny drops; we’ve been brought the tenderstem (broccoli & ajo blanco) by mistake. This leaves us with a table full of brassica; alongside the hispi and tenderstem we’ve got stir-fried kale and then the cauliflower in with the orzo and creamy scarmorza; described by Dom as like a macaroni cauliflower cheese, it’s a big enough bowlful to function as Georgie’s main. It’s a shame as the salad would’ve provided freshness and crunch alongside the comfort of the pasta, but with the tenderstem almost gone, we go with the flow.
Orzo, cauliflower & scamorza with pangrattato topping; Broccoli & ajo blanco
After the plates are cleared, we wait a while, hoping to find some space for more pastry magic in the shape of apple pie, whipped custard and cinnamon pecans, but we’ve already definitely over eaten. On the way home, it doesn’t stop us regretting not sharing one.
With an extra glass of wine, the bill comes in at £58.50 and for this standard of food it’s a steal. Whilst I’m not enamoured by the room, Georgie suggests it’s just because I’m old—charming—well, maybe I am a fuddy-duddy when it comes to these things. At least by the time we leave it’s more or less full, and rightly so.
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