Through thick banks of fog and over icy hillock we tumbled that dark mid-winter Dorsetshire night. For all we knew we could have been almost anywhere, but soon, looming cheerily out of the murk appeared the pastel front of Masterchef Matt Follas' restaurant The Wild Garlic.
On entry the cold is blasted from us by a glowing wood stove on one side of the room, our coats are taken and we are seated at the thick, wooden tables. We are immediately presented with complimentary bread and oil, along with a small dish of wasabi peas. I feel that we have been drawn into a friendly space, somewhere relaxed, but luxurious. The place allows for quirks to discuss, with the nibbles and the tables, which are carved with lists and phrases, but is ever inoffensive. Quite often when establishments try to aim for a relaxed style they can inadvertently appear confrontational, forcing their relaxation on their customers, but not here. Any expression is kept at a ubiquitous light touch, so that they are there, but only if you want them.
The waiter quickly takes our drinks orders and presents us with the menus, pointing out the specials blackboard at one end of the room. Our friend, who has a nut allergy, is quickly and quietly run through the options. This is pleasant, but brings me to a criticism. The majority of the menu is unavailable, including the more signature dishes, such as the slow roast pork, the plaice and the venison. We visited in that strange period between Christmas and New Year, so I suppose some leeway could be given but it was disappointing in any case.
The orders are taken; the drinks arrive in good time and the starters after a comfortable conversation period. I have a Trio of Smoked Fish and Pheasant with a Dill Sauce. The dish is pleasing to the eye; the fish arranged in a diagonal with the sauce to a side. It is pleasing also to see eel making a comeback, but as with everything it is only one small piece sitting un-confrontationally centre stage. It seems to appeal for unbiased trial. Eel has developed a bad name for itself following years of jellifying, but here it is on its knees, having turned over a new leaf, "Please, give me one more chance", it pleads. The trio is delicious, all displaying a different mysterious smokiness, which is daintily elaborated upon by the sauce. My query with the dish is about the pheasant, that is, why is it there? By itself it is great, served with tangy pickled red onions, but there it is, sitting stubbornly on the unoccupied corner of the plate, isolated both physically and in flavour.
My companions all have soup, of which there are two kinds; wild mushroom or tomato and seafood. These goes down without touching the sides and their reception is hearty. These are again cleared away and, to our surprise we are presented with interim nibbles, this time quails eggs on a bed of seaweed. Matt's enthusiasm for interesting foraged food shines out here. It is as if he's just run in, flushed, foraging book in one hand and a bunch of something he's picked from a hedgerow in the other, eager to share and explore a new taste or texture. It is exiting and as customers, partly because it is complimentary, you get drawn in to a more daring, open palate. For the record, the nibbles were well received, the salty, slightly chewy seaweed curling up with the delicate, soft eggs. What can I say? Opposites attract.
Then the moment we'd all been waiting for, the main course arrives. All are exquisitely presented, in perfectly sized portions. The plates walk that difficult tight rope between feeling like you need to pop down the pub for a bar snack, and bloating to the point of haemorrhage. I have a beautifully cooked and rib eye steak accompanied by the secret-recipe smoked mash and roasted veg. The vegetables could have done with just a few more minutes, but this is being pedantic. The gutsy smoked mash and frankly godly steak more than make up for slightly less than perfect veg.
Whilst I am in an ecstatic dream world, the rest of my table join me. The mode dish is duck breast with kumquat compote and smashed new potatoes. Again the meat is cooked perfectly, with just a tinge of pink in the centre and the kumquat gives the dish a lightly candied quality. The two bond as if fate had written their meeting in the stars. Similarly for liver fans, the calves liver dish was gulped down with unadulterated enthusiasm and much approval.
To finish the table shares a hot chocolate pudding and a cheese board. The pudding has a cute tiny perfection and is served with a slightly curled shortbread star, and the cheeseboard is well stocked with interesting local cheeses. While we're savouring these Matt himself wanders out of the kitchen to check if we all enjoyed our meal. Talking to him he emanates the quiet confidence his restaurant and food does. He encourages change and open mindedness, but in a way that is unobtrusive. He expresses his opinions strongly, but quietly, hoping that you might only try, but on your own terms and in your own time.
On the whole, The Wild Garlic was a pleasure to dine at, a place where exploration and comfort meet. The serving staff are attentive and friendly, but never obtrusive and the food, despite some minor criticism, is delicious. The Wild Garlic offers a new compromise between hard line radical new formats and overly formal stereotyped service, where waiters wither grovel or sneer. I wish the best of luck to Mr Follas in the New Year and hope he has all the success he so clearly deserves.
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