My father always wanted me to get on the straight and narrow and make something of myself. With this new column, I think i've just about got there.
NNNNDDDD will basically be a standard food critic's column, but with a twist, every restaurant I visit and review will have ear-splitting music blaring from the speakers above. Recent studies at the University of Cockfosters, Berkeley have shown that our taste buds react to piercingly loud noises by becoming more sensitive and responsive to flavour. Scientists conducted an experiment in which Nigella Lawson, Gordon Ramsay and Ainsley Harriot underwent brain scans whilst dining on a 5 star meal from a Michelin star restaurant. As they dined, 'I Spit On Your Clavicle' by Unctuous Pirate Stigmata is played on repeat at a horrendously loud volume.
The scientists found that the three chefs responded far more positively neurologically to the food they had eaten when the music was playing. Of course, they could have just asked the three award-winning chefs what they thought of the food, instead of forcing them to undergo brain scans, but the scientists thought it necessary.
The results, anyway, showed that the only way Humans can fully enjoy and savour the food we eat is to eat it whilst subjected to at least 120 decibels of noise. With that in mind, I visited 'Pasta Sottovoce' in beautiful Cromer, Norfolk, a new Italian restaurant opened by Alessandro Miadini and his wife Isabella from Bologna.
Pasta Sottovoce, Cromer, Norfolk
AS ONE WALKS INTO ISABELLA AND ALESSANDRO MIADINI'S NEW RESTAURANT ON NEWMARKET STREET, ONE IS STRUCK BY THE AUTHENTICITY OF THE PLACE. MANY SO CALLED 'ITALIAN' RISTORANTES IN THE UK ARE SHAMEFULLY SUPERFICIAL AND FULL OF PETTY STEREOTYPES, BUT THIS FEELS FRESH AND REAL, LIKE ONE IS TRANSPORTED INTO A GENUINE BOLOGNESE EATERY, EVERY SIGHT, SOUND AND SMELL MEANT TO ENHANCE ONE'S CULINARY EXPERIENCE.
EXPERIENCE IS CERTAINLY A KEY WORD HERE, THE MIADINIS TAKE GREAT CARE IN DESIGNING THEIR RISTORANTES IN SUCH A WAY AS TO MAXIMISE THEIR DINER'S JOY, THOSE WORKING IN THE SERVICE INDUSTRY PRACTICE A DELICATE AND HUGELY UNDERRATED ART FORM. ONE IS MADE TO FEEL SPECIAL, AS IF ONE IS THE ONLY CUSTOMER IN THE WORLD. AS I WAS LED THROUGH TO THE DINING AREA, PASSING THROUGH A RUSTIC CONCRETE ARCHWAY ADORNED WITH VINE LEAVES AND FRESH LEMONS, I FELT LIKE AN ADORED MEMBER OF THE LOCAL COMMUNITY, LIKE A FEARED MAFIOSO ENTERING HIS RISTORANTE WITH AN ESTEEMED LOCAL BUSINESSMAN HE'S TRYING TO ASSOCIATE WITH IN HOPE OF GAINING MORE INFLUENCE IN THE FINANCIAL STRATA OF THE CITY.
FOR STARTERS I ORDERED SOME BRUSCHIETTA AND A SMALL DISH OF CROUTONS. I RECEIVED A FEW BAFFLED LOOKS WHEN I TOSSED A CROUTON INTO THE AIR AND TRIED TO CATCH IT IN MY MOUTH, BUT THE WAITERS SOON LEARNED TO TOLERATE MY UNCOUTH BEHAVIOUR, EVEN EGGING ME ON TO TRY AGAIN WHEN IT FAILED TO ENTER THE ORIFICE. I THEN HAD A NEAR-DEATH EXPERIENCE WHEN I ALMOST CHOKED ON A FIDDLEHEAD WHICH GIACOMO, ONE OF THE DISHWASHERS, CATAPULTED FROM ACROSS THE ROOM. A BAFFLED PASSER-BY PERFORMED THE HEINLICH MANEUVER AMIDST THE PIERCINGLY-LOUD MUSIC STILL PULSATING FROM ABOVE. WHEN THE MEDICAL EMERGENCY WAS OVER, WE HAD A RATHER CRUDE BUT INTENSELY SPIRITED TOURNAMENT BETWEEN ALL THE WAITERS AND KITCHEN STAFF. THE TOURNAMENT DELAYED THE ARRIVAL OF MY MAIN COURSE, WHICH, WITHOUT TRYING TO BE A KILLJOY, WAS RATHER INCONVENIENT, BUT I'LL LET IT SLIDE AS I ADMIRE UNBRIDLED, RAUCOUS, SAVAGE MERRIMENT WHICH DELAYS IMPORTANT BUSINESS, IT'S WHY I WATCH PRIME MINISTER'S QUESTIONS EVERY WEDNESDAY.
MY MAIN COURSE OF MUSHROOM RAVIOLI DID EVENTUALLY ARRIVE, AND WAS POSITIVELY MOUTH-WATERING. THERE WAS JUST THE RIGHT AMOUNT OF SPINACH.. THE PASTA WAS WELL-CRAFTED, THE PLATE WAS SQUARE AND FANCY. I FIND THE SQUARE PLATES, FOR SOME REASON, IMPROVE THE QUALITY OF THE FOOD.
I MUST LEVEL WITH YOU, NNNN FAITHFUL, I KNOW NOTHING ABOUT FOOD. I'VE DINED AT MANY A REPUTABLE ESTABLISHMENT, BEING THE SON OF A RENOWNED FOOD CRITIC, BUT I PICKED UP VERY LITTLE. I'M NOT ENTIRELY SURE WHY, MAYBE IT'S A REBELLIOUS THING, I WANTED TO BE A SPOKEN WORD POET, OR A NORSE GOD, BUT FATHER HAD OTHER PLANS, THEY OFTEN DO. HE WOULD MAKE ME SIT AT A TYPEWRITER FOR HOURS ON END, TEDIOUSLY TYPING OUT HIS RESTAURANT REVIEWS AS HE DICTATED THEM TO ME WHILST ENGAGED IN RIGOROUS LOVE-MAKING. HE BECAME LAUDED FOR HIS WIT, EBULLIENCE AND SHARPNESS, BUT NO ONE REALISES THAT IT WAS ME WHO ADDED THIS INSATIABLE PANACHE TO THE ARTICLES. THE 1992 REVIEW OF SIR LOIN'S STEAKS IN MARYLEBONE? ME! THE 2001 REVIEW OF TOFFS AND SCOFFS IN NEWCASTLE UNDER-LYME? ME! 2003, JAMIE'S IN OXFORD? ME! 2005, ALAIN DUCASSE AT THE DORCHESTER HOTEL? ME! ME! ME! ALL OF IT WAS ME!
SO WHEN I WAS APPROACHED BY THE NNNN EDITOR TO DO A FOOD COLUMN IN MEMORY OF MY FATHER, I WAS ONLY TOO HAPPY TO OBLIGE, ON THE CONDITION THAT I COULD EXPERIMENT WITH A NEW AND INNOVATIVE FORM OF FOOD CRITICISM. NNNN, BEING AN OPEN-MINDED PUBLICATION, LET ME TRY OUT THE 'BURST EARDRUM/TASTEBUD THEORY', WHICH ORIGINATED AT UNIVERSITY OF COCKFOSTERS, BERKELEY. AFTER FINISHING MY MEAL AT 'PASTA SOTTOVOCE', I CAN REVEAL THAT IT'S ALL TRUE. THE FLAVOUR IN THE FOOD IS BLISSFULLY ACCENTUATED BY THE DISGUSTING DEATH METAL RAGING FROM ABOVE LIKE A HANGRY THOR. IT IS WORTH THE DEAFNESS, IT IS WORTH THE CLUSTER HEADACHES, IT IS WORTH THE BLOOD ON MY PILLOWS, IT IS WORTH THE SHELL-SHOCK. AND THAT IS THE HIGHEST COMPLIMENT ONE CAN GIVE A RESTAURANT. GRAZIE, ALESSANDRO E ISABELLA!
JOIN ME NEXT TIME WHEN I VISIT 'HUSH! HUSH! SUSHI!' IN BETHNAL GREEN.
