Van Zeller's, Harrogate

Many people think that Harrogate is “posh”, I can understand why.  The architectural opulence of the former spa town, grand ornate buildings and lots of black and gold shop signs give Harrogate an air of Victorian grandeur.  However go out at night and you’ll find it’s rough as ‘owt!  When the designer stores shut up shop the local hoodlums and wannabe, small-town gangstas head in their droves to Wetherspoons, Rehab and the Viper Rooms.  The first night out I had in Harrogate was utterly terrifying, it was like the worst elements of Mean Machine and The Texas Chainsaw Massacre.  There are no shortage of restaurants, from the standard chains such as Pizza Express, Carluccios, Jamies Italian, et al to the current trend of Amercianised pulled pork emporiums, barbecue pits and “gourmet” burger bars (some of which are really good, in a dirty, guilty pleasure kind of way).  With this in mind, it came as quite a surprise when I first began to hear reports of Van Zellers, it seemed here was a restaurant that lived up to the initial promise made by Harrogate, so I was delighted when my wonderful other half took me to try their tasting menu as part of my Christmas present.

Van Zellers is tucked away in the Montpellier Quarter, the archetypal Harrogate mews, Yorkshire stone and cobbled streets and the location of the ubiquitous Betty’s Tea Rooms.  The restaurant itself is cozy, extending out into its bay window from where you can play the role of a culinary Amsterdam window-whore to the odd rugby-shirted drunkard who has wandered off the cheap booze trail.  The decor is the crisp minimalism which is so often used when the building itself is the true design star, black and white, clean and simple.  The staff are perfect, respectful of the clientele and aware of the fact that high-end eating is now a destination event for many people, they don’t take for granted that you’re paying top dollar for food, the customer is in charge and, accordingly, you are made to feel welcome and comfortable, smiles are not only permitted but encouraged and nobody batted an eyelid as I discretely but obviously took iPhone snaps of the food or when I asked if I could take a copy of the menu away to preserve for posterity.

And it’s a menu worth remembering.  The food was genuine artistry, beautifully presented but taste always the star, there were no theatrics designed to mask content with style, the ingredients shone through and, where possible, were locally sourced.

Upon being seated and allowed to glance through the tasting menu (no difficult choices that way) and choose wine, we were presented with canapés of salmon bonbons and an onion choux bun.  We were then invited to choose from three types of bread, a four cheese loaf, rye bread with fennel or a dark brown loaf with ale, my partner went for the four cheese and I went for the ale bread though we were actively encouraged to choose more than one if we’d like.  The first course proper was a celeriac and apple remoulade, a tiny glass dish (not entirely un-reminiscent of a pub ashtray) containing shredded celeriac with a light mousse and an apple crisp.  Many years ago I spent some time in Denmark where remoulade was served with pretty much everything from picked herring to a roadside burger, I’ve always loved the flavour and here it was elevated to fine dining standards, clean, refreshing and subtle.

After this we moved on to slow poached hens egg with parmesan, truffle and potato.  It’s hard to make a poached egg look glamorous but this was all about taste and texture.  I assume the “slow poached” element of the egg was some sort of soux vide voodoo, the result was a wobbly white - though not the nasty, transparent, undercooked variety – with a liquid, though gelatinous yolk.  The potato took the form of a foam, generously infused with truffle and sprinkled with parmesan crumbs, this was an umami-rich, earthy dish, cheese, egg, potato and mushroom taken to the extreme.

Next up was carb time, pumpkin risotto with dukkah spice and capers, and I got slightly overexcited by this dish.  I love pumpkin, the velvety goop of the risotto was punctuated by firm spheres of pumpkin, providing much needed bite in what can otherwise be a repetitive eating experience, the dukkah spice, rich in cumin and thyme, was a perfect foil for the sweetness of the pumpkin and the fried sage leaves and capers added little bursts of intense flavour before the palette was cleansed by cooling yoghurt.  It worked on every level, sweet, sour, salty, hot, delicate and intense in equal measure, proper cheffy cooking.

The less observant diner may not have noticed that so far we had remained vegetarian.

Not so any more, along came the meat: pigeon and hare.  And beetroot, I bloody love beetroot.  The presentation was that modern, Pollock-esque randomness which is anything but random and walks the fine line between surrealist masterpiece and complete mess, a fine line I always fall the wrong side of when I try to recreate it at home, there is some culinary sorcery in contemporary food presentation which I don’t understand.  Pink meat, red and yellow beetroot and dark red splodges of “ketchup” this was absolutely beautiful, beetroot works so well with game and here the balance was perfect, the highlight being a tiny, crisp cylinder of melba toast filled with a hare confit which I could have quite happily eaten a whole bowl of.  

At this point we faced a decision: do we pay the additional £6.50 per head for the cheese course?  After a nanosecond of consideration we opted to pay the tax du fromage and our waiter explained that the actual cheese course was centred around a blue cheese (Harrogate blue to be precise).  As my dining companion was a lady and, presumably, ladies don’t eat blue cheese, he asked her whether she would prefer an alternative.  Call it casual sexism or call it brilliant waiting instinct, whatever the case he was right so my other half opted for a brie-based alternative, which had the added bonus of us getting to see another course.  My Harrogate blue was served on a triangle of light toast with hazelnuts and a whole lotta truffle, it was fantastic, complimenting the local cheese perfectly.  The brie came as a quenelle of mousse with two slices of melba toast and a silky smooth chutney and was equally well received.

We then moved onto a pair of desserts, the first of which, more of a palette cleanser, was a bright pink hockey puck of zingy rhubarb sorbet (there’s that local influence again) with an intense ginger gel, a classic flavour pairing of rhubarb and ginger, nice and refreshing after rich cheese and truffle.  Then came what, in less restrained hands, might have been called a “deconstructed bakewell tart”; poached pear, little nuggets of warm, almondy frangipane, homemade (and utterly wonderful) nougat and a bay foam.  It was a brilliant high-end interpretation of a classic pudding, pear and almond, and sweetshop chewy nougat (I was tempted to ask for a bag to take home with me).  After trying, unsuccessfully, to identify the herb taste I eventually struck upon the idea of checking the menu and smiled inwardly at the discovery that it was bay, I’ve heard before that this was a great combination with pear and it turns out to be just the case.

Van Zellers is a gem in Harrogate, a genuine destination restaurant which is more than capable of going toe-to-toe with any of the Michelin starred heavyweights of the region.  Without that coveted star, though, it seems quite a push on price, £50 for three courses is a big ask, £85 for a tasting menu even more so.  Whilst I have no doubt that this is worthy of such recognition, without it I would imagine it would struggle to pull in the punters, though clearly I know nothing as it seems to be doing very well and the modest size offers a certain exclusivity.  Whatever the future holds, I’m glad I came and I’m glad to have such a high end eatery on my doorstep, all I need now is another special occasion to justify a return visit.