Review: Isaac at, Brighton

I am extremely late to the party with this one. In its second year of trading as a fully fledged restaurant, Isaac At has had glowing reviews from most of the local food bloggers, claimed number 14 at Brighton’s Top 20 Restaurant awards, as well as numerous mentions in national press, most recently, The Telegraph Travel Brighton food guide.

I’d been invited* for a meal a couple of times and the dates hadn’t worked out, but after another email from their lovely PR lady and second rave review from my good pal Fran, The Graphic Foodie, followed up with an ‘It’s AMAZING, what are you waiting for, get booked in’, message – I did just that.

Tucked away down a side street in North Laine, the 22 seater restaurant underwent refurbishment towards the end of last year, with an extension to the kitchen and a move towards creating a ‘homelier’ feel – the end result being tasteful and stylish, I really liked it. I kind of wish they’d give their name a little face-lift and drop the inexplicable ‘At’. Perhaps it’s a throwback to when they were just a pop up, but they’re all grown up now, and I’ve literally never heard anyone call it anything but Isaac/Isaac’s, and I’m not sure they’re ever going to!

There’s a choice of set or tasting menus (priced at £35 and £50pp respectively) with an additional charge for wine pairing with each course. For the non-drinkers the equivalent, but with juice, is offered, a nice touch and something I’ve only ever seen on the menu at The Pass restaurant, before. All the food is as locally sourced as possible and the wine and juices are all from within the Sussex borders.

From the cutlery holders housing perfectly polished silverware for each course, to the hand-tied scroll containing the menu and list detailing the mileage of all of the ingredients used, the scrupulous attention to detail is clear to see, and what one would expect from somewhere positioning itself as a fine dining establishment.

The service throughout the entire meal was incredible, and that comes from extremely judgmental ex waitresses. But a special mention must go to our host for the evening: meet Alex, the sommelier/head waiter formerly of South Lodge, so it goes without saying, his is a polished performance.  Napkins refolded for us, neither water nor wine glasses ever left empty, every detail of the food and drink explained, and a seemingly encyclopaedic knowledge of English wine* – a bonafide asset to the team and an absolute sweetie.

*I am going to repeat the disclaimer re wine matching from my Busby & Wilds review:

I’m no wine expert. I don’t drink it at home, I don’t order it in restaurants(I think this is the main reason I am not the size of a house), and much to my wine cellar owning parents’ despair, I don’t really enjoy or have much interest in it either. With this in mind there won’t be much, or any, comment throughout re the wine pairing. Just know that I drank every glass that was put in front of me and enjoyed it.

The kitchen team, headed up by owner, Isaac Bartland, is a team of lads, all of whose Mother (albeit a gymslip one) I am old enough to be *sob*. My own selfish thoughts on that aside, and without meaning to be patronising, the food coming out of the kitchen doesn’t look as though it was created by people only just out of their teens! Impressive stuff.

If an estate agent was describing the restaurant, the words ‘compact and bijoux’ would probably be used. Not content with an entirely open kitchen, they’ve also installed two observation screens – these guys clearly love to be watched, as there’s not a seat in the house which doesn’t have full view of their handiwork – narcissistic or an ‘immersive’ dining experience? It did nothing for me, I ignored it completely, preferring the company of my dinner date, but I imagine others might be enthralled.

After setting the bar high with the bread, the pre starter dialled down our enthusiasm a touch. They delivered on their mission statement of ‘big bold flavours’ but sadly, that flavour was burnt cabbage, with not quite enough of everything else to dilute it.

The two slivers of scallop were sweet and fresh on their own and we both agreed they would’ve been better off left whole. The dubiously named ‘scurvy grass’ brought nothing to the party at all, getting swallowed up, along with the charcoal mayo, in the dominant taste of singed leaf.

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