Please note that since writing this blog post, Peper & Zout has closed down
Dinner at Peper & Zout was like an episode of Master Chef: a scattering of brilliance amongst a fair bit of mediocrity and a peppering of downright strangeness.
I started with a ‘Trio’ comprising a single scallop with soy vegetables (and possibly a hint of rice noodle?); a single prawn in tempura batter with soy sauce; and a very small piece of raw tuna that had been rolled in sesame seeds. I could’ve eaten it all over again (and I mean that in both the positive and the negative sense). I didn’t actually taste any of my dining companions’ starters, not least because I was slightly confused by their existence on the same menu as mine. Some kind of melon and parma ham salad (is it just me or was 1985 not 23 years ago?), a soy vegetable salad (since when did soy sauce constitute salad dressing?) and a swordfish carpaccio with tea (yes, tea). It was more con-fusion than fusion.
Next up came a veal stew with what I think was mashed potato with pieces of apple in it. The veal was pleasantly stringy, but could have done with more juice. Two of my friends had sea bass with a ‘beurre noir’, which the chef should have just stopped at the noisette stage, and cauliflower. Not a sexy vegetable at the best of times, but this cauliflower was perfectly edible if a strange choice of bedfellow for the sea bass. An interesting touch was the china ‘bakje’ of chips and mayonnaise that imitated its plastic counterpart from a patatkraam. And the chips inside were good too.
But the dessert was the highlight of the Master Chef-iness of the meal. We ordered a chocolate mousse cake, which tasted of dark chocolate. So far so good. But it came with (wait for it) sesame seed ice cream (Greg Wallace’s voice piped up in my head: ‘No, I’m sorry, it’s just wrong’). There’s a reason why Ben & Jerry never coined this flavour and that’s because it’s revolting. Moreover, it was as if the chefs suspected they’d done something really stupid, because they chose to serve this grey, stir-fry ice cream in what looked like a disposable plastic cup on one corner of the plate. To add insult to injury, they then attempted to atone for their sins by producing an orange compote. Now, it’s hard to describe how a compote should taste if you’ve never had one, but I can tell you that it shouldn’t taste like pureed fish eggs with citric acid.
I had intended to tell you about the décor, and the wine, and the service, but until Peper & Zout have sorted out their flavours and their menu, the rest is pretty much irrelevant. They should take the advice given to many a not-so-Master Chef and just keep it simple, get the basics right, and make their dishes consistent.
