Dinner / £££ / 9/10
I had visited (and really enjoyed) Purnells years ago so when I read Grace Dents review of Trillium I started planning. As anyone with kids knows, an overnight stay in a different city takes months of conversations and logistic management.
Fast forward 6 months and we made it, childcare in place (thank you dear, dear sister), hotel booked, work completed and sky high expectations. The restaurant is in a modern unit and shines like a beacon in a very corporate landscape. Like Glynn Purnell it has a personality that outshines its environment, the outside adorned with up lit planters and the inside a neon letter ‘chandelier’. The restaurant is designed to give as many tables as possible eye line to the open kitchen, I had the only seat with my back to it (obviously) so The Northerner gave me regular updates on the drama. What this does also mean is that there is a bar area that backs on to an open restaurant, there is no getting round this. It is odd. The working side of a bar is not a pleasant sight, it is busy, messy and the restaurant doesn’t gain anything by it being on full view. Would I have minded if I had been sitting at it though? Probably not. Am I only moaning as it was in my direct eye line? Yes (as seen below with the offending surface cleaner).
The service was present when needed, invisible and unobtrusive during conversation and relaxed in a way only the very best front of house can be, drawing a veil over any of the stress that might come from the open kitchen. We asked for recommendations as the menu was a mix of smaller and larger plates and our server helped us navigate this without ever using the sentence ‘We’re a bit different here…..’ so I was delighted.
My excitement translated into pure greed, we ordered ALL the snacks, 2 large plates and a side to form a starter, main course and side with room for pudding (I thought). The snacks arrived and our ability to communicate with words disappeared, replaced by lots of noises of delight, pleasure and indulgence. The Brummie Cakes were a thing of legend, they were as light as a Bettys scone with the saltiness of the bacon and caramelisation of the jam making my mouth water. So clever, so delicious I was in LOVE. The milk loaf was warm and pillowy, shiny with glaze and so rich the vinegar cut through the melt in the mouth sensation instantly. I experienced what people talk about when they are addicted to chillis. I couldn’t stop dipping the bread in the (there is no other word for it) fat. As I type I am droolling. I had the first inkling we had over ordered when I realised we had 3 plates of carbs.
The other 2 snacks would have blown my socks off if I hadn’t just been to snack heaven, they were executed perfectly but didn’t quite reach the dizzy heights of the Brummie cakes and Milk loaf. The potato scallop was comforting and never tipped into greasy, the XXL gougere was a light pillow of crispy cheese that felt like a ‘whisper’ of a dish after all the carbs. A miracle for something made of 90% cheese.
As we contemplated how much food was still to come we felt the beginning of a hangover – Why did we order so much? What were we thinking? Would I still be able to have a pudding? There was only one explanation, we got drunk and excited on our freedom, we were like the boys in Pinocchio. BUT maybe the main portions would be quite small? We had only ordered one side, maybe it would be ok? WRONG
My red mullet came with a generous side of crab orzo and the bone on sirloin that The Northerner ordered was massive. As soon as they arrived I decided I would eat as much as I could, but not forego a pudding for a clean plate. The Red Mullet was a triumph, cooked perfectly. The fish had the flavour from the grill and the sophisticated richness from the sauce. The orzo could have been a dish on it’s own, cooked paella style it was crispy around the outside but the lemon lifted the dish to a lightness that matched the crab. I ended up eating from each dish separately as they were both accomplished and I didn’t want to muddy the flavours by combining them. The sirloin lacked the tenderness you expect from Wagyu (especially for the price) but the accompanying sauce had the tender bite of pink peppercorns, the residual heat of black pepper only coming through right at the end of the mouthful and not overpowering the marbled beef. We left the Jersey Royals with the Hollandaise recognising they were indeed a stop too far on the yellow brick road of carbs.
You would be forgiven for now expecting a closing paragraph about Trillium because of how much we had ordered, eaten and left but the memory of one of the ‘Best Puddings I Have Ever Eaten’ (Purnells) was haunting me. The Northerners English Strawberry was a milk trifle which sounds disgusting but felt like a cool jet of sweetness after so much food. The meringue disintegrating in seconds, the yoghurt adding a freshness. After a few mouthfuls of my Mint Choc Chip we swapped, this was the Best Pudding I remembered but by then it’s familiarity and heft meant I was more enamoured by the strawberries. I felt a new sensation of needing to ‘walk off’ some of my fullness and we asked for the bill.
Glynn Purnell was in the kitchen (and around the restaurant for service) his presence added excitement. He seems like a nice guy so I will probably find out he is a hideous sex pest in the coming months; as seems so often to be the case. Fingers crossed he’s not as I feel a surging rush of warmth for Trillium (and him).
My dish was a 10/10 and those scones take a new title as the ‘Best Snack I Have Ever Had’ but the steak should have been better for the price. That being said I am currently looking for every opportunity to revisit Birmingham and nip in to Trillium when I am less excitable.
