Twice Underground: The Rambling Restaurant & Savoy Truffle Supper Club

After I popped my underground restaurant cherry at Ms Marmite Lover’s pad, I found I’d acquired rather a taste for the scene. The combination of a buzzing atmosphere, where people are a bit high on the whole secrecy/naughtiness vibe with an opportunity to nose inside other people’s houses and get a damn good feed at a damn good price is a winner in my opinion.
The Rambling Restaurant is rather more ‘occasional’ than the others I’ve come across. When my friend and I got wind of it we booked ourselves in for the opening night. The first night of an underground restaurant is much more of a venture into the unknown than that of a legit outfit of course, you truly don’t know what you’re going to get. I mean, can they even actually cook?
We were greeted with a rather boozy yet delicious elderflower cocktail which got jaws loosened and soothed away all memories of our unwanted scenic tour around Camden (i.e we got lost). The RR dining room is studio in layout and the chefs had basically pinned a cloth across the wall to make a divide between kitchen and dining area and to screen themselves from view. I have to say, I’d do the same – particularly on my opening night. If I was in the middle of a monumental f*ck up, I certainly wouldn’t want people watching my sweat drip into the soup.

We started with liver, bacon and mushy peas. It wasn’t quite what I expected, the liver being a coarse pate rather than a lobe but it actually turned out to be the best part – rich and meaty with good depth of flavour. The accompanying pea/tomato/cumin yoghurt combo in a shot glass was less successful however and a little bit confused, something which chef and patron The Food Rambler fully acknowledged when I sent her my feedback (which she asked for).

The main was a trout fillet with fennel, rocket and a rosti. The fish was perfectly cooked with a good crispy skin and silky flakes and the fennel and rocket provided welcome punches of pepper and anise. The only problem really was the presentation of the dish which was just a touch too rustic and the texture of the rosti suffered considerably from sitting in the sauce.

As usual in these BYO situations, we were fairly plastered by dessert (on Portugese (!) wine from a nearby shop) but I do remember that the chocolate fondant was really, really good – wicked, rich, gooey and deep with cocoa. For £15, the evening was a bargain, as we left bursting at the seams.
Although we could hear a lot of sizzling, clanging and clattering behind the sheet, our host always emerged calm and collected (I imagine her doing a short sharp outward breath, pinning back a stray hair and composing herself before emerging). She tells me the evening descended into chaos somewhat after I left for the last tube, with guests scrabbling in the bedroom for cafetieres but personally, I think it would only have added to the charm.

Now we whizz South of the river from Camden to Blackheath and the Savoy Truffle Supper Club. Sounds a bit more formal I know, and it was – not stiff, or stuffy but just a little more slick and established. It has been running longer and is staffed by professional chefs, so this is hardly surprising. Being skint as usual I knew I would need to make a thrifty choice on the alcohol but the name ‘Savoy Truffle Supper Club’ didn’t seem to encourage this and neither did the matching suggestions on the website. With some time to kill before my train then I disguised my budget bottle with a cunning label (above), which was certain to fool everyone who laid eyes upon it. Sorted.

We started with an amuse of roasted red pepper soup with harissa crème fraiche and Greek basil (which the supermarkets have started selling I’ve noticed). It had all the expected sweet intensity of a pepper soup with a good fiery kick of harissa. An excellent warm up.

Our starter was simple, elegant and delicious – crushed broad beans and mozzarella on sourdough toast. Man that toast was crispy. Thankfully the room was alive with excited chatter, which was just enough to disguise our crunching. The mozzarella was wonderfully milky and generously proportioned. I’d like to eat this for lunch for a week.
My interest in underground restaurants shows no signs of abating and I’m thoroughly enjoying making comparisons. The clientèle at STSC were a little more mature than those at the RR, whereas The Underground Restaurant appears to attract a good mixture of both, for example. I’ve had my eye on the Pale Blue Door but apparently it’s shut in September and I’m waiting on a reply for re-opening times. Perhaps I should start my own in the meantime. Nah, I wouldn’t have the nerve…would I?