Blasé, Bristol Loaf: 'It takes great restraint not to take after Oliver Twist and run to the kitchen begging for more'
Ex-head chef of the Pony Bistro Hugo Harvey is taking fish cookery to new heights
Have you ever heard of The Egg? I don’t mean the one that’s served with soldiers or fried with a side of bacon. The Egg is a short story by Andy Weir. If you’re wondering where you’ve heard that name before, he also wrote The Martian and a few other reasonably entertaining books.
You should read The Egg in full on Andy’s website. For the vast majority of you who won’t bother, here is a short summary:
The Egg follows a man who meets God following his death in a car crash. God explains that the man is now between lives, and will be reincarnated over and over until he has lived the life of everyone, ever, on Earth.
The man realises that this must mean he has met himself, or another version of himself. Every time the man is cruel to someone, he is cruel to himself. Every time he is kind, he is kind to himself.
God has created Earth and the human experience as an incubator to help this man, this being, reach maturity, at which point they too will become a God. The Earth, therefore, is their egg.
A enthralling concept. But what does it have to do with restaurants?
Well, believing this theory brings me great hope. It means that one day, I will be able to cook fish as well as Hugo Harvey.
This is what I was pondering in the teetering gap between courses at the latest iteration of Blasé.
Contemplating deities and the reason for our existence in a restaurant is a sign of food from either end of the spectrum; astounding or awful. The food at Blasé was firmly in the former category. Hugo Harvey has said in the past that fish is his poisson, sorry, passion. He is wrong. I am passionate about knowing the lyrics to each of Taylor Swift’s 237 songs and about the Suzuki Jimny being the ultimate car.
Hugo’s cookery is not passion, it’s obsession, it’s infatuation. The time and skill to execute eight dishes to such a high standard while serving fifty people simultaneously requires utter devotion.
Smoked eel hash brown launches the night on a fabulously promising note. Good wines are being provided by the knowledgable and friendly team at Native Vine. The Loaf on Bedminster Parade boasts through twinkling windows to all passing by about how good it is at hosting people in the evening; it’s not just a brunch venue, thank you very much.
Mackerel tells us that for produce this good, ten minutes in a salt bath is absolutely long enough for curing. Bread appears through the power of our manifestation just as we reach for something to mop up the white soy and citrus sauce. It’s a good job too because we are starting to realise that these dishes are consistent in size as well as taste. We are dealing in the most enchanting of morsels, but they are morsels nonetheless. These dishes would be right at home on a TikTok reel of miniature cookery.
Crab head waffle laughs in our faces for thinking that those two ingredients combined could err on the side of too sweet. If only all waffles were Hugo Harvey crab head waffles. This crab’s head has been so expertly treated it is as close to perfection as one can reasonably hope to achieve. In fact, if I am ever reincarnated as a crab - or any fish for that matter - I think I’d be quite happy if I ended up on this menu. I’d swim willingly into the net.
My only criticism is that the crab is a little on the cool side. Such is the challenge of serving fifty people at exactly the same time. It’s an affliction that nips at the heels of a few of the plates.
Picking a standout dish is like trying to choose between your children. Is is the monkfish in curry sauce that sings of upmarket Chinese takeaways or is it XO scallop paste with celeriac leaves? It takes great restraint not to take after Oliver Twist and run to the kitchen begging for more.
Cod collar l’entrecote has been swapped out for hake, Hugo tells us. He introduces each dish, which can be tiring but he treads the line just right; shedding a little light on the ingredients and the method while maintaining a sense of modesty. Each introduction is met by a round of applause not dissimilar to that when a plane lands. Cringe-inducing, but ultimately not the pilot’s fault.
The hake is undoubtedly good but the weakest of the fishes. Sorry, dishes. This would fit right in the small plates selection at Salt and Malt, which is no surprise given Hugo is a graduate of the Pony empire. They must be kicking themselves.
By the time dessert arrives we have been eating, drinking and generally enjoying ourselves for over three and a half hours. Be careful who you come to Blasé with, you will have to talk to them for as long as it takes to catch the fish that we’re being served. It’s the second evening this week I have spent that amount of time sat in one spot; though I would argue Blasé is a much cheerier and better use of time than seeing Leonardo DiCaprio remind us how wretched men can be* in Killers of the Flower Moon.
Mini milk and coco pops is the title of the dessert and a child’s birthday party is probably where it should stay. But then, Hugo never proclaimed to be a master of mini milks. It’s the one dish where a small portion would have been ample, which is ironic given it’s the biggest of the lot.
Blasé. A funny name given its creator is clearly anything but. He’s almost rubbing his skill in our faces with a name like that. I’d have it rubbed in my face any day of the week. £65 a head (before wine) is absolutely reasonable considering the quality, but the portions are small.
Then again, you’ve got to leave them wanting right? I’m cool with it. After all, I have another 49 times to experience that night in Blasé, according to Andy Weir. I can’t wait.
*Not all men.
Words and photos by Meg Houghton-Gilmour
Blasé, popping up once a month at Bristol Loaf, Bedminster Parade, BS3 4HL