Rebel Dining Society

Rebel Dining Society

22 June, 2011
by: Tom Jeffreys

Tom Jeffreys is disappointed by a distinctly un-rebellious (and over-branded) Rebel Dining Society.

I can't remember when I first heard about the Rebel Dining Society, but the name has somehow lodged in my head and lingered, conjuring images of darkened dens – smoke-filled and secretive: strange food served by dapper dwarfs, darkly potent cocktails, rich wines and whispered talk of  revolution. Unfortunately it doesn't quite work out like that, for a variety of reasons.

The first problem, for me, is the space. Until recently the Rebel Dining Society was an itinerant operation, flitting from location to location and plying its wares. But they've recently found a permanent home on Vyner Street, a street now indelibly associated with the no longer cutting edge. The space itself is fine for a gallery, but for a dining event it feels too Spartan – something not helped by the bare walls, the slightly school canteen feel of the table layout and the insistence on playing music far too loud as if we're in some kind of All Bar One and the clientèle haven't yet discovered anything as sophisticated as conversation.

The only occasions that the music does fade provide a clue to the other major problem of the evening: branding. Rebel Dining Society is sponsored by Pernod Absinthe and, boy, do they take their pound of flesh. Throughout the five course meal, every drink we have is a Pernod Absinthe-based cocktail, introduced by one of the bartenders from Ottolenghi . It is during these moments that the music goes quiet and we're invited to make the cocktails ourselves, under careful supervision of course. There's no question that this is pretty fun and a nice way to get people to do something together, but it also creates other problems: while one or two of these drinks is great, any more than that is just overpowering – both in terms of flavour (aniseed is pretty cloying after a while) and in terms of alcohol content. By about the second course, everyone is trashed

That we're the ones making the cocktails is also a bit annoying – given that the reason you hire a great bartender is that he makes great drinks. But after a while it's actually a blessing, as the savvy amongst us simply omit the Pernod Absinthe from our cocktails.

All of which is a shame, because the food is, if not consistently successful, at least interesting and clearly the work of somebody with passion and ideas. A starter featuring salmon powder is interesting and looks delightful (it's sadly a little overpowered by ginger whilst the presence of prosciutto is perhaps unnecessary). Blueberry and mushroom risotto sounds more exciting than it is: the blueberries give it a cool blue-grey colour, but it lacks the courage of its convictions I think. And it arrives cold. Quail with potato gratin is delicious, although the portions are minute, but it's the desert that for me is the highlight. And when I find desert the highlight of a meal I know I've been let down. Nonetheless it is rather exciting – a punchy, tangy tobacco panacotta ice-cream that's quite unlike anything I've been served in a restaurant before. It divides the diners – between non-smokers and smokers unsurprisingly – but at least it's daring. I'd expected more of that attitude here – sadly, a dining society this enslaved by a brand can only ever be rebellious in name only.

therebeldiningsociety.co.uk

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Tom Jeffreys