Beef Wellingtons and First Impressions
- x -
What happens when a fiery food critic sends back James Potter's signature beef wellington? He certainly didn't expect to come out of it with a date.
"What the bloody hell do you mean she sent it back!"
James felt thunderous as Peter placed the virtually untouched plate of food down on the counter in front of him. He knew he shouldn't have yelled at his mate, but never before in all his years as a chef had anyone sent his food back with a complaint.
"I dunno mate! She seemed fine when I put it down, but when I came back to check in on everything, she had like two bites and asked me to send it back!" Peter replied, flustered and a light flush creeping up his cheeks and neck.
Behind him, James could hear footsteps coming towards him and a calming, but firm, hand rested on his shoulder.
"What did she say exactly, Pete," Remus asked. Of all of them - him, Sirius, and Peter - Remus was the one who was most calm when things went even slightly wrong. Maybe it was because he didn't actually work in the kitchen, and maybe it was because unlike him and Sirius he had much less bravado in his veins.
Peter huffed out a breath and wiped the back of his hand across his sweaty forehead as he looked between Remus and James, "She said that if this is what we serve our customers, she doesn't know how we're so popular."
Beside him, Sirius - who had mostly been zoned out and hadn't been paying attention - stabbed his knife into the wooden chopping board and glared venomously at the door leading to the dining room.
"Right, whoever this bitch is, I'm going to go and give her a piece of my mind. The absolute gall of this bird!" Sirius seethed as he untied his apron and pushed his sleeves up past his elbow.
James agreed with his friend, but the idea of him storming out with his legendary temper was less than appealing, not to mention that if this critic was out there they'd most likely be blacklisted in most of the papers and food magazines tomorrow. It'd be a shame to see all their hard work, and savings, go down the drain.
"You're staying put Sirius, I'll go and talk to her," Remus chimed in, his hand leaving James' shoulder and patting Sirius' back instead.
"Don't be daft, I'll go and talk to her, I'm the one who cooked it." James removed his apron and folded it neatly, placing it on the counter as he folded his sleeves up twice and facing Sirius. "I'd love to see you put her in her place, but I'd quite like to stay in business mate."
"That was an A grade beef wellington and you know it James!"
"Yeah I know, but apparently not to whoever this woman is."
"Are you sure you don't want me to handle it?" Remus asked, apprehensive. There was a weird look in his eyes and James made a note to ask him about it later.
Usually when critics came in, it was Remus who acted as spokesperson for the rest of them. Had it been any other day, and any other critic, James would've let him handle it, but he'd felt so affronted about someone insulting his beef wellington that he felt he needed to see whoever this person was.
Had she insulted any other dish on the menu, he'd have shrugged it off and cooked her anything else. But this was their signature beef wellington - it was a recipe that had been handed down to him by his now deceased mother. A dish which he had added to the menu as a tribute to her and her dreams of opening her own restaurant.
This wasn't just an affront to the restaurant or his cooking, it was an affront to his mother. And he wasn't about to stand by and let some hot-shot critic shit all over his mum's legacy.
"This is personal, Remus," James explained. They stared at one another for a few silent moments before understanding dawned on his friend's face and he nodded, conceding to James' request. Finally he turned to Peter, "Right, where is she?"
Peter ushered him to the little window on the kitchen door, pointing to a table by the footpath next to a ficus tree. A woman sat by herself at the alfresco table and James squinted as he pushed his glasses further up his nose.
"Is that her?"
"Yeah, ginger hair."
James could only see the back of her head, but he could tell just by the way she sat with her back ramrod straight that she was one of those prim and proper food critics with the highest of high standards when it came to restaurants and food. He hated those types of critics.
"Right, thanks Pete." James ran a hand through his hair before going back to get the untouched plate of food she'd returned, saluted his friends and walked towards her table.
The restaurant was packed and James smiled at a few of the regulars that recognised him. His old school friend, Kingsley Shacklebolt called him over for a chat, but James politely declined and said he'd return to chat when he was done. Inhaling a deep breath, James straightened himself up and walked confidently out the doors to the footpath where a few tables lined the windows of the restaurant.
The unknown critic with ginger hair sat by herself and was tapping away on her phone with a smile on her face. If he didn't resent her for insulting his mum's beef wellington recipe, he might've tried to chat her up. But as it was, she had insulted his mum's recipe, and he wasn't going to chat her up even if she was the last person on earth.
Without a single word to her, James strode to her table and gently placed the plate of food in front of her. He took a small step away from her and crossed his arms as she stopped scrolling on her phone and frowned at the plate in front of her.
"I thought I asked for something e-" she stopped speaking when she looked up and her eyes glazed over with surprise before she quickly schooled her features into one of casual annoyance. "You're not the same bloke from before."
"Obviously not." His mum would've been shocked at his manners, but he didn't care too much.
"Well whoever you are, I asked the other guy to give me another dish." She turned a little in her chair and James had to stop himself from staring at her lips when she licked them.
"Yeah, well that's why I'm here." James stuck his hand out in front of him, "James Potter, Head Chef."
"Lily Evans, writer at The Foodism" she said as she stuck her hand to shake his. Her hands were small compared to his, and her fingertips were surprisingly calloused given her prim appearance. "You're not what I expected."
"Neither are you." They let go of one another's hands and James crossed them back across his chest.
"Please take a seat, you must be sick of being on your feet." She gestured to the empty chair in front of her, but James barely glanced at it as he continued to stare her down. "Or not. Have I done something to offend you?"
"Obviously, yeah."
"Is it something to do with the beef wellington I sent back?" He nodded, frowning at her. Lily glanced at the window next to them and a blush coloured her face at the sight of the diners inside staring at them. "Could you please take a seat before we talk properly?"
"Why?"
"People are staring." She nodded her head towards the diners inside and James waved at them before he obliged and took the seat opposite her. "Thanks."
"So, the beef wellington? Why'd you send it back?" James asked as he crossed leaned back in the chair and crossed his arms.
The critic, Lily, smiled at him apologetically as she pursed her lips together, considering her words before speaking, "Did you know I used to be a chef?"
"No."
"Of course you wouldn't, I'm afraid I wasn't very good at it. Was let go by Alain de Botton, three months into my apprenticeship." She had a sincere look on her face, and James tried not to be impressed by her admission. Alain was notoriously tough on his students, and if she'd lasted three months she must've been at least a little more talented than she let on.
"Good for you, but this doesn't explain why you returned my beef wellington." James tapped his foot against the cobbled footpath, impatient.
"I didn't hate your beef wellington." James scoffed at that and rolled his eyes, as if. "No really, I didn't. The one or two bites I had were actually quite good."
"So why'd you send it back?"
She was silent for a few moments as she stared at him thoughtfully. James felt a little uncomfortable as her eyes rested on him and he hated the way that deep down he really fancied her. He hated that he insulted his cooking, but it was hard to deny that she was just about the fittest woman he'd ever seen walk into his restaurant.
He was in trouble, and it wasn't just because she didn't like his beef wellington.
"It's overcooked."
"Overcooked?" She nodded. "I've made this hundreds of times, I think I know how to cook a beef wellington perfectly."
As if to make sure he was right, James glanced down at the beef with a frown. He couldn't really see the meat properly because it was obscured by a hefty serving of jus, and he couldn't actually recall if it was perfectly cooked. There'd been such a rush that he'd let one of the commis chef's plate it instead of him or Sirius. For all he knew, it actually could be overcooked.
"By all means, you're welcome to try it for yourself and see." Lily pushed the plated towards him, a neutral look on her face as she gave him a fork and steak knife as well.
"You know what, I will," James decided as he pulled the plate towards him. He cut a small slice of the beef wellington and tasted it, staring at her as he did. The longer he chewed, the more smug the smile on her face became, and James swallowed the beef harshly.
"So?" she asked, her lips twitching with mirth as she poured him a glass of water and handed it to him. James accepted it gratefully and frowned at her as he drank it.
He had been so sure that she was in the wrong, and now he felt like a bona fide prat for acting like such a wanker. She was right, she was so so right. The beef wellington was desperately overcooked and James was too afraid to scrape the jus off the beef. Too afraid to see that it was definitely overcooked.
"I guess those three months with Alain weren't a complete waste."
"Definitely sets me apart from the other food critics. At least I can say I know what I'm talking about."
"That you do, you've definitely put this chef in his place." James' chuckle is strained and she smiles at him apologetically while he gets up from his seat.
"Everyone's got their bad days, and honestly I don't blame you, everyone clearly loves this place so one bad beef wellington does not a bad review make."
He pushes the chair back underneath the table and collects the plate and dirty cutlery as he stands over her, "Well it was lovely meeting you Lily Evans, and I'm sorry for acting like a right prat."
"Lovely meeting you too James, your prattishness is totally forgivable, I know how much this recipe means to you."
"You do?"
"Yeah, I'm good friends with Remus, he's told me all about this place. It's why I'm here."
"You're good friends are you?"
"Yeah, from university.
"Funny, he never mentioned knowing anyone named Lily from university. In fact, he never even mentioned there was a food critic coming over today."
The whole thing seemed odd now that James properly thought about it. Usually when food critics came to the restaurant, Remus would tell them at least a week before so they could prepare their best dishes and make sure the restaurant looked its' best. But he hadn't even heard about Lily's being here until after Peter had taken her order and handed it to him and Sirius.
There was something Remus wasn't telling him, and he was going to murder him once he found out.
"It was a little bit short notice, I've only just come back from overseas." She did look quite tan for someone who had red hair.
"Oh, whereabouts?" James leant all of his weight on one leg as he waited for her to answer him. She really was quite beautiful, and now that he knew she hadn't really insulted his food on purpose, he was much less cautious about admitting she was gorgeous.
"I was in Sicily for a wedding." That explained the tan.
"Bloody good nosh there."
"I agree, there's a place that makes lovely granita and gelato."
"Caffe Sicilia?" She nodded. "Brilliant stuff, their granita is just genius."
"It is isn't it? Who knew shaved ice could be so creamy!"
"How long have you been a food critic? I don't mean to be rude but I haven't heard of you before."
The restaurant had been open for a year and almost all of the big food critics had come and gone to sample their food. Each time they'd gotten lukewarm or stellar reviews, and it was clearly enough to be consistently busy on most days.
"Not too long, maybe a year or two? Hit a bit of slump after de Botton told me to bugger off."
"I completely understand, you heard of Evangeline Beaumont?"
"Of course! Who hasn't?"
"Well, Sirius and I apprenticed under her before opening this place up, and let me tell you, bloody nightmare she was. Absolute genius, but a bloody nightmare to work for."
Lily opened her mouth to reply but was interrupted by something behind him. James turned to follow her gaze and frowned a little at Peter coming towards them, a cautious look on his face.
"Hey Pete, what's up?"
Peter smiled at Lily before he turned to James, "Sirius wants you back in there. He's having a bit of trouble with the spotted dick."
James looked back at the kitchen door and rolled his eyes at the sight of Sirius peeking through the little circular window, a quizzical look on his face.
"Right yeah, of course, hey can you take this back with you? I'll be in in a second'." Peter nodded at him and Lily before returning to the kitchen, picking up a few more empty plates on his way.
"He looked terrified when I asked him to return the beef." Lily admitted as she turned her body to face him. Her tanned legs peeked out from under her midi skirt and James couldn't help but glance at them a little longer than he should have.
"Delicate nerves he's got, Peter has." Lily snickered and James was a little stunned at the way her face lit up as she did. "But listen, I really am sorry for acting like such a prat before, if I'd known it was overcooked, I wouldn't have-"
"Don't worry about it, all is forgiven."
"I still feel rotten about, tell you what, everything's on the house today. I'll whip something up for you personally to make up for the beef."
"Don't be silly, I'd feel awful not paying."
"We're not exactly a fledgling business Lily, I think we can afford to shout one meal."
She looked hesitant but fluttered and James felt triumphant as she looked at him from below her lashes, "Are you sure?"
"Yeah 'course I am."
"Well, alright, but I owe you one!"
"Are you asking me out on a date?"
"Maybe I am." A sultry look crossed her face and James was glad that Peter had taken the plates from him, his hands were shaking from how nervous he was in front of her. "Lovely to meet you James Potter."
James nodded at her and stuck his hand out for her to shake, "And you Lily Evans."
He smiled at her one last time before heading back into the kitchen, but not before casting one last glance at her, and being pleasantly surprised at the fact that she was looking back at him too.
Thank Christ for overcooked beef wellington.
The Hog's Head, Soho: A restaurant review
Lily Evans, May 31 2019
There is a fine line between gastro pub and fine dining restaurants these days, and the line has become so blurred that it's difficult to understand exactly where one ends and the other begins. Enter, The Hog's Head in Soho, a local favourite that blends the best of both worlds together.
While the name is reminiscent of a cosy country pub, it is actually a tribute to where the four co-owners went to school: Hogwarts College. The exterior facade suggests that it is a dingy pub with subpar food fare and average drinks, a few al fresco seats are scattered on the footpath, and a large window offers a view into a stone, oak, and mahogany tavern with warm lighting and taxidermied animal heads on the walls.
It is no surprise that the decor resembles that of a hunting lodge, but when one remembers that the owners went to boarding school in the Scottish Highlands, perhaps it isn't too much of a surprise.
What really sets The Hog's Head apart isn't the lush decor, but the warm and hearty food that is equally rustic and sophisticated. The pared back menu features all the usual pub grub one might find at any Rose and Crown, but with a crucial twist.
Entree's are simple but bursting with flavour. And their desserts are sophisticated and so beautiful that they are almost too pretty to eat. But where they shine is their hearty pub-inspired main dishes: bangers and mash are upgraded and strong notes of truffle oil, rosemary, and parsnip crisps accompany the classic. Beef wellington is hearty with a complex, layered jus and dehydrated kale.
The wine and drinks lists are equally as impressive, with each of the four owners' personalities and wild creations featuring on the lists. There is a drink for everyone here, from Peter Pettigrew's Butterbeer, a creamy butterscotch cocktail served with vanilla whipped cream foam to Remus Lupin's Elderflower gin and tonic.
And that brings me to what is probably the most successful component of the well-oiled machine that is The Hog's Head: its' four charming co-owners and their shared history.
When one walks into the restaurant, there is an unbridled sense of history and home that is evident in every single detail: from the way you are greeted and seated, the way at least one of the owners comes to greet you, and even the way in which you are asked for your name and it is remembered when you return.
When I talked to some of the regular patrons of the restaurant, it is this sense of home and familiarity that brings them back; and the fact that the kitchen is helmed by talented chef duo, James Potter and Sirius Black makes returning all the sweeter. Their innovative passion for recreating British classic pub food is mesmerising and delicious, and there are touching tributes to those they love most on the menu.
The Hog's Head is not a restaurant for those seeking a fine-dining establishment with white linen tablecloths and primp and proper wait staff, but for those who crave the taste of home and want to sample the very best of Old Blighty, this is the place for you.