Bordeaux Quay, Bristol , Canons Way, Harbourside, Bristol (0117 943 1200)
Meal for two in the downstairs brasserie, £70
Barney Haughton has much to be proud of. He has just opened a vast restaurant-cum-brasserie-cum-delicatessen-cum-cookery school down on the Bristol waterfront. He has overseen the construction of the eco-friendly building. He has sourced almost all his ingredients from organic suppliers in the south-west to 'shrink the food-miles map'. It's just a shame his kitchen can't make a good Welsh rarebit. The topping was floury and the bread underneath was a foam-mattress sog.
So far, so familiar. Seven years ago I reviewed Barney Haughton's previous Bristol restaurant, Rocinantes (renamed Quartier Vert) and asked similar questions about the value of his noisy commitment to an ethical-food policy when the cooking missed the mark. I wondered why he served orange juice made from concentrate when even my local petrol station sold the fresh stuff. He declared his orange juice 'perfectly acceptable' - it isn't - and enclosed a note from the office of the Prince of Wales praising his efforts. As if I'd care what some bloke whose only claim to fame is his parentage thinks about anything.
Still, I was ready to suspend judgment. Various people, Rick Stein among them, have declared Haughton to be a Very Good Thing. The building is certainly impressive in a sexy, Swedish women's prison sort of way: lots of wood and white space and airiness. Upstairs is the formal restaurant. Downstairs, where we ate, is the brasserie, bar and delicatessen, where the staff were all efficient and charming. They were even efficient and charming as they brought me my bloody glass of his bloody orange juice. How can a man who proclaims himself to be so concerned by the quality of what we put in our gobs still serve an orange juice (organic or not) which, flavourwise, is only a few ice cubes and a dinky slice of fruit away from a dilute-to-taste squash?
Similar questions apply to the brasserie menu. Haughton shouts long and hard about his belief in locality. The place cares about the land, but not what that land might have to say about the dishes that could be prepared from its bounty. It is a garbled culinary Esperanto, with a poor grasp of grammar or vocabulary. Feta salad? Check. Risotto? Check. Moroccan lamb tagine? Check. Italian fish stew? Check.
I would not mind so much were it not for two points. Firstly, those preachy declarations of intent - the website calls Bordeaux Quay 'a hub that links eating, cooking and learning' - demand a complete approach. And secondly, too much of the cooking missed the mark. The chicken-liver parfait was bland. That lamb 'tagine' was a sprightly stew, but it was completely one note and lacked the play of sweet and salt which makes a real tagine what it is. Worst of all was the fish stew, which, while generous - a trio of clams, a couple of mussels, a prawn and various cuts of fish - had a broth with no depth of flavour. It didn't help that the small tranche of monkfish was undercooked - read raw - or that we heard nothing by way of apology when we pointed this out, via the waitress, to the kitchen.
The more expensive upstairs-restaurant menu does have more culinary (though not local) consistency, with leanings towards Italy. And our dense chocolate mousse and creme brulee were faultless, even allowing for the heinous crime of the pureed damsons at the bottom of the latter. Nevertheless, the overall effect was deadening, which is a shame, given the effort that has gone into an admirable project. It's the kind of place where you come away reciting the mission statement and trying not to think about the food. Still, perhaps the Prince of Wales will like it.
