Sharing Mezze Feast at Soukitchen, Clifton
There’s something about dining out on Valentine’s Day that tends to spark controversy. You can’t, in the company of a certain type of cynic, even mention having obtained a reservation on the evening of Valentine’s Day without being chastised for this great folly, and having horror stories relayed of packed-out restaurants with tables squashed so close together you could bump elbows with your fellow loved-up diner, or of the astronomical hike in prices (the premium to pay for an evening of culinary romance), or even the less-than-savoury conversation carrying from the couple on the table opposite that, however hard you might try, is impossible to block out.
But, for all of its obvious drawbacks, there’s a lot to be said about dining out on the evening of love. Not to go too Richard Curtis, but the romantic soul in me can’t help but enjoy the observational aspect of participating in this particular occasion, of seeing couples of all age ranges dining out together; catching self-conscious stolen glances between one pair, or the fits of giggles from another. Everyone dressed to impress and here simply for the purpose of celebrating their affection for the people opposite them.
Perhaps it’s the people-watcher in me that finds such quiet satisfaction in the shared experience, or maybe it’s the memory of the locked-in Valentines and birthdays of the previous few years that has me still reeling with joy and relief to be able to mark an occasion outside of the confines of the sofa. Whatever the reason, it was with this joie de vivre that I stepped into the cosy, conservatory-like interior of Soukitchen in Clifton on Valentine’s Eve.
Turkish delight vodka and pomegranate liquor cocktail
After we were warmly greeted and seated, being a romantic at heart, I couldn’t resist ordering the Valentine’s special cocktail: a decadent concoction composed of Turkish delight vodka and pomegranate liquor, topped with rose petals and served with a small square of actual Turkish delight alongside.
This was a drink that should, from the sounds of it, have run the risk of teetering on the side of sickly-sweet, but was thankfully beautifully countered by the sourness of the pomegranate. My fellow diner ordered a cocktail of fresh tarragon, fennel water, lime and vodka: subtly fragrant and refreshing.
Now, it may be cliche to admit that from the very first course of the mezze feast I knew we were in for a treat, but cliches exist for a reason and, in the case of this particular feast, it was true. What our menu unassumingly referred to simply as the ‘nibbles’ to start off the meal arrived in the form of two bowls of dip alongside a pile of pillowy, warm, gorgeously soft flatbreads smeared with fragrant za’atar. The dips, perfectly complementing each other, were a creamy sweet potato topped with a tahini and basil dressing and a sprinkling of dukkah, balanced perfectly by the earthiness of the crimson beetroot dip, the latter of which I am certain would convert even the staunchest beetroot-denier.
Confit duck and apricot briouat
Next up, the confit duck and apricot briouat: a crisp, warm buttery pastry encasing succulent and rich duck and countered with a smear of tart quince puree.
It was nothing short of heavenly, and demanded a moment of silence to truly relish the flavour. Slabs of Abbots Leigh halloumi, slathered in cloyingly sweet black seed honey, were delicious albeit hefty; but this was a feast indeed, and not one we would leave hungry.
The expertly curated dishes continued to arrive in quick succession, brought out in pairs. These included a winter salad of radicchio, fennel, blood orange and kalamata olive crumb, the bitterness of which was lifted through a scattering of candied walnuts; earthy portobello mushrooms stuffed with freekeh and cured egg yolk, sat atop a mushroom puree and was topped with raw shaved chestnut mushrooms and cep powder.
Radicchio and blood oranges salad; Portobello Mushrooms with freekeh
Lamb bonbon; Grilled heritage cauliflower and pomegranate molasses
Another highlight of the evening arrived in the form of a slow-cooked mechuoi lamb bonbon served with a creamy almond tarator and a tower of chargrilled heritage cauliflower which was smothered in a moreish combination of muhammara, pomegranate molasses and tahini. The crunchy casing of the bonbon fell away to reveal beautifully tender spiced lamb, while the tarator proved a slightly-sweet garlicky kick. Were it not for my personal fondness for duck, I think this final mezze would have stolen the show; but, as it stands, it came a very close second.
As the evening wore on, the restaurant gradually became emptier and the buzzing undercurrent of the early evening atmosphere had petered off into a much quieter and more intimate affair; one of soft, hushed tones. I was starting to flag, filled to the brim and ready to fall into a Monday-night stupor when our trio of desserts arrived.
The desserts, though beautifully presented and in the form of a gorgeously soft and light honeyed basbousa, a thick, syrupy, sugar-soaked baklava and a rich, dark chocolate labneh truffle, were far too much for us to manage after such an extensive feast, but far too beautiful to waste.
I hate food waste, and have no qualms about requesting a doggy-bag to squirrel leftover treats away with me, to enjoy at home later; a souvenir of an evening of delights. We asked for a box and took them to go and, absolutely stuffed, dragged ourselves home; not, it must be admitted, to continue an evening of romance, but instead to collapse in a pile on the sofa. After 8 fabulous full courses- Valentine’s or not- what else is there to do?
Written by Katherine Keir
I’m Kat, a 24y/o literature graduate. I studied at Leeds and then moved to Bristol, where I’ve lived and worked for the past 3 years. I’m an avid foodie and love exploring Bristol’s independent food and cafe scene. Having grown up in rural Herefordshire, I’m a bit of a country bumpkin at heart. When I’m not eating, you’ll find me reading, writing or gardening.
