Home House Summer Garden

The Luxury Editor has been fortunate enough to indulge in both the Winter and Spring menus at Portman Square’s elegant private members club and waxed lyrical accordingly. This time we return not to the cosy refinement of the restaurant but to the hustle and bustle of the summer garden. Surrounded by a mixture of residential bricks, commercial mortar and a ton of foliage on all of its four square sides, the space is a haven in and of itself. We arrive at 7ish when the day is still bright and blue but fairy lights already pinprick assorted shapes of shrubbery for an aura of magical realism. A large white structure, somewhere between a wedding tent and perma-construction, dominates the garden’s middle and in it a large screen presents Wimbledon. It’s hot in the city and there’s not a spare seat to be found. An excitable, excited energy canters through the air. Our table isn’t in the tent but a few metres away from it, at the garden’s northernmost periphery, nestled between more shrubbery and a thick tree trunk.

We order glasses of Moēt & Chandon and hit the ground running with an opulent Seafood Platter for two. Served on a mound of ice on top of a silver salver, different flavoured tabasco, mayonnaise, slices of lemon and mignonette sauce contribute to make this is a veritable seafood feast for both the eyes and the tastebuds.

The oysters are rich and super creamy. The King Prawns live up to their name; are firm and meaty. The healthy serving of crab meat is the winner here, though. Presented in a scallop shell, the delicate strands of white meat are accompanied with little more than a dashing of mayonnaise for a sweet, refreshing treat. After this, there’s still a healthy bunch of cold mussels to gnaw on.

I stick with fish for the main course; Whole Baked Sea Bass with fennel salad and citrus dressing. A chargrilled flavour permeates both the fish’s crispy skin and its succulent, fulsome meat and a burnt lemon adds zest. The highest compliment is the dish reminds of Mediterranean tavernas and lapping waves but thankfully without the malevolence of Hitchcockian cats ready to pounce and steal at the diner’s slightest distraction. The fennel salad is generous in helping and its liquorice hints are sweetened with cuts of fresh orange for an overall refreshing, even light, experience.

The name ‘schnitzel’ comes from the German verb ‘schnitten’ meaning “to cut.” Traditionally, therefore, a continental veal schnitzel would come off the bone. Here, it comes on the bone and if not quite as thin as its continental counterpart, still tastes as good. Crispy and breadcrumbed on the outside, the veal is tender and succulent on the inside and rocks a rocket salad on its top like an unkempt head of green hair. Somewhere, a hint of cumin adds an exotic delicacy to the dish. Special mention should go to the Halloumi Fries side order. They don’t look dissimilar to fish fingers in size or shape, are incredibly moreish and before they cool down are practically viscous and stretch stringily once bitten.

One of my dilemmas on the way was whether to have Home House’s (in)famous ‘Posh Twix’ dessert for the third time. On the one hand, its gooey mixture of salted caramel, biscuit and chocolate is near impossible to resist or to top. On the other hand, in the interest of extending one’s palate and culinary breadth, it seemed selfish not to allow other dishes to at least prove their worth and, hopefully, to shine. As it turned out, the decision was made for me; the Posh Twix doesn’t feature on the garden menu.

I opt for the closest alternative. The Chocolate Fudge Sundae is served in the traditional tall, Sundae glass and brims with a decadent mixture of salted caramel, chocolate fudge, vanilla ice cream, lashings of chocolate syrup and mashings of Oreo cookie. A glazed cherry sits colourfully on its top and the sundae melts and melds for a pleasurable muddle of dripping textures and sweet goodness. The Strawberry Eton mess is, ironically, less messy and, actually, structurally, way more formal than the sundae. Thin, elegant shards of meringue replace the normal messier chunks and box in the main dish as if it was a present to take away. As well as the traditional three ingredients of strawberry, meringue and cream, green verbena suggests a citrus twang and stem ginger makes an appearance somewhere. Strawberry purée also surprises at the Mess’s bottom.

Night has finally encroached, smooth and silky like a black velvet glove. The garden’s lighting diffuses a soft glow. No one seems to have left. The waiters still buzz like eternally busy flies. I order an Espresso Martini to energise me for the journey home. It’s sweet, bitter, smooth, and rich all at once and is a perfect way to complete the evening’s extravagance.