Ekstedt at the Yard

Something of a restaurant and TV personality in his native Sweden, Niklas Ekstedt opened his first restaurant at the tender age of 21 in the harbour town of Helsingborg. He interned, thereafter, at various three-star Michelin restaurants including the holy grail of modernist cuisine, El Buli. He opened the eponymous Ekstedt in Stockholm in 2011 and became a Michelin-starred sensation wherein he pioneered fire as the only element in which to cook. Using the same principle, Ekstedt at the Yard is his first UK based endeavour and is tucked away in the funky sassiness of Westminster’s Great Scotland Yard Hotel. (Read our review here).

Belying the formality of its name and exterior architecture, the hotel’s practically all-in-one reception area/bar is a paen to deliberate but happy mismatching of styles tied together by bold contemporary art. Some of the art you look at on the wall, some of it peers out at you from a table, some of it you even sit on. Ekstedt is a quieter, arguably more contemplative concern, a few meters beyond this glamorous chintz. Low-ceilinged, atmospherically lit, long but relatively narrow, its interior design is a tribute to Scandinavian flora. Colourful and large wreaths decorate parts of the ceiling, dried flowers hang from brick walls, and containers full of pickled ingredients fill out slick, mirrored shelves. A large, round, black oven dominates the left end of the room as you enter but is dominated itself by the open kitchen by its side. In the kitchen’s heart, a fire constantly flickers with a beguiling array of sunset colours. From time to time, it emits waves of heat, wafts of BBQ, whiffs of herbs.

The 8-course taster menu is a journey in every sense and, somewhat unexpectedly, it starts in the kitchen. Oysters are cooked on the grill, beef fat is heated in a flambadou and mixed with beurre blanc and small chunks of juniper smoked apple. The oyster swims in the sauce and once all is consumed, we’re encouraged to pour our drink into the emptied shell for a white wine/beef fat extravaganza. The experience is quick and quirky but fun. It’s basically a lavish amuse-bouche; there’s only one oyster per person so by the time you’ve worked out what’s going, you’re back at the table, remembering how hot the fire was.

The next dish is also an amuse-bouche in size but comes as two for the price of one. A dainty, Swiss chocolate-sized hay croustade brims with aged beef tartar, vendence roe, small chops of onion and a smokey mayonnaise. It sits on an elegant metallic leaf next to a scallop shell. The ember-baked scallop is partially hidden under a smokey-flavoured foam decorated with small strands of green sugar kelp for visual punctuation.

The next dishes are more substantial in size but as sublime as their smaller counterparts. Smoked veal tartar may not be for everyone, both from a conceptual and moral viewpoint, but it’s probably the standout dish here, exotically aided by the mustard ice cream, the garlic leaves, the dried egg bits which provide a smoky twist, and a sprinkling of cumin. Mash the ingredients together for a surprisingly pure and clean but mouthwatering sensation. The ice cream coldens the dish so it’s worth leaving for a minute after mashing before tucking in.

The grilled lobster is served in two distinct offerings. The bright red tail is presented on a large plate, surrounded by a semi-circle of fluffy lobster foam, underscored with pickled celeriac and an edging of green oil. On a separate wooden coaster smaller but equally fresh and chunky chops of lobster, this time from the body, accompany. It’s not quite a lobster taco, either in presentation or taste, but it’s heading in that direction, it is saltier than its tail counterpart but balances with a different texture of celeriac purée.

If so inclined, you can choose either a Volcanic wine or an Emerging region wine pairing in addition to the tasting menu. We opt for the former and the notion that volcanic wines are less dense but more concentrated in flavour, something to do with water draining through the volcanic soil easier than regular soil. The pairings stick mainly in Europe (Germany, Greece, Italy, Hungary, Portugal) but go as far afield as, surprisingly, Oregon, USA. Each wine is presented by the affable and enthusiastic sommelier, Klearchos Kanellakis from Greece who was recently voted as number 41 in the UK’s top 100 Sommelier. A couple of times Klearchos pulls out his phone to illustrate unique methods the vineyards use to encourage their unique flavours; in Santorini, for example, manufacturers twist roots into a large basket. Hanging inside the basket, grapes are protected from the wind and access to water in the generally dry terrain is ameliorated through condensation. 

For the Juniper smoked lamb saddle, Klearchos treats us to Feudi di San Gregorio from Taurasi, Italy. It’s smooth but fruity and exotic, a perfect partner to the chunk of lamb which occasionally bleeds but is pink both in the middle and the outside and still has a crispy edging and a succulent layer of fat. A smokey fire grill flavour permeates. A helping of rich, chicken sauce is poured at the table and a tablespoon of stewed lamb is a curious but pleasant surprise wrapped within nettle leaves, topped by black garlic. The dish is a delicate feast, both thoughtful and ultimately very satisfying.  

An oblong scoop of hay smoked ice cream is served in a round wooden bowl almost as a palate cleanser. If the ice cream is subtle, the pickled rhubarb gives it a tart kick and the oatmeal underneath, by its very nature, reminds of breakfast. Crunchy oatmeal is also a constituent of the final dish – Cep (mushroom) soufflé – but is served on a separate plate with blueberries and milk ice cream. It’s another savoury pairing in what would be a more traditionally sweet finish.

The soufflé is perfectly formed with a harder top and a softer middle and once one’s brain has adapted to the unexpected, the mushroom soufflé is a delirious and daring way to end the meal. Only it isn’t because we’re presented with a quaint bowl of multi-coloured, dried flowers in which are hidden three sweeter treats; a shortbread pastry with plum jam, a macadamia praline chocolate and a quince jelly sweet with fizzy granules of sugar.

If the idea of going on a journey using food as the sole mode of transport sounds a clichéd or even dubious claim, Ekstedt at the Yard proves otherwise and that this journey is essential for any self-respecting foodie.