Barang supper club, The Scrandit: 'Practically euphoric'
Chef Tom Geoffrey is bringing Cambodian cooking to Bristol, and we're all the better for it.
So far, I’ve managed to avoid the cold water swimming trend. While my friends take early morning trips to Clevedon marine lake, armed with dry robes and wet suit shoes, I prefer to spend the extra hours lamenting the rise of the day from the warmth of my duvet. When they post pictures on Instagram, hair clinging to their faces, all rosy and bright-eyed, I am slightly envious. So when my brother thrust Wim Hof’s book into my hands over Christmas and insisted I read it, I obliged.
I have to say, Mr Hof ironically puts forward a watertight argument. I have started taking cold showers. Perhaps soon I’ll take my wetsuit for its third ever outing. But what on earth, or in water, has this got to do with food?
Well, for those that do not wish to take on the ice bucket challenge or punish themselves by standing in snow for hours, I am pleased to tell you that there is another way to feel invigorated, full of life, awakened and purposeful. You just have to spend the evening at the Barang Supper Club.
I have never had a bad meal at The Scrandit, where Tom Geoffrey was cooking his Cambodian fare on a recent Tuesday evening, so expectations were suitably high.
I hadn’t realised when we booked that we were going to be sat around a table with other people. Forced conversation with strangers? I’d rather not, thanks. Having to speak to
is bad enough. Fortunately, the kind of people that go to supper clubs at The Scrandit are the best kind of people, and so contrary to my prejudice the company was superlative. The conversation was peppered with restaurant recommendations, travel stories and anecdotes about large bags of lukewarm prawns. Very entertaining.I’m probably going to get slapped on the wrist for saying this, but I don’t enjoy going to a restaurant and being talked at by the staff for hours. I am interested in where the food comes from, of course, and I like meeting the team, but I don’t need every ingredient explained to me in microscopic detail. Christ, I’ve been in some restaurants where in the three hours it’s taken to explain the tweezered concoction in front of me the bloody thing has gone cold.
Tom Geoffrey did not fall into this trap. A brief introduction told us he’d spent six months travelling in Cambodia and recently moved back to Bristol. The food did the rest of the talking for him. A Cambodian shrimp cracker was alarmingly similar to a Spanish tortillita but augmented by a lively spring onion and chilli relish. A brief bit of online research suggests Spain tried to invade Cambodia 75 years ago but failed; they were only there for four years. Just long enough to introduce the shrimp cracker to the Cambodian menu, which evidence would suggest is worth being invaded for.
The word kumquat always makes me laugh, for at heart I am an immature child. But even I stopped laughing when I tasted the second course of raw scallop, sweet kumquat and makrut lime. This was very serious business indeed. It’s the second instance of raw scallop that has led me to believe we should never have started cooking them; this time punctured with sharp citrus and a chilli kick that would make Erling Haaland nervous. The combination made for the most notable dish I’ve had in weeks.
The only problem with the fried quail that arrived next is that quail is a small bird and so it was over all too quickly. If I were afflicted with a disposition for clickbait I would say that it left me disappointed. But I was not disappointed; for every mouthful I stuffed between my lips topped with the pickled mustard greens and dunked in pepper and lime dipping sauce was deeply satisfying.
At this point I was practically euphoric. Not a single dish had let the side down, a feat almost unheard of, especially on a set menu. A small bowl of the stickiest rice did a worthy job of soaking up the sauce of the accompanying kampot pepper curry with wild boar and heritage tomato, though the latter would likely be Oscar-worthy even without a cast of supporting actors. But Tom Geoffrey clearly likes to show off - he served it with a green papaya, chayote and smoked mackerel salad with curls of chicharrones serving as the cherry on the fruity, fishy cake. A rare but intelligent combination.
Who is this Tom Geoffrey and where has he come from? Well Cambodia, obviously, and London apparently for a bit, but seriously - whatever combination of factors is turning out chefs of this calibre must be captured and replicated tout suite. Let’s put him in a petri dish and see if we can clone him; it would be a crime if this cooking were to escape the grasp of anyone who appreciates good food.
Glutinous rice balls served as the final chapter of an un-put-downable book. Glutinous and gluttonous, rolled in coconut sawdust, filled with quite explosive (I literally ended up wearing it) palm sugar syrup and paired with a shard of coconut meringue. I didn’t need three of them, but what I did manage was a fun and gratifying note to finish on.
I think you could genuinely use the dishes served at Barang to wake me from a coma, if such an unfortunate and unlikely situation were to ever occur. Actually there’s a real chance that will happen, given the number of chefs I’ve pissed off. Best put Tom Geoffrey on speed dial, just in case. Few chefs and supper clubs awaken the senses quite so. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to get in a very cold shower.
Words and photos by Meg Houghton-Gilmour
Barang, The Scrandit, 14 Christmas Steps, BS1 5BS
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