New Kid On The Block: restaurant review

Kate Baldwin, Sunday 11 May 2014

Fancy it: The sultry interior of The Fancy Goat in Kentish town West Malling

40 High Street, West Mal l ing, ME19 6QR (01732 871 222). Meal for two including drinks: £80

Kent’s historic town, West Malling, is fast becoming animal farm. The Fancy Goat, The Swan, The Scared Crow and The Bull, are just a few hoofed and winged contingents. We’re in the midst of a culinary invasion, and its posh animals at the helm. The newest watering hole in town is The Fancy Goat; it promises to be a fine dining restaurant, swanky wine bar, coffee shop and above all, fancy. High heels everywhere chattered at the prospect of having somewhere new to practice mating rituals.

The name ‘Fancy Goat’ gives a little nod to understanding the well-to-do country clientele. We demand authentic, quintessentially British quirk; country chic, with no mud to mess up our Hunters. Unfortunately, to paraphrase a TripAdvisor reviewer, ‘there ainʼt nothing fancy about this goat’.

The Goat inhabits a unique Grade I listed building. It comes with built in character; from the Dickensian looking windows, the striking beams and charming higgledy piggledy floors to the beautiful facade. Unfortunately, it feels like it has had its soul

ripped out and replaced with the latest Scandi-chic from Ikea. It is about as welcoming as a dentist’s waiting room with its painfully cool lack of soft furnishings and grey wallpaper. A wooden-clad feature wall serves as an attempt to add texture and warmth, an effect that could only be achieved if you set it on fire.

A la Carte: Pumpkin risotto

We ate from the a la Carte menu. A pumpkin risotto and a chicken terrine to start, followed by confit duck and gorgonzola & walnut pasta; decent gastro-pub offerings, but not the ʻfine diningʼ fair I was promised. However, if executed perfectly, we would have happily cleared our plates, considered The Goat pretentious and not fancy, and probably returned again. Alas, the ‘al dente’ risotto was ‘al disgusting’ and enough to chip any freshly whitened Hollywood gnashers. I think there was something orange in it, which must have been the pumpkin, but I couldn’t be sure. The other starter arrived about 5 minutes

later, a bland uninspiring, terrine, garnished with lumps of sea salt. I’ve not seen sea salt used as a garnish before, so ten out of ten for originality.

Our main courses arrived in reasonable time, but turned out to be worse than the starters. To say the duck was overdone would be kind; it was really canard, Rodney. It was paired with an unidentifiable lumpy sauce. Cavalo nero was thrown about the plate and was well on its way to being kale biltong. This pasta dish should have been simple and triumphant with expertly sourced gorgonzola, crunchy toasted walnuts and al dente homemade pasta. Perhaps Ikea ran out of pasta rollers. The dish served to us was cheap dried conchiglie, boiled relentlessly. A low grade, salty blue cheese was further seasoned to compliment the saline starter. The sauce was studded with chewy sundried tomatoes and a few soggy walnuts. Needless to say, dessert was not ordered.

The country pound is willingly spent on good food, good beer and good wine these days. We are fast becoming as jaded and spoilt as our city counterparts. Villages like West Malling are peppered with gastro-pubs, restaurants, wine bars and cafes. Curly egg sandwiches and oily potatoes left to fester on sticky pub bars are no longer accepted as good country cuisine. We want London style; with welly boots on. The Fancy Goat has a long way to go before it can dub itself ʻfancyʼ, nevermind ʻfine diningʼ. You can’t pull the wool over the eyes of these country folk; putting a bow-tie on a goat certainly doesn’t make it fancy.