Midsummer House
Much ado about Midsummer nothing
Review
In these early months of 2010, there only seem to be four miserable hours of sunlight a day. Daily precipitation, whether frozen or liquid, can be relied upon. In such circumstances, Itchy feels that one way to cheer up should be the treat of a top-class lunch at what's reputed to be Cambridge's finest dining experience: Midsummer House. It's won more than one Michelin star over the under owner Daniel Clifford. But can it live up to its renown?
We're off to a bad start: Itchy manages to get soaking wet crossing Midsummer Common towards our destination. Once in the door, approximately five waiters are immediately on hand to take our dripping jackets. The restaurant is crowded with staff, and empty of punters. It's an ominous sign.
Rain does not agree with Midsummer House. It has twice been ruined by floods, and on further reflection, a drenched January day might not be the best time to take advantage of its vaunted location on the River Cam. The architecture is heavy on glass; Itchy has the impression of being somewhere between a carwash and a conservatory. The furniture's pale palette adds nary a warm note to the chilly ambience. 
We browse the menu, dripping, as a waiter hovers. This will be a feature – Itchy finds that according to the laws of probability, in all possible universes Midsummer House will have at least one faintly hostile waiter, hovering. Although Top Table is advertising [to date 22/02/2009] a lunchtime menu of £24 for two courses or £30 for three, Midsummer House sniffily declares that this must be Top Table's mistake; lunch is £29.50 for two courses, £35 for three. The prices on the wine list are so fearsome that Itchy remains struck dumb on the subject.
Itchy has come to expect a range of delicious breads to be offered up for delectation at any restaurant of quality. Rather unexpectedly, at Midsummer it's back to the bad old days of plain rolls and a stubborn lump of butter. An amuse bouche arrives, a glass of frothy orange that is revealed to be a sweet pumpkin veloute with caramelised mushrooms lurking unexpectedly beneath. An adventurous palate, but a dubious success, if success is not an exaggeration. Itchy's starter of scallops and radish sorbet in miso soup is a more than faintly unpleasant dish, while our friend's quail salad with roasted grapes and braised hazelnuts is somewhat more palatable. 
On venturing upstairs for a toilet break, Itchy spots the only other customers; a corporate luncheon of twenty, gathered together in a be-suited, munching coven in a private room. For this restaurant of all name and no taste, this group just might leave contented. Itchy can report that the bathroom is rather fabulous.
On return, it is an adventure to investigate which ingredient is which in the fillet of pork main with braised shoulder, black pudding puree and shallots. Each component is elaborately disguised in the most unlikely shapes and textures. The pan fried sea bream main with butter beans, red pepper and chorizo is bland but wholesome, inoffensive at best.
Itchy doesn't opt for dessert. Enquiries about what cheeses are available are met somewhat defensively by the waiter, who doesn't know. Sensing dissatisfaction, he asks, rather aggressively, whether we have enjoyed our meal. Itchy grits a smile. Between 12.5% VAT, service charge, and the price of the water, the overall bill came to something rather horrific. This institution's swollen rep seems to be a case of much ado about Midsummer nothing.
www.midsummerhouse.co.ukNaomi O'Leary
We're off to a bad start: Itchy manages to get soaking wet crossing Midsummer Common towards our destination. Once in the door, approximately five waiters are immediately on hand to take our dripping jackets. The restaurant is crowded with staff, and empty of punters. It's an ominous sign.
Rain does not agree with Midsummer House. It has twice been ruined by floods, and on further reflection, a drenched January day might not be the best time to take advantage of its vaunted location on the River Cam. The architecture is heavy on glass; Itchy has the impression of being somewhere between a carwash and a conservatory. The furniture's pale palette adds nary a warm note to the chilly ambience.
We browse the menu, dripping, as a waiter hovers. This will be a feature – Itchy finds that according to the laws of probability, in all possible universes Midsummer House will have at least one faintly hostile waiter, hovering. Although Top Table is advertising [to date 22/02/2009] a lunchtime menu of £24 for two courses or £30 for three, Midsummer House sniffily declares that this must be Top Table's mistake; lunch is £29.50 for two courses, £35 for three. The prices on the wine list are so fearsome that Itchy remains struck dumb on the subject.
Itchy has come to expect a range of delicious breads to be offered up for delectation at any restaurant of quality. Rather unexpectedly, at Midsummer it's back to the bad old days of plain rolls and a stubborn lump of butter. An amuse bouche arrives, a glass of frothy orange that is revealed to be a sweet pumpkin veloute with caramelised mushrooms lurking unexpectedly beneath. An adventurous palate, but a dubious success, if success is not an exaggeration. Itchy's starter of scallops and radish sorbet in miso soup is a more than faintly unpleasant dish, while our friend's quail salad with roasted grapes and braised hazelnuts is somewhat more palatable.
On venturing upstairs for a toilet break, Itchy spots the only other customers; a corporate luncheon of twenty, gathered together in a be-suited, munching coven in a private room. For this restaurant of all name and no taste, this group just might leave contented. Itchy can report that the bathroom is rather fabulous.
On return, it is an adventure to investigate which ingredient is which in the fillet of pork main with braised shoulder, black pudding puree and shallots. Each component is elaborately disguised in the most unlikely shapes and textures. The pan fried sea bream main with butter beans, red pepper and chorizo is bland but wholesome, inoffensive at best.
Itchy doesn't opt for dessert. Enquiries about what cheeses are available are met somewhat defensively by the waiter, who doesn't know. Sensing dissatisfaction, he asks, rather aggressively, whether we have enjoyed our meal. Itchy grits a smile. Between 12.5% VAT, service charge, and the price of the water, the overall bill came to something rather horrific. This institution's swollen rep seems to be a case of much ado about Midsummer nothing.
www.midsummerhouse.co.ukNaomi O'Leary
