Food review: The Alchemist, Birmingham

Birmingham-born chef Glynn Purnell probably spoke for lots of independent restaurateurs recently when he bemoaned the take-over of the Second City.

Glynn had a bee in his bonnet about chains-that-don’t-look-like-chains, saying a new wave of reasonably sophisticated restaurants that appeared to be local were crowding out independent businesses.

While every town seems to have a Zizzi, Prezzo, Ask and Pizza Express, not all have a Gusto, Alchemist or Gaucho. In Birmingham, all three are within walking distance and all look as though they’re an intrinsic part of the city’s Colmore Row dining zone.

Glynn was fed up that discerning customers might be led there rather than, for instance, his own bistro, which is just around the corner. He makes a valid point. With few exceptions, these days you have to head into Birmingham’s suburbs for independent dining. Like so many parts of London, the city has been taken over by multiples who are offering the same food that you might find at Hampstead, Richmond, Leeds, Manchester and Edinburgh.

And yet such restaurants serve a purpose, adding variety to the region’s dining offer. While Gusto offers a classic and contemporary Italian-influenced menu and Gaucho focuses on great steaks and food from Argentina, The Alchemist is all about cool cocktails, all-day dining and global comfort food. So, for instance, it has a wide range of burgers, wraps and fillet steak or fish finger sandwiches. There are starters that originate from the Far East, Mexico and the Med while mains are dominated by such staples as steak, sea bass, tuna, lamb and chicken in various guises.

I tend to think The Alchemist isn’t really about the food, in truth; it’s more about the illusion of glamour and the lure of fancy drinks. It’s located in the city’s former Grand Hotel, one of Birmingham’s best-loved and most famous buildings. As the website says, imposing vaulted ceilings provide the perfect setting for our distinctly dark artworks and suitably sinister taxidermy. A basement over a century old provides the perfect laboratory for experimentation and The Alchemist’s first ever nitrogen-infused Negroni tap brings the ridiculous to the sublime.

It’s a round-the-clock joint, where in the morning you can feast on a £10 full English comprising bacon, eggs, sausage, mushroom, tomato, hash browns, black pudding, baked beans and toast; or something not quite so fattening, like a coconut yoghurt with granola.

There are plenty of nibbles and sharing plates, from £2.50 to £6, including pork bon bons, crispy kale, olives and more. Starters are nachos, chicken wings, California rolls, ribs, fish cakes and spring rolls. My friend and I called in for a midweek supper, booking an early table for two. By six o’clock, the place was already two-thirds full as couples and workers ditched plans for dinner a deux at the kitchen table and decided to let someone else cook.

We started with an order-and-share selection of nibbles, including mac‘n’cheese bites with chipotle mayo, pork bon bons with chipotle mayo and edamame beans with soy and sea salt. The edamame were a little too greasy, in truth, having been fried before arriving with their dipping sauce. The mac’n’cheese bites were brilliant. Tiny, one-cm squared amalgams of mac‘n’cheese were enveloped in a crisp bread crumb coating then dipped into an unctuous mayo. Delish. The bon bons were equally good. Savoury, flavour-packed pork was rolled into small balls then coated in a golden breadcrumb, ready for dipping into the creamy mayo.

We decided it would be rude not to tuck into a decent burger, given the choice before us. And so she ate a nicely-seasoned beef patty with cheese, bacon, a tiny pot of ketchup and a neatly acidulated gherkin. It was served with salt and pepper fries, which weren’t much to speak of.

The burger was decent, though it didn’t leave us purring. There was no option for it to be cooked pink, it wasn’t advertised as being made from some particularly enjoyable dry-aged cut; it was just a better-than-average burger and fries that had been pimped with decent bacon and cheese. Pleasant: yes. Memorable: not really.

I opted for the katsu chicken, but ended up wishing I’d decided on the jerk chicken with dumplings, rice and peas. The katsu was reasonable. The panko breadcrumb was delicious and the garnish of crispy kale and perfectly-cooked and nicely-fragrant rice was a delight. The katsu was also decent, allowing me to dip and eat as I made my way through the plate. But the chicken was overcooked. Doh. I’m thinking of starting a national campaign to encourage chefs to cook chicken properly; so many reduce the texture to chalky over-doneness when it out to be soft, yielding and brimful of savoury juice.

We stuck around for dessert, tucking into a baked lemon cheesecake with a lemoncello glaze and unseasonal strawberries. Again, it was just better than average, though it was a little cloying and not as light as we might have hoped. The glaze was too sweet and I’ve no idea why any self-respecting restaurant is serving strawberries at the end of winter when British berries haven’t started to form. I realise we live in an age of globalisation when we can enjoy Yak’s milk from the Tibetan Plateau or strawberries from southern Europe or Africa; but, really, what’s the point? Surely it’s better to wait until spring, summer and autumn to eat non-hot-housed varieties that taste of strawberry rather than water.

The bill was £60, which felt about right, or was perhaps a little on the high side. And we had an enjoyable experience in a beautifully renovated dining room where service – Errelisha was our waitress’s name – was first class. Errelisha was polite, attentive, punctual, efficient and downright pleasant.

Restaurants could do with more like her; though The Alchemist is perhaps deluded to think that it’s at the level where a 10 per cent service charge is added to bills. Unless circumstances are exceptional, there’s no reason not to leave it to customers to decide whether to tip.

The Alchemist offers guests easy eating, a great dining room and classy service. But though the environment and staff were high class, the food wasn’t at the standard of some of its neighbours – and a million miles short of the dishes on offer at independents like Purnell’s Bistro.