Execution fails to match promise

THE last time we ate in Howards restaurant in Stokesley’s College Square, it was called the School House Café and I was suspected of being an undercover environmental health inspector.

I had ordered pork and the inexperienced waitress asked how I would like it cooked.

Slightly taken aback, I asked for it to be medium i.e. hopefully not dry, but within seconds the restaurant manageress had appeared and assured me in a very firm tone that all their pork was cooked through, thoroughly and completely. Absolutely, in fact. It turned out she thought I was a man from Hambleton council’s health department trying to catch them out.

On our return, some four years later, the School House has been through not one but two metamorphoses. It became the Cook’s Room and then changed hands again last year.

Purchased by a man called Graham Howard, a builder from Brotton, it was transformed about eight weeks ago into Howards (no apostrophe), described on its web site as a fine dining establishment, but with hours, and a menu, more akin to a modern café.

On our arrival, the staff were considerably less jumpy than the manager four years ago.

Rather, they were on the cool side. Whether that was because they were trying to be Cool or because they were not that bothered we were not quite sure, but throughout the evening we got the firm impression they were not fully engaged with looking after us.

We were proffered menus almost immediately but had to wait almost 10 minutes before we were asked if we would like a drink. Admittedly, the place was busy, but neither was it full and there seemed to be plenty of staff.

However, we noted there was no sign of the owner, restaurant manager Peter Holligan and, as far as we could see into the partially opn-plan kitchen, head chef Peter Barnes. We know this because we had checked out their pictures on the restaurant web site before our visit.

My first thought on seeing my antipasto (£6.95) was that it was not a patch on the one served by the definitive café hereabouts, the Imperial Express in Darlington. There was one slice of Parma ham, two slices of salami and a slice of a cured beef which might have been bresaola.

Some bread, three large slices of Manchego cheese and a very large bowl of olives completed the plateful, but I couldn’t help but feel a bit cheated that there wasn’t a little more meat.

Sylvia was intrigued as to what was going to make her smoked haddock and pea fishcake on a bed of creamed savoy cabbage so special, given it was the most expensive starter on the menu at £7.25. The answer was, chiefly, size. It was a very large fishcake, the bed of cabbage was king size too, although it was swimming rather in the thin cream sauce. The fishcake itself, Sylvia thought, was fine.

More fish was on its way for her, in the shape of one of the blackboard specials, pollock in beer batter with chips and salad (£10.95). The fish was no better than OK, but the batter was too thick and dark.

The chips were chunky, arranged in one of those rather passé towers, and over done. The salad was plentiful and nicely dressed.

My “Whitby-caught” crab linguine with lime, coriander and chilli butter (£11.45) would, I suspect, have been really very good had chef held back on the lime. Sadly, all I could taste was the chilli and the bitter-sour taste of the lime. The crab could have been caught in Cleethorpes for all I could taste it.

Sylvia settled for a decent cappuccino (£1.60) while I tried an individual apple strudel with vanilla ice cream. The strudel came in the tart-like form with the filo pastry forming the base with the apple on top. The cinnamon- infused filling was excellent but the pastry case was not properly cooked. Instead of being golden and crisp, it was pale and limp.

Like the pasta, it could have been lovely. Poor execution rendered it disappointing.

Had the kitchen work been up to standard, and the service been a little more committed, the £54.90 bill, which included three glasses of cava, would have been fair value. I’m afraid a tip wasn’t forthcoming.