A meal without a single missed beat is as strange as a non-menopausal Paul Hollywood fan
Not enough attention is paid to bread in restaurants. The new Nordic practice of delivering it as its own course with all due ceremony is fine by me. Bread is both signifier and statement of intent,be it Michelin-chirpsing pancetta-studded brioche or heated-up industrial baguette that might as well have “avoid” stamped through it like a stick of seaside rock.
The bread at Lake Road Kitchen is perfect: not-sour sourdough (it’s to achieve with keeping the starter out of the fridge, apparently, or checking it as regularly as a mother does a newborn). The crumb is enchantingly springy,the crust all satisfying, well-fired crunch. It comes with “virgin” butter: newly churned, or slightly granular from the buttermilk,a lactic, creamy delight with the shelf life of a mayfly. Spooned thickly on to the bread and sprinkled with rock salt – paradise.
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Source: theguardian.com