23 July 2008
Tucked away down a littered sidestreet behind the costume hire department of the West Yorkshire Playhouse is Kendell's Bistro. Formerly a Tex-Mex called the Cactus Lounge, the semi-basement space is dark but fortunately no prickly pears remain to punctuate the penumbra. Instead are dark wood tables with an assortment of chairs (apparently Leeds diners like their comfort and complained about the original smart but hard seats), and a view into the kitchen where the eponymous Steve Kendell can be seen labouring over a hot stove.
There is history behind Kendell's, and those old enough to remember Paris in Horsforth (as opposed to the other, less well-known one across the Manche) will know that Steve cooked there, and competently too. This place has an air of the old Paris, with enormous blackboards detailing the set pre-theatre menu and a list of a la carte starters and mains, all in French. Steve's girlfriend does front of house very charmingly and apologies for the spelling mistakes on the blackboards which have been professionally written - inexplicably, by a Chinese English teacher.
Quite a few of the most toothsome sounding mains, disappointingly, have 'sold out' written next to them, despite the fact that it is only 6.30 p.m. on a Wednesday evening.
As one of our number loudly proclaims her right to a bus pass, we agree to eat from the set pre-theatre, menu which is no hardship. It is a Girl's night though we are thin on the ground as one of us has moved to France, another to Scotland and one has texted to say she has a bad foot and will be bathing it in gin and tonic for the night. So the only Girls around are French Spice and Old Spice (who hopefully will not be reading this or long-term friendships will be tested).
Meanwhile Charming Girlfriend brings us hot bread "straight from the oven" which is French but not French, because whilst the crust is wonderfully crispy and hard, the interior is moist and steamy. It does not reach the benchmark set by the Goods Shed but I never expect to eat the like of that again.
I opt for the Potage Lyonnais, which arrives in one of those tiny white porcelain tureen, very hot with gruyere still bubbling on top. It is perfect, the onions having that melting consistency that comes from caramelisation followed by long cooking. I wipe the bowl out with the warm home-made bread and look sadly into the empty depths. Over the table, a slice of pate is being devoured so quickly that I miss my chance of getting a taste. Elsewhere diners are tucking into thin slices of rosy smoked salmon in dill sauce, which is the replacement for the 'sold out' sardines.
Two of us go for the lamb (could have been chicken in tarragon sauce) and my request for it to be served pink is smilingly noted - no cheffy tantrums here. Old Spice chooses tomato tart which surprisingly (and deliciously she says) is a filo pastry version. The food is presented well but without any irritating affectation. My lamb chump is rare on the inside, beautifully dark on the outside, and the sauce it reclines on has the right depth of red-winy flavour without overpowering the meat - which tastes satisfyingly lamby. We have considered side dishes but are told that vegetables are provided, (a more grasping restaurateur would have let us order them anyway) and we are also given a small dish of rather runny dauphinoise potatoes.
I passed on the pudding (currently being Diet Spice rather than Polyanna) but a pot au chocolat served in a plain white espresso cup and a tarte au citron were both pronounced to be paragons of their kinds and despatched within nanoseconds. The bill for three of us just topped £60 including a bottle of wine and a couple of aperitifs. Beat that for Yorkshire value.
Verdict: value for money 9/10 service 9/10 quality of food 9/10
