** This article is a repost – it was originally posted on the 25th of February, 2019**

By Josh Ong

In all honesty, IÔÇÖm not quite sure how to start this article. I had the lucky opportunity to visit Gareth WardÔÇÖs restaurant, Ynyshir, for an extended lunch and, whilst attempting to avoid the use of hyperboles, IÔÇÖm not sure IÔÇÖve ever experienced anything like it. ItÔÇÖs rare for Quench to write about anything of this sort, given our regular demographic, but it would be disrespectful and downright dishonourable for me not to sing my praise at this place.

Tucked away at the very heart of rural mid-Wales, the journey there is something to behold itself. Despite my residence in Cardiff, you tend to forget the Middle-Earthian beauty that lies just an hour north of the city; perhaps thatÔÇÖs more of a comment on my own obliviousness to my surroundings rather than its location. In terms of the setting of the restaurant, the description of rural would definitely be the most accurate. Just a stoneÔÇÖs throw from the west coast, yet tucked away in a trademark Welsh valley, the scenery is simply stunning. This is only coupled with the building that houses it all; understated, finding beauty from its simplicity. Where other Michelin Starred institutes would choose to flash their various accolades, Ynyshir provides an aptly refreshing stance in fighting against this (The only trace I could find of a display of their Michelin Star was, oddly enough, in the bathroom). If I were to give the closest comparison from the first impressions alone, from scenery to service, it certainly reminded me of Josh EggletonÔÇÖs Pony & Trap, a restaurant much closer to home.

Nevertheless, the interior setting of the restaurant was one which definitely matched the style of service. Upon entry, we were informed by the waiting staff that things would be perhaps a little more on the relaxed side from most other fine dining institutions. I often tend to take the ÔÇÿwe donÔÇÖt do that hereÔÇÖ approach from all restaurants with a pinch of salt; from my experience, itÔÇÖs often just used as a way of being ÔÇÿdifferentÔÇÖ, rather than actually serving any real utility. Fortunately, to my joy, that wasnÔÇÖt the case here; but more on that later. The environment and setting certainly served as a recurring theme throughout the lunch, and therefore will naturally do the same throughout this article, too.

IÔÇÖm a big believer in Michelin Starred restaurants needing to provide a full experience, as opposed to exceptional food; the places IÔÇÖve found most disappointing, notably Marcus WareingÔÇÖs flagship in Knightsbridge, have often had great food, but been constrained down by lifeless and vanilla surroundings. Ynyshir itself boasts a very open design, with the kitchen acting as the key focus. However, itÔÇÖs worth stating that we had the fortune of managing to book the Kitchen table, getting the chance to overlook the working pastry section. So naturally, as an unashamed enthusiast of attempting to understand kitchen workflows and processes, my opinion might be a little on the biased side.

Nevertheless, despite the promises of not doing things the same way as other restaurants of the same calibre, the tasting menu was very reminiscent of one I experienced at Casamia a few years back. With just one or two words, or in a few cases mere acronymic, descriptions, in this case, itÔÇÖs a formula that didnÔÇÖt require adaptation. The deliberately vague descriptions succeeded in sparking intrigue, leaving us to try and decipher W.T.F the N.F.O.S, was.

Now, whilst a traditional review of a place would run through and meticulously examine every ingredient and how they work in harmony, or not in some cases, given that this lunch was a gargantuan 21 courses, I, and those of you reading this, would be here all day if I did that. Instead, IÔÇÖm going to highlight some of the key courses from throughout the four and a half hour food marathon.

Bread

Course 3 of 21 was the first one that blew my proverbial socks off. This was a kind of turbocharged bread and butter, with a little ÔÇÿmeat-obsessedÔÇÖ wildcard thrown in, as promised on the back of the menu. The bread was nothing short of exceptional; a 7 day cold-proved sourdough packed from edge to edge with yeasty punch, heightened by the textural crunch of fermented grains and deliberately burnt crusty exterior. Whilst remarkable in its own right, its accompanying elements only helped elevate it higher. ItÔÇÖs pairing with a miso butter and whipped dripping, taken from dry-aged Welsh Wagyu beef, was truly a meat-loverÔÇÖs dream. The dripping was one of those wholly unique experiences, as if one were to sink their teeth into a whole leg of dry-aged beef. From nutiness, funkiness to umami hit, it was the essence of dry-aged beef, in a spreadable, toast-friendly medium. It was nothing short of phenomenal, and certainly the stuff dreams are made of (Maybe not everyoneÔÇÖs dreams, but I can certainly vouch for my own). You could certainly feed me this ÔÇÿtill I want no more; this truly was the Bread of Heaven.

Char Siu

This dish, from itÔÇÖs limited description on the menu, was the one that filled me most with anticipation. Growing up in an asian family, my familiarity with char-siu pork is well documented and close to my heart. Upon arrival at the table, the aroma produce from the dish was enough to make me grab my cutlery before the camera, only remembering to document the dish after one of the two slices had already gone. Without overstating it, it was absolutely perfect. Similar to that moment in Ratatouille where critic Anton Ego is transported back to his rural French upbringing after a spoonful of that French stew, I was immediately transported back to a Sunday morning in a dim-sum house just outside of Swindon surrounded by Oriental aromas and experiences. Personal side-effects aside, this was a dish that showed WardÔÇÖs true colours. His use of traditional French techniques in unison with modern Asian flavours and flair was evident throughout, with this dish serving as a key example. The dish bore the smoke-profile I have only encountered in a few other places, all of which I yearn to return to daily; Casamia, Paco Tapas, Hangfire Southern Kitchen and HeaneyÔÇÖs Cardiff, to name but a few. All of these were delicate but acted as a lift to accentuate the flavour of all meat involved. The porkÔÇÖs smokiness was matched perfectly with the underhand soy seasoning, tied together with that subtle sweetness to send it home, all without the radioactive redness common to most Char Siu found in your average Chinese takeaway. By using water-baths in conjunction with a barbecued finish, Ward was able to accomplish that beautiful charred crust, whilst aptly avoiding an overcooked gradient present in traditional high heat grilling. This dish was certainly the perfect one for me; a sous-vide & barbecue loving man from an asian background – Ward certainly knew how to push all of my buttons.

Welsh Lamb

Despite only holding one space on the menu, this was actually a trio of dishes, utilising different cuts of lamb. Being the only dish in bold on the menu, itÔÇÖs clear this was intended as the centrepiece, and rightly so. Given the setting and location of the restaurant, it would have been nothing short of wasteful to not use local ingredients surrounding Ynyshir. The N.F.O.S, ÔÇÿNot French Onion SoupÔÇÖ, if you were still perplexed as to what it stood for, utilised seaweed picked from nearby areas that very morning, and, whilst the lamb dishes didnÔÇÖt use fresh ingredients to that degree, all of the meat was sourced from local herds. All three were clear in their desires to illustrate the quality of the ingredients at hand. If I were to choose a favourite out of the three, it would be the third dish, taken from the neck of the animal. This was paired with a beautiful cherry ketchup which helped cut through the richness of the lamb, resulting in that perfectly balanced unctuousness that leaves your entire mouth coated in an ideal combination of sweet and savoury. I truly adored all three lamb dishes, each with their own unique marriage of aromats and profound meatiness.

Fudge

Simple in name, simple in nature? Not quite. If youÔÇÖre struggling to think how such a simple cube of fudge made it onto this otherwise seemingly intricate menu, youÔÇÖd be in the same boat that I found myself in a while ago. YouÔÇÖd be easily forgiven in your assumption that this was a merely well refined and balanced fudge; quite the opposite really. This fudge decides to sit alongside the rest of the menu in playing into the hearts of meat-eaters alike. Instead of butter, naturally, Ward uses a repeat offender from an earlier dish, dry-aged Welsh Wagyu beef fat. Despite the infant-sized sized snacks appearance, the incorporation of fat produced that same ethereal mouth feel created by the whipped dripping from earlier, albeit with a whole new sweet spin. This was certainly a surprising addition to the menu with its ability to shock even the most unwavering of palates. The profoundly nutty taste occupied me the whole two and a half hour drive home.

I wasnÔÇÖt sure how long this article would end up being, but I knew I would have to stop mindlessly complimenting everything at some point. For the most part, this has been a wholly restrained piece; my experience at Ynyshir is one that I would happily talk about all day, every day. That being said, in the name of balance, I better discuss something not as positive. If I were to point out one dish which wasnÔÇÖt up to scratch, itÔÇÖd be the hoisin duck. There was nothing wrong with this dish, it was incredibly well polished. Its combination of water-bathed duck alongside delicate cucumber and customary hoisin sauce was great and struck a familiar chord, but perhaps just a little too familiar. The dishÔÇÖs downfall came from playing it a little too close to the safe-side. There was nothing bad about the dish, but there was nothing that stood out amongst its esteemed company on the menu.

To bring it all to a close, I have to return to a point made in my opening remarks. To me, what makes a Michelin Starred institution stand out from the crowd comes from its provision of an experience that stands higher than merely exceptional food. From beautiful setting to knowledgable waiting staff, some of whom were more than happy to drop an expletive in their praise of certain dishes, I, alongside the diners alongside us, felt truly welcomed there. The move away from the traditional fine dining order provided a fresh, inviting ambience, allowing new opportunities for those disillusioned by the customs and traditions of other Michelin Starred institutions a chance to still experience food of the highest calibre. Ward is clearly the architect of Ynyshir and lies deep at the heart of its operation. Our menu, ÔÇÿourÔÇÖ as the menu changes daily, was certainly a reflection of WardÔÇÖs culinary journey. His origins in classic French techniques are only brought to life by his own personal flair and interest in pan-asian cuisines. ItÔÇÖs difficult to truly put into words how this experience made me feel, but thatÔÇÖs the beauty of it all really. Food, like art, remains entirely subjective to the individual; my personal connection with many of these dishes wonÔÇÖt perhaps hit the same spot as everyone else, but thatÔÇÖs perfectly alright. Perhaps those which didnÔÇÖt connect with me as well might hit that sweet spot for someone else. As long as Ward continues to tell stories and spark the imagination of others with his menus, Ynyshir deserves to retain itÔÇÖs spot as WalesÔÇÖ best restaurant. If Ward doesnÔÇÖt receive his second star in the near future, itÔÇÖll be a gross injustice of the sheer excellence that he continues to conjure up on a daily basis.