Furna is unashamedly a restaurant for grown-ups. There’s no whiff of the juvenile about this place. Nothing here is trying to ride a trend. From the sleek, muted decor to the kitchen-as-stage at the back of this classy Brighton-centre restaurant, Furna is what you get when a chef knows he’s got something special and isn’t afraid to be an adult.
Dave Mothersill says opening Furna is the biggest and best thing he’s done. The rest of his resume is not flimsy, either. He worked as head chef at The Gingerman Group and ran food at Black Rock restaurants, The Salt Room and the London branch of the Coal Shed. But Furna is his show, and his vision, matured. Dave isn’t a showy guy but he’s rightly proud of what he and his small team are accomplishing here.
A Trio of “Snacks”
The tasting menu is the heart of things. From our vantage point at the bar overlooking the kitchen, my wife and I can see each meticulous dish being crafted. We check the menu to see what we’ve got coming, but it gives little away. The first item is called just ‘Snacks’. This being Furna (and a restaurant for grown-ups) we know the snacks on offer are not likely to be a bowl of cheesy wotsits. And we’re not wrong. Three little dishes are set in front of us.
The first is a little vessel of soup and a wooden spoon. It’s a broth made from dashi with fresh peas, a Japanese custard, and what Dave tells us is last year’s pickled magnolia.
The deeply savoury liquid, pillow-soft custard curds, and just-cooked peas perfectly encapsulate what makes Furna’s cooking so satisfying: balance.
Perfect Balance
Over the evening, each dish we eat has been pared back to the fewest elements to achieve the desired experience. It’s a culinary expression of Occam’s Razor. But those elements all work in harmony. Something giving offsetting something with bite. A citrus zing to counterbalance richness, etc.
Our next snack is a poached oyster that’s been breadcrumbed and fried, with little pearls of finger lime and a spicy sauce glistening on the surface. And then a beautiful slice of raw trout with grapefruit, bergamot, and tarragon playing intriguing top notes.
What the menu says is bread and butter is a Japanese milk bread crossed with a French brioche. The butter is made from cultured cream in a 2-3 day in-house process. The whey leftover is used in other dishes – another example of the careful thought that Furna puts into everything.With the bread and butter come peppery in-season radishes and a creamy but feather-light smoked cod’s roe dip.
By now my wife and I have got the tasting menu rhythm. We’re focused on what Dave’s small team are carefully making for us next. A potato raviolo from Jersey Royals sitting on a bed of little cubes of smoked eel and apple, with a sauce made from the smoked eel stock and crème fraîche. It’s pale and pretty to look at, but on the tongue its earthiness makes me think of reeds and muddy toes.
A Taste Of The Wild
The seabass bouillabaisse is made from wild fish, in season. It’s served with tomatoes and samphire for acidity and salt-marsh crunch. Nuggets of sweet fennel bring the depth.
Spring lamb comes two ways. A piece of saddle has been grilled over the barbecue. Some fillet accompanies it. They’re side by side with a courgette and basil puree and another made from homemade fresh cheese. The sauce reduction comes from the lamb’s smoked bone marrow. And for bitter sharpness, wild garlic capers that I’ve watched in fascination being scorched and smoked on a hot plate deep in the kitchen.
It’s been a meal to cherish. But it’s about to go out with my favourite dish of the evening. I’m not usually a pudding person, but there’s a convert waiting in every sceptic. An Earl Grey and bergamot tart. Adorning it are several delicate pieces of fruit – cumquats, blood orange, cerrado – that weave a citrus dance together. It’s fresh, it’s tropical, it’s floral, there are burnt flavours, and all are soothed by a gorgeously rich bed of custard and crumbly pastry.
On Care and Attention
One last point on Dave. He’s one of the most attentive hosts I’ve seen in a restaurant, particularly for a head chef. He’s constantly busying back and forth between the kitchen and the tables. He explains each dish to us – and does the same for everyone else dining.
There are times in life when being a grown-up, with all its tax returns, clean socks, and responsibilities, can be somewhat less than exhilarating. But eating at Furna makes it all worth it.
