Where Tomás Gormley’s first restaurant Heron was all whites and Scandi light woods, Cardinal is dark, moody and candlelit. It all feels quite grown up; a bit serious. But then - in amongst the shadows and the hushed voices - there’s the staff and the plates of food. The former buoyant with their excitement for what they’re presenting to you and the latter playful and nearly impossibly pretty. The two facts sit side by side, a neat reminder that sometimes you need the dark to make the light shine brighter.
This is Gormley’s first solo venture - Heron was a collaboration - and his efforts to carve out his own signature imprint are apparent. Once your eyes adjust to the dark, everything has a palpable joyfulness. How many other tasting menus start with perfect cocktails and go on to offer up doughnuts, waffles with fried chicken, and jammy dodgers?
However lighthearted the dishes, they’re built on strong foundations of exacting technique and presentation. The menu trickles out course-by-course, presented by a mix of chefs and front of house, and starts with snacks in all their best forms - lace thin, crisp tarts filled with soft duck liver parfait, rhubarb and chilli; frilled cases piled high with sweet white crab meat and pops of finger lime; and an oyster leaf vegetarian substitute for crustaceans which was so rich with salinity you’d be forgiven for thinking there’d been a mix up.
The larger dishes were just a couple of precise mouthfuls each, the ideal tasting menu amount, and weren’t about to miss out on the fun. Take, for example, the beef dish where a tallow candle is melted and mixed into a jus for a rich mouth feel and grounding earthiness.
To explain everything in detail sort of misses the point when Cardinal is a few hours of pure delight waiting to be uncovered in a reams of delightfully surprising courses. Go, be surprised, enjoy the ride.