Baltic

Every time I go to Baltic the bartender is wearing the same shirt as me. And I don’t mean a similar shirt; it’s exactly the same shirt. Granted, he has good taste in clothes, but there’s simply no need for us to be matching. This is not something that I expect from a restaurant or bar (Baltic is both). It means that I cannot order a drink as everyone who hasn’t already noticed the embarrassing matching-shirts phenomenon, surely will then. It makes me look as if I work there and that our shirts are some sort of pinstriped uniform. And before you ask, yes I do own more than one shirt, so the chances of us matching must surely be slim. Thankfully, the waiting staff in the bar area bring drinks and nibbles to the table without forcing you to move your lower extremities in the direction of the bar, saving me from potential fisticuffs with my doppelgänger.

On my last visit, while sipping on a rather over-spiced Bloody Mary (in fairness I did ask for it to be spicy, but I didn’t realise that would mean the inclusion of an entire bottle of Tabasco), I caught my copycat evil twin eyeing me suspiciously. It was a sort of why-are-you-stalking-me? look. I figured that’s why he over-spiced my drink; he’s trying to kill me. Death by chilli pepper, perhaps. This bar ain’t big enough for the both of us.

Alas, I was saved by the arrival of our guests and we moved into the restaurant area, an airy atrium’d chic and modern space with a heated rubber floor. I only know that it’s heated because Mrs Jonesy placed her handbag on the floor during the meal and then later exclaimed with glee, “Oooh, my bag’s hot!” That made up for not having her very own ‘handbag stool’, something she has been expecting (and not getting) from every restaurant we’ve visited since our elegant meal at Le Bristol in Paris two years ago.

But you don’t want to know about my evil twin behind the bar or the heated floor or posh little stools for handbags in Parisian restaurants. What you really want to know about is the food at Baltic. Is it any good? Well, yes. Do you think I would put up with a shirt-stalking bartender if the food was utter twaddle?

I usually start with the Siberian pelmeni; a generous plate of bite-sized veal and pork dumplings which are meaty and glistening with butter, conjuring the image of a peasant farmer in the old Soviet Bloc, feasting on hearty high-calorie food in a wooden day-shack, with his crumpled weather-beaten face and his munificent smile.

On my last visit I made the mistake of ordering the crayfish and crab salad as a main course, in an attempt to try something different from the menu. It was listed under ‘Seafood’ so I presumed it was a main course, but what came was rather insignificant and left me feeling a bit cheated. I wished the waitress had warned me beforehand of the tiny portion size, but unfortunately the service in the restaurant area – although very friendly – is somewhat ineffectual.

Nevertheless, I enjoy going to Baltic. I have been many times and I would go again at the drop of an ushanka (a Russian furry hat if you don’t know and can’t be bothered to Google it). It’s the perfect venue for a reasonably priced midweek bite, and their mixed platter from the bar menu is quite scrumptious too if you can’t stomach a full restaurant meal.

Next time I’ll be ordering something from the ‘Main Courses’ section on the menu though – most of these are hearty dishes, cooked without fuss or complaint, the Golonka roast pork shank being one example. Prices are very reasonable and if you haven’t already guessed from the name, Baltic serves Eastern European cuisine with the light treatment of modern cooking (I should have mentioned that at the start, I suppose, but we like to do things differently at The Arbuturian). A set lunch and pre-theatre menu is also available. Say hello to my evil twin next time you’re there. But don’t ask him for a Bloody Mary.

Baltic, 74 Blackfriars Road, London SE1 8HA. Tel: 020 7928 1111. Website: www.balticrestaurant.co.uk