670 Grams, Birmingham

I love restaurants of all kinds. All budgets, all styles, all cuisines, whatever the location and whatever the level of ambition. I can be equally happy ordering a mixed grill at Tayyabs as being cossetted by the world class service at the Ledbury. There are many different ways to enjoy the talent in kitchens here and elsewhere in the world, and it seems silly to restrict yourself to any kind of comfort zone when there's such joy to be found in discovering something new, or going out of your way to gather new experiences.

All that said, I'm not too ashamed to say I'm a bit of a sucker for an ambitious fine-dining tasting menu. While I appreciate some people don't get on with them, I've always thought that if you like eating out at all, the modern British fine dining tasting menu can be the ultimate expression of everything the restaurant experience can be. It's become trendy to dismiss Michelin-level cooking as pretentious nonsense - and believe me, it certainly can be, but when it's done right it can be life-changing.

If you like fine dining then, you'll love 670 Grams every much as bit as I did, and I absolutely loved it. Despite being a whole hour delayed (thank you Avanti West Coast) the staff were completely unflappable and we began our late lunch with a very pleasant cocktail called Citrus Monster (which very much lived up to its name) in a very pretty (albeit not frozen) glass.

A few moments later, "snacks" arrived. I use the inverted commas deliberately as the sheer number and variety of perfect little bitesize morsels that landed on our table was gasp-inducing. There was a "Balti Pie", a nod to a local speciality, which was full of curry flavour and seasoned well....

...little curried trout tartlets which dissolved delightfully in the mouth and with which we had great fun popping the roe that came on top...

...an extremely clever melon and ham jelly thing which I've somehow lost the photo of but looked like a Haribo sweet and tasted powerfully of the main ingredients...

...a citrusy steak tartare studded with pickles and olives and topped with a lovely little coil of (I think) fried shallot for texture...

...a wonderful rich, dark, glossy Birmingham soup presented in a nicely rustic bit of handmade ceramic which I ended up leaving completely dry...

...slices of house cured duck with a perfect taste and texture which gleamed on the table like meaty jewels...

...and at least two or three other things which I'm afraid I could make notes on quickly enough (one of them I see from my menu is called 'Cheese & onion' and could be the thing above) and so are lost to the restaurant gods. But all you need to know is that they were all as pretty as they were fun to eat. Start me off on a menu with a dozen bitesize elements of loveliness and that's it, as a restaurant, you've won.

The bread course was notable not just for the quality of the sweet Japanese milk bread glossed with Digbeth (the area of town where the restaurant is set) honey but also a fantastic mushroom and truffle butter arranged like petals on a flower and almost too beautiful to eat (I said almost).

Course one (!) of the menu proper was a savoury miso custard that was so good I never wanted it to end. I could have probably eaten about ten of these and done myself a real damage but 670 Grams know me better than I know myself, and both the portion control and pacing of all the dishes was absolutely spot-on. Obviously a dollop of Exmouth caviar boosted the overall levels of luxury, but the real star here was the custard itself, a proper achievement.

A kind of potato-based velouté of smoked eel and wild sea bass had an insanely rich and powerful flavour, again exactly the kind of thing you go to places like this for. Yet more caviar obviously didn't do any harm but even without it this would still have been a world-class bit of cooking.

Perhaps the only one of the "starters" I didn't completely love was this curried scallop, but this could perhaps be due to the fact that I'm not the world's greatest fan of scallop anyway. It was still very enjoyable but I would have liked a bit more citrus (in the form of little bits of finger lime underneath) to contrast the sweetness of the seafood. But my friend loved this, so what do I know.

Next up, piri piri quail from the chef's dad's recipe (he's Portuguese) arriving as a cute little chargrilled leg and a stuffed ballotine. This was all fantastic, from the crunchy smoky leg to the soft and herby ballotine, but bringing it all together was a wonderful piri piri sauce that I'm not ashamed to say I mopped completely dry with my fingers.

Finally of the savoury courses, duck breast next to a little slab of foie gras on top of a kind of sausage made from the duck bits. This was one of those dishes that could have been made just for me, containing a number of my favourite things to eat in the entire world. The duck was perfectly pink, the foie gras melted in the mouth, and a dollop of preserved plum provided a gently fruity highlight to the wonderful Albufera sauce. Magical stuff.

The cheese course - a Baron Bigod - was presented at this stage to give us an idea of what was to come before being whisked away. First of the desserts (not pictured, sorry photo didn't turn out) then appeared, a sourdough ice cream in warm brown butter, served with a choice of jams. I chose gooseberry, my friend went for tomato. Both were fantastic, as was the smooth ice cream.

Another ice cream followed, this time fig leaf on a bed of marshmallows and damson puree. You'll notice how strictly seasonal things like gooseberries and damsons are woven into the menu without it turning into a gimmick or being distracting - first and foremost they're great ingredients used well.

Hiding under this Cadbury-purple (this is the city of Bourneville after all) sheet of tulakalum chocolate was a mixture of roasted almonds and prunes soaked in Pedro Ximenes sherry. So, a posh Cadbury's Fruit and Nut then - the dish was called 1926 after the year the bar was introduced.

The Baron Bigod reappeared next, grilled and gooey under a healthy layer of shaved black truffle...

...and then finally, yet more Portuguese influence in the form of this utterly amazing pastel de nata made with cascara, a byproduct of coffee making.

I should probably take a bit of a break from tradition and mention the wines which included a very nice Polish rose, an orange from Midlands Press Winery which is literally just up the road from the restaurant, and ending with a lovely 2022 late harvest Tokaji - so quite an eclectic list, but one that made perfect sense at the time. Oh and if you're wondering where the name 670 Grams came from, it was the birth weight of owners (and very accomplished front of house) Kray and Sacha Treadwell's daughter, who you'll pleased to learn is now a happy and healthy young girl.

So clearly, 670 Grams is a restaurant worth visiting, one that deserves a special journey (to borrow the expression from Michelin who should clearly be awarding stars at some point) no matter what part of the country you're from. But to West Midlands locals what is happening in this converted custard factory (Alfred Bird's lab was just over the road) should be a source of great pride. Taking all the best traditions of fine dining and applying it to hyper local produce is the best possible showcase of food from a city that already has a good, and growing reputation for food. We rolled back to London happy and inspired, swapping stories of our favourite dishes and wondering how soon we can plan a return.

10/10

I was invited to 670 Grams and didn't see a bill, but the menu says the signature tasting (which is what I assume we were given) is £135pp so expect to pay about £170pp with booze I reckon. They also do an a la carte for £45 and a shorter tasting menu for £90 so there's something for most price points.