Ad Hog
March 2011
I’ve always been a sucker for a clever name. A porcine eatery that serves whatever the proprietor feels like cooking on the day called Ad Hog? I was sold straight away. Never mind that I got hopelessly lost (again) trying to find this…
Full Description
March 2011
I’ve always been a sucker for a clever name. A porcine eatery that serves whatever the proprietor feels like cooking on the day called Ad Hog? I was sold straight away. Never mind that I got hopelessly lost (again) trying to find this eatery. Where normally I would have blown a gasket, this time I was all the more determined to seek out this restaurant and meet the clever people behind the clever name. Imagine my relief then to discover that not only is owner Sam adept with English, he just also happens to be a dab hand in the kitchen.
Firstly let’s get this straight: there’s nothing ‘normal’ about Ad Hog. It’s secreted in what seems to be an uninhabited industrial area, the only lonely enterprise in the area without even a sign to indicate its presence (Sam: ‘It’s because we don’t want people to find us’). Inside, the décor is sparse, but there is an enchanting sense of intimacy to the mismatched chairs and dimly lit dining room. It’s almost as if you’ve been invited to dine at a talented but slightly eccentric relative’s home. And even though strangers are seated at the few tables around you, there is a distinct sensation of familiarity that is almost reassuring. That’s largely because Sam and his equally refreshing, equally loquacious partner Cayenne run the place with a good measure of humour. And lest I forget, the food is by and large delicious. The seafood gumbo was larger than life, in equal parts nourishing, full-bodied, feisty and flavoursome. The belly on ribs with a sweet piquant sauce was perfectly marbled and perfectly cooked, so that the fat accentuated the meat just so and didn’t threaten to ruin the party with its unctuous excess.
A competent but unremarkable spaghetti bolognaise passed quietly under the radar, not least because the parmesan came from a bottle. But with a triumphant Houdini-esque flourish (whilst simultaneously proving he isn’t just a one-trick piggy), Sam produced the night’s tastiest dish: prawns baked
in tomato, parsley sauce and cheese. The prawns were eloquently heightened by the subtle spice of the sauce while the cheese added a textural sensation that was reminiscent of fondue on bread. I only have this to say: get thee a GPS and get thee there, pronto. Fay Khoo