THOROUGHLY MODERN MAN: HKK, Moorgate

The area north of Liverpool Street Station is very, very quiet on a Saturday lunchtime – this tranquility suited an extensive and rather meditative lunch at HKK, a restaurant in the Hakkasan Group led by Michelin-starred head chef Tong Chee Hwee. The prospect of a twelve course tasting menu should be a little worrying but, with each dish being tiny, fresh and delicious, it is a gentle and relaxing experience. There is however a danger, with each course being paired by a fine wine, of falling off one’s chair halfway through the meal.

The charming and attentive waiter settled us in the pale elegant dining room and brought us bottled water and warm hand towels to emphasise the ritual nature of the proceedings. After a tiny amuse-bouche, we were brought a diminutive steak sandwich: Wagyu beef and black truffle in a mantou or steamed bun. Succulent and flavoursome, this was an excellent start, accompanied by a glass of chilled Heavenly Brew, a potent Sake that we sipped at gingerly. Next a seafood soup, its richness set against the sharp goji berries that one dropped in.

The oh-so-pretty trilogy of dim sum in their traditional basket were accompanied by a lively orange cocktail, Bitter Fortune, whose colour and array of flavours paralleled the steamed dumplings of sea bass, crab and lobster. The modest theatricality of the meal continued with a whole Peking duck, a splendid polished mahogany coloured bird, being expertly carved at the table and served with customary pancake and a little heap of sugar in which to dip the squares of sublime crispy skin. A most unusual German Pinot Noir, Stepp, was a robust partner to the intense gamey meat.

Little fish courses followed: coils of Dover sole and then delicious scallops in a sesame sauce; again our delightful Spanish sommelier had a surprising wine accompaniment, a Northern Italian rosé. Next came flaming eggs, the size of Easter eggs, made of salt sitting in thyme branch bird-nests! Broken open, these contained super-moist pieces of Bresse chicken suffused with mushroomy juices. A glass of citrusy white Burgundy added to the enjoyment. Our palates were refreshed with delicate Peony tea and we were served sticky, salty Abalone in its shell.

The final savoury course was a rectangle of melting pork belly complemented by the crisp sharpness of edible lily bulb and tiny pickled vegetables. The richness of the meat was matched with a distinctive, spicy South Australian red made entirely with the Mourvedre grape.

The puddings were not the disappointment one sometimes finds at the end of a Chinese meal – I could have eaten much more of the delicate coconut tapioca with mango granita and the Red berry parfait wrapped in a sesame tuile was equally delicious. The delicately fizzy and subtly sweet Moscato d’Asti completed the heavenly finale (not forgetting the tiny petits fours and coffee).

If you want a very special meal then HKK will not disappoint – this is the finest Chinese food I have ever eaten.

More information on HKK and make a booking here.

Written by a Thoroughly Modern Man, Chris Kenny.

THOROUGHLY MODERN MAN: Soundscapes, National Gallery

soundscapes-whatson-banner

It does no harm to look at familiar things in unfamiliar contexts; in fact, it can be enlightening, stimulating even. In ‘Soundscapes’ at the National Gallery, six much revered pictures are displayed alone in darkened rooms with aural accompaniment – musical, descriptive or atmospheric – created by invited composer/sound artists.

One cannot help but reconsider the works whether one approves of the sounds or not. In some cases the accompaniment is impressive on its own, sometimes it takes a supporting role…

Gabriel Yared’s Satie-esque response to Cezanne’s Bathers is exquisite, seeming to conjure up voluptuous fin-de-siecle France while also hinting at a darkness, echoing the way Cezanne introduces a psychological chiaroscuro into a sensual Impressionist subject.

Nico Muhly’s Long Phrases for Viola da gamba encourages one to contemplate the Wilton Diptych more closely and more profoundly, and for a longer time. The otherworldly cry of the viol enhances the heavenly aura of this strange, diminutive altarpiece.

Chris Watson’s soundtrack to a Finnish Symbolist landscape by Gallen-Kallela initially naturalises the mystical scene with birdsong but then with the eerie chant of a shaman reinforces the mythic atmosphere.

Jamie xx’s electronic installation,Ultramarine, highlights the alarming modernity of van Rysselberghe’s pointillist technique. Even 120 years after its creation, the atomist deconstruction of this coastal view appears new – digital, pixellated.

The most minimal aural intervention comes from Susan Philipsz who focuses on a broken lute string in Holbein’s Ambassadors emphasising this omen of discord with three extended notes from an anxious violin.

Canadian sound artists, Cardiff and Miller, respond to Antonello’s Saint Jerome in his Study more substantially with a large wooden reconstruction of the complex architectural space of the picture. This is impressive and amusing but less affecting than the ambient soundtrack of horses coming and going, crickets chirping and the gorgeous singing of a medieval chanson by Dufay.

It is brave of the National Gallery to risk the scorn of conservatives who wish the collection to be frozen in reverential aspic. It is not only instructive but also essential to occasionally reassess its masterpieces. Furthermore, despite the nervousness engendered in some people, no works were harmed in the making of this exhibition.

Exhibition continues until 6 September 2015, more information and book tickets here.

Written by a Thoroughly Modern Man, Chris Kenny.

THOROUGHLY MODERN MAN: Richard Diebenkorn, Royal Academy of Arts

Cityscape #1, 1963

Richard Clifford Diebenkorn Jr. is an unprepossessing name for an artist whose paintings exude Californian cool. The Royal Academy’s Sackler Wing is not sunny and is best suited to displaying prints and drawings – it provides a rather gloomy environment for Diebenkorn’s clear, bright landscapes and lyrical abstracts.

The first of three rooms contains his little known Abstract Expressionist works from the 50s – exciting dynamic paintings that show the obvious influence of De Kooning. Diebenkorn’s pictures are rarely completely resolved but appear to have just stopped at an interesting point; he replaces the violence of De Kooning with floppy rhythms and wonky patches of subtle colour.

His figurative works like Girl on a Terrace from 1956 involve distracted silhouetted bystanders with the components of Edward Hopper’s ‘portraits’ but with less psychological tension. Diebenkorn’s signature Ocean Park series is heralded memorably by 1963’s masterpiece, Cityscape #1 with its satisfying balance of surface and depth, painterliness and description, energy and composure. The 1970s works in the series are airier and less argumentative, moving further from the motif and towards an easier geometric language, swopping the intense pentimenti of the earlier pictures for broad areas of confidently applied pastel colour.

Diebenkorn’s paintings take elements of Matisse and Bonnard and expand them into broad American vistas. He is a painter’s painter and the gallery was full of earnest enthusiasts leaning in to examine the surfaces from two inches away.

Diebenkorn’s euphoric art is rarely seen in this country and, while being very welcome, would benefit from a more expansive and celebratory exhibition.

Continues until 7 June 2015, more information and book here.

Written by a Thoroughly Modern Man, Chris Kenny.