SA Weekend restaurant review: Alchemist’s Kitchen, Brighton

The Alchemist’s Kitchen at Brighton has many of the elements that make for a great dining experience – but all that glitters is not gold, writes Simon Wilkinson.

Dining room at The Alchemists' Kitchen, Brighton.

The alchemists of the Middle Ages believed they could turn lead into gold, if only they could identify an elusive element.

Their modern counterpart, a wood-fired restaurant in Jetty Rd, Brighton, seems to have a similar dilemma.

The food at The Alchemists’ Kitchen, particularly the pizzas and other things roasted in the oven, is really quite good, the drinks list a step up from any of its neighbours.

Considerable money has clearly been splashed on the new fit-out.

And yet, on a perfect balmy evening, when the seaside strip is buzzing with potential customers, more than half the seats are empty.

So, what’s missing? Mmmm. Based on our experience, it would be that most intangible of ingredients: personality. Warmth … hospitality … colour … call it what you will. Oh, and a phone number with a human voice at the end would be nice, as well.

Owners Deeb Milky and Andrea Aranibar also run Alimentary Eatery, an eye-catching daytime cafe they opened four years ago further up the same road.

Slow cooked lamb shoulder with eggplant and mixed greens.

Their latest venture looks a bit like a nightclub, with a monochrome colour scheme, curved booths and upholstered chairs that have a strange ring hanging at the back.

The wood oven, covered in golden tiles, looks like it has come from Aladdin’s Cave, and its smoke and charring have a welcome impact on the cooking.

However, to claim this “is the only restaurant that embraces the limitless opportunity and alchemy of the wood oven” seems a stretch, particularly when the menu offers only three mains beyond pizza.

From the starters, crunchy fried arancini are cracked open to release a tasty moosh of disintegrating rice, cheese and plenty of porcini.

“Ta’ameya” are Egypt’s take on falafel, made with fava beans rather than chickpeas, creating a stiff green mixture that is shaped into cigars before frying.

They are topped with salsa verde and laid on a bed of creamy hummus.

A Middle Eastern influence is also strong in the manoush, a Lebanese pizza sprinkled with za’atar, a spice mix containing sesame seeds and plenty of tangy sumac.

It is a good introduction to the Alchemist base, slow fermented over three days so that the dough puffs up like a proud school kid when it hits the oven and creates a bread disc that is tender, fragrant and dotted with black freckles.

Kingfish wings.

Spicy salami and mushroom pizza.

In pizza mode, topping choices stay true to Italian tradition (no pineapple or chicken), the most creative adding a smear of the soft Italian sausage, nduja, to the tomato base and scattering over piquillo pepper, onion, olives and oregano for a full flavour bomb.

A quartet of roasted kingfish wings take some patience to disassemble, pulling back the skin and separating bones to uncover the hidden troves of delicate white flesh.

Pearl couscous with plumped-up currants and plenty of chopped mint makes an effective accompaniment.

A spice-rubbed lump of lamb shoulder meat is so relaxed it must have spent countless hours chilling in the fading heat of the oven.

With a gentle prod, it collapses into a pool of baba ganoush that melds with a light reduction sauce.

Despite Alchemist being a long way from full, service seems stretched and has its priorities muddled.

Water isn’t replaced when finished. Shared main courses arrive in one hit when we ask for the delivery to be staggered.

And while we sit surrounded by dirty plates and empty glasses, hoping for an offer of dessert, neighbouring tables are spray-and-wiped and set for the next opening.

The only choice, we’re told eventually, is an over-the-top combination of intense, cocoa-rich chocolate ganache, a crumble of what seems to be pulverised Ferrero Rocher, caramel ice-cream and four fresh raspberry halves. Not worth the wait, really.