Baltic spin on blinis and wodka

This review was published in July 2001

I like getting into restaurants as soon as possible after they open, but I think I surpassed myself this time.

When I arrived at Baltic, just south of Blackfriars Bridge, the restaurant was still being built. And even though it was the middle of summer, it was a little chilly as there was no front door, just a gaping hole onto the street. However, I am sure that by the time you read this, these minor deficiencies will have been sorted out.

Baltic is the creation of John Woroniecki. He is also the proprietor of W?dka on St Alban's Grove in Kensington - a former dairy that he turned into a vodka, excuse me, wodka bar and Polish restaurant. W?dka has been chugging along very successfully in its own splendid culinary cul de sac for longer than most of its customers can remember - especially after a carafe or two of its many exotic vodkas. And for almost as long, the dashing Polish proprietor has been talking about opening a sibling branch.

The name and location - a sort of inner-city barn behind a handsome early-19th-century house - of Baltic were sorted out three or four years ago. I remember once confidently predicting that it would be open by spring 1999. What delayed the opening for so long were various planning niggles and the fact that Woroniecki is that increasingly rare thing in London, an independent operator.

Woroniecki should be secretly thanking the planners for having delayed his opening, as this part of South London has smartened up considerably over the past couple of years.

OK, so the Costcutter mart round the corner and the two young, shaven-headed people settling their differences with a robust physicality, militate against billing SE1 as a replacement for Belgravia but, like most parts of London, the area has its million-pound houses.

The restaurant has been worth the wait. Fans of Woroniecki's Kensington operation will not be disappointed and the residents of this up-and-coming quartier have acquired an unpretentious and rather good restaurant.

Baltic explores a culinary lexicon still underexploited by London restaurateurs, namely that of Eastern Europe and the Baltic seaboard. I'm no authority on Polish food but I would be hard-pressed to describe it as the world's lightest style of cooking. Even the language sounds lumpen. Golonka is the word that apparently describes a dish of roasted pork shank with smoked sausage and bean salad, while schabowy describes a dish of pork escallops [sic] in breadcrumbs with Portobello mushrooms.

Meanwhile, regulars at W?dka will be pleased to see such favourites on the menu as pierogi, which translates as dumplings filled with potato and cheese then drenched in sour cream, and starters such as kaszanka - Polish black pudding with pear pur?e and red cabbage.

However, it's the fish and the pickles that win me over. While one waits for the Polish waitresses to bring your drinks, a basket of black (dark brown, to be precise) bread is proffered. Have this with the pickled red cabbage, the pickled peppers and pickled cucumbers that are on the table. Then there are the herring.

I find it difficult to fault a restaurant that offers marinated herring twice in the list of starters, once with blinis and once with dill cucumber and potato salad. It is the latter that I devoured. I then opted for more pickles with my main course, caramelised salmon with sweet pickled-pepper-and-cabbage salad. For good measure I ordered mizeria (finely sliced cucumber with sour cream and mint) as a side dish.