Review: Stark, East Mersea

One of the UK's most exciting young chefs has moved his Michelin-starred restaurant to Essex. Charlotte Smith-Jarvis discovers more...

There’s a magical, mystical quality to tidal islands. The frisson of a thrill that their inhabitants and guests will, for some part of the day, be cut off from the rest of the world momentarily as sea water almost insidiously creeps across the only point of exit or entry. 

One of the most famous such places is Osea, whose famous raggedy causeway, swallowed daily by the river Blackwater, is immortalised by Susan Hill in The Woman in Black. 

A nearby, and lesser known, neighbour of Osea, further up the Essex coastline, is Mersea. This is an island of staunch tradition. Of sticky mudflats, oyster beds, seafaring, pebble-strewn beaches, and big open skies. 

No wonder Sophie Crittenden wanted to return here, to the place of her childhood. She and husband, chef Ben, had been running their Michelin-starred restaurant Stark very successfully in Kent for many years, but craved more time with family. And so, armed with that star, a bunch of accolades and positive reviews, and with their three children in tow, the couple made the move to Mersea earlier this year. 

Stark 2.0 is in a ‘blink and you’ll miss it’ location, along a gently meandering B road in what was most recently a tiny, informal seafood restaurant. Under the cloak of night the building is easy to miss, its black wooden cladding echoing the island’s historic oyster shacks and fishing huts. 

As we stepped out of the car we were immediately slapped by the smell of the sea...or something close to it. Ben is big into smoking food, and whiskers of salt, cure and wood fire linger, forming almost tangible tendrils that draw you in. 

This place is Stark not just by name, but also by nature. There’s nothing showy or Michelin-slick about the restaurant, where markings on the glossy floor appear like frenzied gull prints, tangles of rope form light fixtures, and industrial-sized sieves serve as porthole mirrors on the ceiling. 

There’s nothing intimidating about the intimate dining room and its gentlemen’s club-style lounge. Case in point is the artwork, which gives a window into Sophie and Ben’s personalities. Mona Lisa as the Joker. Deadpool. They’re either hardcore DC and Marvel fans, or have been strongly armed by their eldest child. 

Eating and drinking at Stark 

A single, no-options and no substitutes menu is operated here to allow for a steady, consistent flow of dishes from the one-manned kitchen. It’s £90 per person for six courses. Tasting menus of this ilk aren’t, granted, for everyone, but they do offer those with adventurous, unfussy palates the opportunity to really get inside the mind of the person at the stoves. To, in one sitting, understand the way that chef thinks about ingredients and cooking. It is their mission statement, spelled out in food. 

Neither of us felt like a big boozy session, instead choosing a glass of Davenport Vineyard’s Pinot Noir. Sublime. English reds are gaining a lot of traction right now, with some exceptional drops coming to market, including this Sussex-made bottle – all leathery and cherry-ripe on the nose, with many of the characteristics you’d expect of an Old World Pinot. Bakewell tart in a glass. 

Now, we’re always hopeful for a bread course, even if it means we might struggle with pud later, but Ben takes the opener to the next level. With sensationally good, bouncy, high hydration sourdough – more milky and lactic than sour and sharp. There is, though, no butter to be found. Unless you count the likely copious amounts whipped into his accompanying signature duck parfait, as luscious as fresh clotted cream. With nibs of toasted hazelnut, smoked apple, and a layer of herbal confit duck, this is probably one of the most luxurious starts to a meal we’ve ever experienced. Period. 

Smoke threads through much of the menu at Stark. From the neatly carved pearls of apple tucked under the parfait above, to a breath of smoke in the flaky piece of cod which arrived in a shimmering rock pool of cucumber dashi broth with fairy-sized mushrooms, pickled fennel, and an airy seaweed cracker. 

To follow, an outstanding plate showing off rare breed lamb to perfection, reducing the shoulder to collapse, brining it, and bringing it back together, crisping the outer edges. Such a delicious way to treat this overlooked cut, ushering out its lambiness, while yielding a beautifully soft texture. Chickpea puree brought souk-like flavours to the party, bolstered by a sheen of jus, toasted pine nuts and peppers preserved into a spicy, sticky jam. A dish that was all at once bold and robust, while demonstrating restraint and finesse.  

That restraint continued into a plate of blush pink venison with charred Grelot onions, green peppercorns, pickled blackberries and earthy beets, giving a Chinese-style sweet and sour twist. 

And in a pre-dessert of smoked mascarpone sorbet with blackcurrants and sweet macadamia cake. 

Dinner was book ended as it began. With utter decadence. Peanut parfait and chocolate sorbet cloaked in dulce de leche foam, and finished with toasted rice, peanuts and frozen pops of raspberry. 

Stark may be petite, but what it lacks in size, it more than makes up for in heart and cooking might. Ben’s menu is subtle put punchy. Paired back but expressive. He and Sophie sweat the small stuff, from ensuring each of the curvaceous, almost primal earthenware dishes (which look as though they’ve been carved from rocks on the beach) is hot, to staggering each booking properly so every table gets their full, undivided attention. 

This is a thrilling addition to the Essex dining scene. 

Find out more here.