Sometimes, after a long day spent indulging in the MasterChef studio, the last thing one craves is more food. Yet duty beckoned, leading us to Trillium, situated right in Birmingham's city centre. The restaurant gleams with expansive picture windows, baroque chandeliers, and lush tropical foliage, glowing like gold bullion as the lively chatter spills out from beneath the door.
A Surprise Encounter
Upon entering, the first person spotted was the hirsute Brummie hero Glynn Purnell, seated at a table in the middle of the room. It is always a joy to see this master chef, and initially it was assumed he was there to critique the competition. Having arrived at Trillium without even glancing at the website, it was only upon greeting him that the realisation dawned: this is his new restaurant. So much for meticulous research. Yet this revelation proved to be excellent news. From the very start—a vast 'XXL' gougère the size of a fist, with crisply delicate choux pastry stuffed with Montgomery cheddar cream and topped with an excess of grated Gruyère—it was clear that a delightful experience was in store.
Playful and Satisfying Starters
A waffle, crisp and light, was piped with an old-school punchy chicken liver parfait and blobs of Sauternes gel, sweetly sharp. Then came a potato 'scallop', based on the chip-shop classic: crisp, battered potato slices drenched in a mass of chive-flecked sour cream, reminiscent of a Pringle with a PhD. This is fun food, managing to be at once cheffy and deeply satisfying. Monkfish cheeks, coated in the most burnished and brittle of tempura batters, arrived sitting on a splodge of ragù bolognese. More gel blobs, this time citrus, cut a dashing swathe through all that surf and turf.
Exceptional Mains and Vegetables
An exceptional Tamworth pork chop was covered in what initially seemed like a mess of orange and white sputum. However, with smoked almonds and charred red peppers, it proved a clever take on romesco sauce, with added bacon for yet more piggy depth. It looked a mess but tasted divine. Vegetable dishes were equally inspired. Leeks, smothered in microherbs and toasted hazelnuts, appeared as a haphazard tangle, but there was nothing disorganised about the balance of acidity and texture. Charred hispi cabbage came slathered in creamy ranch dressing, with added sourdough crumb crunch.
A Few Misses, But a Triumphant Finish
Not every dish shone. The cured trout was a little too soft and subdued, lacking bite. Not bad, just comparatively dull. However, the meal finished with a rhubarb trifle that could make even the most pudding-averse person let slip an involuntary gasp. Jelly, sponge, custard, meringue—because Trillium is Purnell at his playful best, in a room seemingly macerated in delight. This is exalted, thoroughly modern cooking, with a great dollop of old-fashioned fun.
About £40 per person. Trillium, 1 Snow Hill Queensway, Birmingham B4; trilliumrestaurant.co.uk
