‘A real treat’: Voyagers, Parr Street, reviewed

“Would you like to continue tinkering with this?” asked Ella, my servant, her eyebrows slightly arched, a six-foot grin and no sign of a 1,000-yard stare.

It was mid-dinner at the newly opened Voyagers restaurant on Parr Street in Liverpool city centre. I burst out laughing, which was understandable from an old guy who brought up Talbot Rothwell’s genius writing for The Carry On movies in the 1960s and 70s, and puns from girls at the top of their game, Barbara Windsor, Joan. Sims and Liz Fraser.

The drinks list is very pan-European, you can drink from St. Petersburg in Turkey or Saint Tropez in Gucci silk. Choose. James Bond would be at home.

If I can give you an idea of ​​the overall feel of this brand new addition to Liverpool’s restaurant scene, it’s best described by Ella and the rest of the front of house team.

Welcoming, knowledgeable, well-dressed, comfortable, colorful, leggy and funny.

“Ooh, that’s my favorite!”

And guess what, I believed him.

There’s pedigree in the kitchen, led by Jake Parry, former head chef of the pretty good Wreck or Wreckfish, one of Gary Usher’s stables. Whatever you think of Usher, he’s a bit of a marmite, but a good cook and a very good trainer of people.

When you watch Jake examine the plates coming in from his open kitchen, you can detect the signals of Usher’s training. With an eye for detail, nothing gets off the ground without his approval.

The furniture is Scandinavian, but with color and very comfortable cushions. The lighting is dim but readable, while during the day floor-to-ceiling windows let in light. I don’t know who designed the interior, but they have the magic of making a new building cozy and warm.

Voyagers shares a very stylish bar with its big brother hotel, the remarkable Halyard, so you can enjoy a cocktail or two before getting down to the serious business of nose bags.

Moroccan Mint Tea (£4). I was driving. But I really enjoyed it. Service is 12.5%. I could detach, but I would forgive Ella for everything. It’s a small plate strategy, so it’s all about sharing. I have a feeling that small plates will start to fall out of fashion in the boom over the next couple of years, but for now let’s make the most of them.

Take my order instructions into account, choose in batches of three, each order when the previous one has arrived. They’re not kidding when they say your picks will arrive as they become available on different stations. In real politics, it usually means everything at once. Hence the subscription strategy

No problems for me then, my original trio of crab cake (£8), prawns (£12 and change of clothes included) and Gordal olives (£5) arrived in good condition.

Gordal olives are always my favorite, they are loved, but Jake offers them warm, a first for me. It turns out to be a smart move, it takes something great to really big. Loved them. I was working on crab cakes at the same time. They came with a pot of cilantro, lime and chili jam, and a quarter of a slice of lime. I tried the cake, it felt like something was missing.

I’m not usually into Asian spices. Bottled in liter plastic bottles, they are too sweet, industrial and generally radioactive. The main guy passed my table. “I’ll make sure you take a splash of that sauce, sir. Then an extra squeeze of lime.”

Suddenly it blossomed. The sauce wasn’t sickly sweet or sticky; it was nicely balanced, the coriander, lime and chilli got their little moments but boosted the fish cake, which was nothing like the old shoestrings in less interesting Thai restaurants. That lime wedge was warm again. It was loaded. Dear God, it all woke up and turned the average 6.5/10 into a 9.25/10

It was a one word note on my board.

‘Dynamite.’ On a point.

Prawns. Well, let’s not beat around the bush. Grilled Black Tiger Prawns (£12). Char grilled and dressed in confit garlic, lemon and chili pepper butter. In the skin, but carefully cut to help remove the black vein, soak up the sauce and use big fat fingers and thumbs to pull out a little finger-sized piece of tail meat that had taken just the right amount of tingly butter. . Don’t think of this as a first date.

The next three ordered started with Honey & Soy Pork Belly (€8.50) Slow cooked, pressed and glazed with pak choi. I loved the expert use of lime, chili and garlic both as a spice and as a volume adjuster in the dishes that fit it.

However, this dish required more work. The skin remained unused, and the greasiness did not decrease sufficiently without crunch.

It looked great though. But so did Barbie, and as we boys discovered, there was no substance down there either.

Meanwhile, the ‘fried chicken’ dish, AKA Crispy Fried Chicken (£8.50) with salt and pepper chicken thighs, chilli pickled watermelon and house sriracha blew me away. Chicken thighs are treated in an early brine bath, towel off, treated with another buttermilk bath, then breadcrumbed and fried. Cover with a fat dessert spoon of what I call ratatouille “Asian style” and small, hot pineapple cubes soaked in another bath of spices and chilies. They explode on impact, giving the vessel a final flourish. This was an absolute dream.

Broccoli was ordered and did its job. Well, what else can you say? Pangrattato (the proofreader kept trying to replace this with “pancreatitis”, I would say appropriately) was a necessary addition and helped me a lot.

And finally the Liverpool Tart (£9).

He’s a fine old tart, that’s for sure. Great dough, the filling is similar to a syrup tart, but more like a lemon tart. A delightful play with texture and taste, and a big muscovado cream on top. I have it again.

The drinks list is very pan-European, you can drink from St. Petersburg in Turkey or Saint Tropez in Gucci silk. Choose. James Bond would be at home.

The wine list is well thought out. Reasonable increases with a good portion next to the glass and bottle. Bottles start in the mid-20s, with Louis Jadot’s Premier Cru Fourchaume Chablis; a bit naughty not to list the year remember. But could be good value at £80 a bottle.

Voyagers is a real treat; there is something for everyone here. The table next to me was eighty-six. One of them, Andrew, was severely disabled in a rather clever motorized wheelchair. The staff handled him with little fuss and very skillfully.

Andrew could not speak, but could he eat and drink cabernet. Replacing (is that a term these days?) I found out that this rummy team has been together since elementary school. Andrew has been in a chair and mute for a few years due to a stroke. When Edith asked what he thought of the Liverpool tart, he took out his notebook and Edith read the answer to everyone. “As sweet as Mary’s lips.”

I think Mary was the woman who was as pink as Barbie’s A-line skirt. And well done to the boy on his first date. He got a kiss on the way out.

Travelers, 38 Parr St, L1 4JN