Matou, Mersey Ferry Terminal, reviewed

What’s in dining next to a body of water?

One or two images come to mind: either an afternoon running battle with incoming winds and circling seagulls, or a retired couple in a winch grinning on the deck of a Cunard cruise ship.

Neither is necessarily my thing, but when it’s good, it’s good. So when a restaurant gets the right location and manages to set up camp next to the ever-changing tides, one can’t help but be curious to see if it stays the course.

Matou identifies itself as a “pan-Asian” restaurant, an all-too-familiar phrase that can be an opportunity to explore the lesser-known corners of vast, interconnected cuisines. Often, though, it pedals across the continent in a sort of supermarket sweep and returns with a few spring rolls.

But what’s in that name? Wait and see.

Matou’s surroundings are, in their own words, “a privileged location overlooking Liverpool’s vibrant harbor area.” Or to put it another way, restaurateurs would give the left Bev button; panoramic, charming and explosive. throngs of daily travelers.

From its appearance alone, it is an impressive restaurant. Floor-to-ceiling windows cover the entire space, which revolves around the bar and open kitchen. Few tables are without a perfect view of either the slow-moving, melancholic charm of the Mersey or the majesty of the Liver building. This is what you came to see.

The tables are spaced out, spacious and a well put together chopper, smartly dressed staff – my server, Maria, was a smile from the start. And when the sun sets through the gin and tonic prism, you can’t help but admire the view. Then the menu flips into view and blocks all sunlight.

Matou seems to have taken a similar approach to “pan-Asian” as Genghis Khan, carving through East and Southeast Asia, tying in chow mien here and satay there, and returning to the Pier Head with more food than can fit on twenty banquet tables. Although it’s not an opinion that Genghis would agree with, I’d say less is more.

I don’t know if it was the slippery water on the other side of the glass, but I was in the mood for the fishier end of things. Southeast Asian flavors do fantastic things for steak lovers alongside the more obvious virtues of chicken and pork, but dipping the fish in the various spice combinations that are the crowning glory of this type of cuisine can’t be beat. in my book.

I then started with Wonton Soup (£7.95) – prawn and mince dumplings in a clear broth with pak choi noodles and egg noodles. This was a solid broth, but little more than that, lacking even a lick of spice or that boney, umami note. I like simplicity, but this was too straightforward. The dumplings were more of a positive, but could have done with more seasoning, and there was no suggestion of much else besides shrimp and pork. I love Asian soup as a starter, it gets the blood pumping and gives a harsh introduction to the types of flavors on the way. This was a bit sad at the same time. Yeah yeah.

I don’t usually like fishcakes, too often a bit mushy and vague mass in some form, but when done well, Thai fishcakes can be a joy. The combination of finely chopped fish, roughly chopped spring onions and a happy dance of lime and fish sauce, all solidified by egg and hot oil and able to take a few servings in a sweet chili dip, is a killer appetizer from this side of the world.

While solid, these fishcakes were woefully undercooked (a recurring theme) and generally very uninspired. The peanut sprinkle didn’t really give the food the necessary variation in texture and taste. Too bad, for something that should really be a bit of an open goal.

Looking at the Mains side of things, I decided against the duck mandarin (tempting, £18) or the T-Bone Steak with chunky chops and creamy mushroom sauce (confusing, £28.50) and wanted to see what was spicy. The sea basil (£21.50) had a lot to offer.

The answer is, not really much. It tasted very little, from the sea bass seasoning and the batter spread on it to the sauce, stir fried vegetables and jasmine rice. I was hoping that the presence of the Holy Basil would have given the smooth sweet sauce a slightly clovey, slightly aniseed note, but it wasn’t much more than window dressing. Frustration.

I added a papaya salad (£13.50) to this, a litmus test for any SE Asian or Thai offering, a fresh and refreshing combination of lime, fish sauce and chilli that smuggles a lot of spice into something that initially looks bland. glance. Here Matou did not deliver. The fish sauce, if there was any, was so low in the mix as to be non-existent, the papaya and carrot had no flavor and the chillies looked like they were still on the cutting board. The only thing that made my eyes water about this salad was the price.

No one goes to a restaurant expecting to be disappointed—no, not even when it’s your job to check them out—and those who go looking for an evening of rattling misery over three courses are in the wrong profession.

I wanted to impress Matou. I wanted it to be a place that made great food but had to shout. For God’s sake, look at the place. What a gem of a setting. What a kitchen that chefs can sink their teeth into. What a wasted opportunity.

This is a place with titanic potential, all at sea.

We are2nd Floor Mersey Ferry Terminal, Pier Head, L3 1DP