The Walnut Tree - Abergavenny

So, I finally got to eat at The Walnut Tree last week, somewhere I’ve wanted to visit for bloody ages. Located just outside Abergavenny, (in Wales in case your geography is as shit as mine) it’s long been regarded as somewhere a bit special.

‘Special how?’ I imagine you spitting at your screen in an agitated manner.

Well, let me furnish you with some restaurant history that’ll explain what’s what.

It doesn’t really matter what happened at the place before 1963, when Ann and Franco Taruschio took over. For the next 37 years, under their care The Walnut Tree became one of the most highly regarded places to eat in Britain, a favourite of Elizabeth David no less. If you’d been lucky enough to eat a meal there, cooked by Franco, it would almost certainly be a highly prized memory.

Ann and Franco sold The Walnut Tree in 2001, and the restaurant had a couple of owners in the proceeding years but it wouldn’t be till 2007 for it’s legendary reputation and fortunes to be finally restored by Chef Shaun Hill, the current owner and something of a legend himself.

Having begun his career under Robert Carrier (how many legends are involved in this frigging thing?), he went on to get a Michelin star at Gidleigh Park. But where I first heard of him was when I first really started becoming interested in food. Then, the restaurant everyone seemed to be talking about was Shaun Hill’s, The Merchant House in Ludlow, which was once voted the 14th best restaurant in the world.

So, acclaimed restaurant meets acclaimed chef. Here ends the history bit.

Believe or not, Abergavenny is no more than an hour from Bristol. It’s incredibly easy to get to on the train and once there, The Walnut Tree is an £8 cab ride from the station. Being from Essex, I still can’t quite get my head round how close Wales is.

I had an early lunch booked and service hadn’t quite kicked off as I walked in. I spied Shaun Hill standing near the bar. Elly and I ordered G&T’s and the man himself complimented us on our choice of drink before heading into the kitchen. I am not worthy and all that.

As the weather is suitably scorchio right now, furnace Britain etc, we sat outside to finish our drinks. Amuse in the form of delicate little éclairs filled with salmon and cream cheese with pickled cucumber were brought out. Perfect for a hot day.

I’m going to get this out of the way. If you’re ordering a la carte, I reckon The Walnut Tree is pretty bloody expensive and I speak as someone who doesn’t mind throwing a bit of moolah at a meal. The average price of a starter is around the £12 mark and a main £23. Throw in £8 for a dessert, bit of wine and a tip and it soon adds up. But, happily there’s a really good value three course set lunch menu at £27.50 and you are having your food cooked by a culinary God, so I’ll pack it in with the complaining but consider yourself warned.

Now seated in the main dining room we picked at some rather superb bread, served with unsalted butter, which I just don’t get, I want salted, godammit. I still ate it though and it was lovely.

Elly’s starter of lobster with sweetcorn and chilli looked absolutely belting, no fiddling with claws and what not, this was just the good stuff, big chunks of meat. I tried a bit and it was lovely.

My quail, bacon grapes and verjuice (unripe grape juice) was phenomenal. The quail, normally pretty fiddly to eat, had been butterflied and de-boned. The whole thing was so beautifully balanced, the sweetness of the grapes, saltiness of the bacon, the sharp acidity of the verjuice sauce and the bitter accompanying chicory leaves. It was without a doubt one of the best things I’ve ever eaten. I even mopped up all the juices with some bread, the plate went back so clean they could have reused it straightaway.

Elly, having decided to slum it after her lobster starter, had ordered turbot with spiced cauliflower and chermoula. For her, this was the highlight of the meal, a real treat and beautifully cooked.

Meanwhile, I was eating rib-eye of beef with braised chicory and salsa verde (well someone has to). A massive plate of food, and I couldn’t have been happier. Beautiful meat, medium rare and a nice sharp salsa verde. Perfect.

Accompanying this were dauphine potatoes, which were pretty damn nice but being a greedy bastard, I’d also ordered jabron potatoes as an extra side dish (I'd seen them featured on Simon Hopkinson's latest TV program, last week) and I really only had eyes for these. Let me just tell you now, jabron potatoes are frigging epic. Cooked potato chunks, baked with cream, garlic and cheese. Definitely as beautiful as it sounds.

Finally, something so simple but so elegant and well made, both of us were gobsmacked. Accompanying Elly's turbot was a small plate of tomato and red onion salad dressed and sprinkled with (we think) chervil. It was topped with green beans in a light tempura batter and it was just ridiculously good. It's a combination that neither of us had seen or tried before. 

Onto desserts and Elly’s berry brulee was a bit workmanlike and unphotogenic, so I didn’t bother taking a photo. She also reckons she’d prefer it to be set a little more. Nevertheless it was still delicious, apparently. I didn’t get a look in.

I’d ordered chocolate marjolaine, a classic French layered dessert (I didn’t know this at the time, in fact I’d never heard of it before). It was nice, probably not £8 nice, but good.

Neither of the desserts we ate really lived up to previous courses, but I’m not complaining. Lunch at The Walnut Tree was one of the most enjoyable meals I’ve had anywhere, really special. The service was spot on, not too formal, pitched just right. The food was just beautiful and it tasted phenomenal. Expensive? Yep. Worth it? Yep.

At the end of the day, you’re eating food cooked by Shaun Hill and I’d say it’s every bit as good as what that promises.

The Walnut Tree

Llanddewi Skirrid,

Abergavenny,

Monmouthshire

NP7 8AW.

Telephone: 01873 852797

http://www.thewalnuttreeinn.com

New Potatoes - To peel or not to peel?

By virtue alone of the sheer volume of potatoes I’ve consumed in my lifetime, I consider myself something of an expert on spuds and the preparation and cookery, thereof. So, consider if you will my rapt attention whilst watching Simon Hopkinson prepare buttered new potatoes on his new TV program last week (yes, my Hoppy fixation rears its ugly head once again). He cooked them, OK, yes. But then…he peeled them.

This is something new to me, I mean, I realise you can peel cooked new potatoes but it’s such an utter frigging ballache to do, and the skins are supposedly so healthy and supposedly full of life enhancing nutrients that make your wanger strong or sumfink, so why bother? I’ve always been an unrepentant subscriber to the boil em, drain em, season em and whop a lump of butter to melt on them school.

Yet, Hopkinson’s bare spuds (steady) slowly cooked off in melted butter until glossy had me in a hypnotic daze with my tongue practically brushing my toes within seconds of appearing on the screen.

Hopkinson himself had nothing but utter contempt for the skins

“Now, would you want these little, leathery jackets on your potatoes when you could have them like that? My answer is No. Never. It’s worth all the effort, such as it is”

Which definitely reinforced my dawning realisation that I don’t actually know how to prepare new potatoes at all.

So, what to do but educate myself by cooking some spuds immediately, peeling those bad boys and seeing what all the fuss is about.

Of course, I’m sure you know how to boil some potatoes, but bear with me and I’ll remind you anyway, in case you’ve errr…somehow forgotten.

Hoppy prefers Pink Fir Apple potatoes. I used Jersey Royals, four per person.

Put em in a pan, cover with cold water. Add a pinch of salt and bring to the boil, for 10-12 minutes until tender.

Peel your potatoes whilst hot, this is apparently ‘easier’. I still found it maddening but ‘deep breath’.

Return your beautifully peeled potatoes to a pan, with a knob of butter and move around on a low heat until your spuds are nice and glossy. Season with salt and pepper, and then eat.

The result?

How could I ever doubt you Hoppy?

Buttery, perfect potatoes and on the plus side, no hidden manky bits lurking beneath the skin (my personal horror).

Consider me converted.

Definitely peel em.

An English Lettuce Salad

When I was a kid, we used to spend a fair bit of time at my Nan and Granddad’s house in East London. Quite often, if a lot of family were around, there would be some kind of buffet dinner going on. Often a component of this would be a classic English lettuce salad. The assembled adults all seemed to love it. I on the other hand thought it was disgusting. Whiffy hard-boiled eggs, the yolks lined with an unappetising grey ring; eye watering peppery radishes, rasping raw spring onion and just salad in general. Utterly minging. I just didn’t get it. I’d rather have eaten chips and baked beans.

Fast-forward 30 years. A bit older, a bit less finicky and a just a tad less imbecilic, flicking through ‘Second Helpings of Roast Chicken’ by Simon Hopkinson, a recipe for the exact same horror salad of my youth leapt from the page. Instead of retching and scurrying to the kitchen to find comfort in chips and a tin of beans, I was intrigued. It’s a British classic.

The upshot of all this waffling is, I made the salad and as well as being bloody delicious, it confirmed a few truths. First, once again, Simon Hopkinson is a God. Secondly, my Grandparents knew how to put together a salad; I was just too unsophisticated in my tastes to appreciate it. Soz. Finally, homemade salad-cream is absolutely banging, seriously good.

I’ve copied Simon Hopkinson’s recipe out verbatim below, but have a few points of my own to make.

The unappetising grey rings around a yolk are the result of not cooling down your hard-boiled ouefs in cold water. Do that and they won't materialise.

Six hearts of lettuce seems a bit much, I used three and that was plenty for four portions.

The mint really adds something, so I'd say stick a fair bit in, more than a 'few leaves' anyway.

Tarragon vinegar, you’ve either got it stocked locally or you haven’t. If not, stick some tarragon in a bottle of white wine vinegar, et voila, job-jobbed. Even if it’s only a couple of hours before you want to use it, that’ll work.

The salad cream I made, maddeningly split, I was whisking by hand, I couldn’t be arsed to get the blender out, resulting in me breaking out an impromptu, Basil Fawlty ranting impression. If you’ve got a blender, I suggest you employ that. If it does split, add a little sunflower/vegetable oil, a trickle at a time and blitz it, then add a bit more, blitz , repeat, etc. It should eventually re-emulsify and come together again. Sighs, relieved grins and hearty backslaps all round then.

Lastly, I love how Hoppy advises to use your good taste when arranging the salad on a plate. If you’re unfortunate enough to have none, then don’t panic, the finished article may indeed look like a frigging (strangely vegetarian) dog’s dinner, but it’ll still taste amazing anyway.

An English lettuce salad

Serves 4

You’ll need:

6 hard-boiled eggs, separated: the yolks sieved into a bowl, the whites coarsely chopped to add to the salad.

For the salad cream:

2 tsp sugar

salt and cayenne pepper

2 Tsp dry English mustard

1 ½ Tbsp tarragon vinegar

300ml whipping cream

1 Tbsp coarsely chopped fresh tarragon

For the salad:

6 hearts of very fresh round lettuces, separated into leaves, washed and dried.

12 thin, fresh spring onions, trimmed and sliced into 3cm lengths

12 radishes, washed, halved and put into ice-cold water for 30mins, to crisp up

½ a cucumber, peeled and not too thinly sliced

a few leaves of mint, torn to shreds.

To make the dressing, whisk together the egg yolks, sugar, seasoning, mustard and vinegar. Add the cream and tarragon and mix thoroughly.

Arrange the ingredients for the salad in a large shallow dish, employing good taste the while, so achieving as a natural a look as possible. Sprinkle over the chopped egg whites and then spoon over the cream dressing in dribbles and swirls.

Serve straight away.

Spiced Aubergine Salad

First things first, if you don’t already own it, and you have even the slightest interest in cooking, I urge you to immediately drop everything and hurry as fast as your legs can propel you towards the nearest bookshop. Once there, forcibly demand a copy of Simon Hopkinson’s ‘Roast Chicken and Other Stories’. It is without a doubt one of the finest recipe books ever printed; you will never regret buying it.

Perusing the contents, you’ll find that every recipe is a classic, they all work beautifully and it’s surprisingly comprehensive for such a small volume.

Where am I going with this? Well, my newly acquired Lamb Ste Menehould addiction has sparked a renewed interest in Elizabeth David’s recipes and Simon Hopkinson; who is also a fan, features a few in his book.

I’m sure you know who Elizabeth David is, but just in case you’re unsure, she was a hugely revered British cookery writer who pretty much singlehandedly changed the national outlook towards cooking and food in post-war Britain, still under rationing until 1954. Her books and articles inspired generations of cooks and chefs and still do to this day.

Apparently this spiced aubergine salad was one of her favourite dishes and appears in ‘Roast Chicken and Other Stories’. Typical of Simon Hopkinson, there are no shortcuts, everything is done properly and exactly so, and all the better for it. So prepare to skin your tomatoes and salt your aubergines.

Utter ball ache? Yeah, probably.
Worth it? Definitely.

This dish, similar to imam bayildi is absolutely delicious and handily, best served cold. So no need to rush making it. Definitely serve it with the mint yoghurt, maybe a bowl of brown rice or some toasted pita bread wouldn’t go amiss either.

Spiced Aubergine Salad
Serves 4

You’ll need: -
2 large aubergines
salt
100ml olive oil
2 large onions, peeled and finely chopped
8 ripe tomatoes, skinned and coarsely chopped
1 heaped tsp ground cumin
1 heaped tsp ground allspice
¼ tsp cayenne
4 garlic cloves, peeled and finely chopped
2 tbsp currants
2 heaped tbsp chopped fresh mint
2 heaped tbsp chopped fresh coriander

You’ll also need: -
Greek yoghurt
Handful of mint leaves
Tabasco

Cut the aubergines into 1cm cubes. Put them in a colander and sprinkle with 2 tsp of salt. Mix and leave to drain for 30-40 mins.

Meanwhile, heat 50ml of olive oil in a pan and fry the onions until golden.

Add the tomatoes and spices. Stew gently for 5-10 minutes, then stir in the garlic and take off the heat.

Stir in the currants.

Tip the aubergines into a clean tea towel and gently squeeze them dry.

Put the remaining 50ml of olive oil in a large frying pan and heat until smoking. Add the aubergines and stir-fry briskly until thoroughly golden and cooked through.

Into this stir in the onion and tomato mixture, add the fresh herbs.

Tip everything into a bowl and leave to cool. Taste and add salt & pepper, if needed.

Serve with a bowl of yoghurt containing fresh chopped mint through it and a few dashes of Tabasco to liven it up.

Lamb Ste Menehould

This dish is recognised as an absolute culinary classic. It’s an Elizabeth David belter of a recipe that somehow, had completely passed me by. Yes, I’m ashamed to say that I’d never heard of it until just the other week. My introduction was a starter at my favourite new restaurant; Bell’s Diner & Bar Rooms in Bristol and it blew me away.

It’s lamb breast in breadcrumbs and ‘holy-tasty-fried-meat’ it’s good. Good in a kind of similar way to the resulting carnage if Colonel Sanders had the afternoon off from chicken and was let loose with a cleaver and a deep fat fryer in a field full of sheep. Yeah that’s what I call finger licking good. Combine it with a sharp creamy tartare sauce? Frigging ding-dong.

Since that awakening moment, I’ve been thinking of nothing else but having a go at recreating it at home. First I studied the original Elizabeth David recipe (reproduced in Simon Hopkinson’s Roast Chicken & Other Stories), next I asked Chef Sam Sohn-Rethel from Bell’s how he made his version.

As you might imagine, the demands of a professional kitchen mean that Sam’s preparation and cooking methods are a bit different from Lizzy David’s home cooked version. The original recipe calls for the lamb to be slowly braised in white wine and water, breadcrumbed and finished in the oven. The restaurant version has the lamb breast salted, then cooked confit in duck fat (which makes sense for avoiding waste, confit meat keeps for ages) It’s then quickly deep fried to finish.

Being an awkward twat, I decided to pinch a bit of both methods. Mainly because I was too tight to buy duck fat for the confit and also because I’m lazy and I like the idea of finishing the dish in two minutes, especially after it has taken hours to prepare.

I should point out that lamb breast is one of those dirt-cheap, tough as old boots, cuts that when cooked for hours, tastes incredible.

So, here we have my bastardised recipe. It’s pretty rich, I don’t think you could eat loads, at least I couldn’t and I’m essentially a mouth connected to a bottomless pit, so I reckon this will easily feed 4. I served it with sauce Gribiche but at Bell’s, Sam served it with Tartare sauce and I reckon that’s definitely the better option. With regards to Tartare sauce, you can slavishly follow a recipe or do what I generally do, sling a few tablespoons of mayonnaise in a bowl and throw in a heaped tablespoon each of chopped capers, gherkins, parsley, and maybe a bit of tarragon and a tiny bit of Dijon. If you don’t have all of that, don’t worry, even if all you can rummage together is just mayo with some chopped gherkins through, it won’t be far wrong.

Lamb Ste Menehould

You’ll need:-
1 Breast of Lamb (bones left in)
2 Carrots, sliced
2 Onions, sliced
A few sprigs of thyme
1 Glass White Wine
1 Glass of Water
Salt & Pepper

You’ll also need:-
1 Egg, beaten
Flour for dusting
Breadcrumbs (preferably Panko, excellent Japanese breadcrumbs, widely available)

A deep fat fryer

Preheat the oven to 140C

Simply sling the lamb and the other bits and bobs into a pan, cover it with foil and whack in the oven for 3 hours. Turning the meat over every hour or so.

By this time, after you’ve let it cool down a bit, it should be so tender you can pull the bones right out.

You’ll need to sandwich your cold lamb breast between something flat, a couple of chopping boards or baking trays would be ideal. Place it in the fridge and weigh the top down with whatever’s handy. Ideally you’d want to leave it like this overnight, but a good few hours will probably do it.

When ready to serve, cut your lamb into oblong pieces, roughly a fingers length and say a couple of centimetres wide.
Dust in the flour, dip in the egg and then in the breadcrumbs.

Deep fry at around 190C for 2 minutes.

Season with salt.
Eat crisp and hot, dipped in tartare sauce.

Elizabeth David also recommends serving with some mashed potato, which sounds like a frigging capital idea. I love it – my recipe for uber mash is here

Thanks for Chef Sam Sohn-Rethel at Bell’s Diner & Bar Rooms for allowing me to reproduce his method here.

Essex Eating in Seville

A few weeks ago, I descended on Southern Spain, like an Essex accented pestilence stripping bare their bars of tapas, beer and sherry whilst leaving in my wake dazed, starving Spaniards who didn’t quite know what had hit them.

A major part of my ‘Essex pestilence tour’ was spent in Seville. An ancient city of culture, oranges, flamenco, tapas and errr…shoe shops. Honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many shoes for sale anywhere on the planet, but I digress, my entire focus was on eating and drinking, muchos, and that’s an aim I achieved for the three days I was there.

The budget didn’t stretch to fine dining and to be honest, that’s not the sort of place I’m after in Spain, because you can eat and drink incredibly well for relatively sod all at the less salubrious end of the scale. I’m at my happiest propped up at a bar, with a glass of sherry at 1.5 euros a glass, and with tapas just as much of a giveaway bargain, tipping both into my mouth, conveyor belt style, all night long.

So, bearing that in mind, here are the places I enjoyed the most on my brief visit.

La Brunilda

The food I ate here was without a doubt the best food I ate in Andalucía in the two weeks or so I was there. It was so good in fact, despite only being in Seville for three days and having a whole host of restaurants to try, I ate there twice.

Chef, Diego Caminos’ menu features traditional tapas with a modern slant, such as a take on Salmorejo featuring orange, raisins, mackerel and cress.

Other stand out dishes I wolfed down over the two visits included a beautifully flavoured and textured risotto (in fact one of the best I’ve eaten anywhere) which featured the unlikely pairing of a sweet red wine reduction, truffle oil, orange and asparagus.

Excellent salt cod fritters with pear alioli.

Foie gras cooked ‘a la plancha’.

A slider style veal burger, which was delicious.

In fact, everything I ate here from start to finish was superb. Nothing disappointed, and as you can see from the pics, I gave the menu a pretty thorough going over. Even better, it was incredibly cheap. If you’re visiting Seville, I can’t recommend this place enough.

La Brunilda

c/ Galera 5

(near Mercado Arenal)

Telephone: 954 220 481

Eslava

I had a cracking lunch at Eslava, standing outside on the pavement basking in the warmth of the Spanish midday sun. When I arrived, it was rammed, with more people turning up the whole time. It’s definitely a popular joint. The prices are ridiculously cheap; hardly anything on the tapas menu is above 3 Euros. As you can imagine, I happily took advantage of the fact.

My ‘I’ll stick anything in my mouth’ outlook demanded that I started off with some of the Sangre Encebollada (a sort of black pudding made from fried chicken blood). To be honest, I can’t say I was a massive fan; it was quite flavourless and had a texture somehow reminiscent of biting into a lump of Plasticine.

Shaking my head to clear horrific flashbacks to childhood culinary experimentation, I moved onto the much more agreeable, roasted pork ribs with rosemary honey glaze. These were excelllent. 

Green Pepper stuffed with Hake was also pretty damn nice as was a piece of roasted mackerel.

Scallops with seaweed puree and rather pretentious sounding kataifi noodles (turns out it's a type of finely shredded filo) were also good.

Finally, if you thought the noodles sounded a  bit special, how about a slow cooked egg served on a mushroom cake with caramelized wine reduction? Posh but peasant(ly) priced at 2 Euro 50 (see what I did there?) In case you're wondering, it was pretty nice actually.

Eslava

c/Eslava 5

Telephone: 954 906 568

La Azotea

La Azotea felt somewhat similar to La Brunilda with regards to the modern take on traditional tapas. No surprise then that I liked it so much.

Croquettas with an Oso Buco filling. Errr....Hell yes!

Even better, Iberico Pork cheek and goats cheese gratin.

A plate of Morcilla with caramelized onion and quails egg was similarly delicious.

The only dish that didn’t quiet come off was a special of avocado and cucumber salmorejo (so basically guacamole, yeah?) with fried baby squid. It was incredibly rich, thick and cloying. It didn’t matter though, as with the other places I’ve recommended above, the menu was priced so you can romp through it to your hearts content and not really have to worry about the bill too much. Got to love that.

La Azotea

Jesús del Gran Poder, 31

Telephone: 955 116 748

Casa Morales

Finally, how about something a bit more traditional? A proper bar, which does excellent, old school tapas. They must be doing something right, it’s been open since 1850. It’s very atmospheric, battered, noisy, packed and most importantly, cheap.

This is the perfect place to stand at the battered age worn bar, necking bargain sherry or a cold beer and topping yourself up with jamon.

Casa Morales

Garcia de Vinuesa 11

Massive thanks to Shawn of Sevilla Tapas for all the tips.

Bell's Diner & Bar Rooms - Bristol

Bell’s Diner is something of a Bristol restaurant institution. Located on a corner site in the Montpelier area of the city, it first opened its doors under Shirley Anne Bell in 1976 as a French bistro style restaurant, which was popular with a largely student crowd. Later, after a period as a vegetarian restaurant and then, once again a French bistro, in 1997 it was bought by chef Chris Wicks whose menus had more of a fine dining style and combined classic cooking with cutting edge culinary techniques. So it remained, until the beginning of this year, when it was announced that Bell’s was once again up for sale.

Step forward chef Sam Sohn-Rethel, ex Moro, Lido and Flinty Red whose absolutely belting cooking at Manna had made it by far my favourite Bristol restaurant. I was sad to hear he was leaving, but excited when I found out he was taking over Bells, which is closer to where I live and much more importantly, downhill, although thinking about it, that’s going to be a real embuggerance when rolling back home afterwards, stuffed silly and drunk.

When the restaurant re-opened under Sam, I was abroad, doing my best to eat the Spanish out of all of their grub and drinking much of their sherry but I headed over to Bell’s as soon as I arrived back, for a solo lunch last week and then went there again, the very next night for dinner with Elly. I think you can probably ascertain from the double visit that I thought it was a bit good.

So, let’s get it out of the way early. This is undoubtedly my new favourite Bristol restaurant.

Let’s talk about lunch.

From the outside things looked more or less the same. However, stepping through the front door into what was once the reception area, there now sits a small bar, which is a good use of the space. I always liked the front dining room at Bell’s; it’s a lovely space and taking a seat at my table it’s apparent this hasn’t really changed.

Sam’s cooking style here remains exactly what made me such a fan at Manna. Spanish-North African and Mediterranean flavours with a bit of classic British thrown in for good measure all put together with top quality ingredients. He’s continued with the small plate dining format, but there are some larger, pricier dishes here too. A Big Green Egg BBQ in the kitchen means charcoal grilled ingredients feature throughout the menu. As with Sam’s previous restaurant gig, a British artisan cheese section on the menu gets a massive thumbs-up from me.

Bearing all this in mind, I settled in for what I expected to be a cracking lunch and proceeded to order a few dishes from the small plate menu. First up, some bread, baked on site by their pastry chef. It had a nice springy texture and a beautiful chewy, marmitey crust. Cracking stuff especially when lavishly smeared with rather luxurious Abernethy butter, which is apparently handmade in Northern Ireland.

I picked at a beautiful looking bowl of house pickles as my food started appearing from the kitchen.

First up, Salt cod fritters with a mayonnaise dip, simple, well made and absolutely delicious.

Next, a lighter dish of broad beans, cumin yoghurt, Israeli couscous and coriander. The texture of the couscous was phenomenal, large individual beads, unlike the fine grains I’m normally used to. Again, lovely stuff.

A small plate of Charcoal-Grilled Chicken Oyster Pincho, marinaded in Chipotle with Harissa Yoghurt impressed me no end. As you’re no doubt aware, chicken oysters, the tender tastiest pieces of meat, located underneath the bird are highly prized by greedy bastards in the know. Here in front of me, as if in some delirious meat laden dream was a load of them, threaded on a skewer spiced and chargrilled. Unbelievably good.

But not as good as a plate of Kid’s Liver, Charcoal Grilled Onions and Naga Chilli Pickle. I’ve never eaten goat’s liver before and true to my instinctive need to stuff all unknown items into my gob, this is what I went for and I’m chuffed that I did. It had a rich but mild liver taste, combined with the grilled onions and the almost toffee sweet heat of the chilli pickle. Absolutely banging. Loved every bite.

Finally, a lurid orange scoop of Alphonso Mango ice cream had a fantastic velvety texture and a superb flavour. As someone who has dabbled in the art of making ice cream on more than a few occasions I can tell you now, this was quality stuff.

Would you believe, except the ice-cream at £2.50 a go, all of these dishes were on the lunch menu for £4 each? Or if that’s not a bargain of the instantly chew their arm off variety enough for you, how about 3 dishes for £10?

So, a really cracking lunch and incredible value for money, so much so that I headed back again, for dinner with Elly the next night…

We started off with more of the excellent house pickles, bread and stonking Abernethy butter and as it was a Friday (and we really need no encouragement whatsoever), we decided to crack into the plonk. Turns out the wine list is good and as much as a bargain as the food, with a general policy of adding about a £10 mark-up on the cost price.

Deciding to get a starter each and ‘one for the pot’ I only had eyes for one thing, spied on the specials board as I walked in. ‘Elizabeth David’s Lamb St Menehould with Tartare Sauce’. Get in my frigging belly. An absolute classic of breadcrumbed and fried breast of lamb. Any chef, who’s putting Lizzy David’s grub on the menu, can do no wrong in my eyes. It was amazing and at £3.50 they’re practically giving it away.

Meanwhile, across the way, Elly was wide eyed, surveying three huge seared scallops surmounting a plate of chopped summer salad. She’s scoffed a fair few scallops in her time and in her opinion, these were the best, the fattest and juiciest she’s had. Fair play. The sweetness of the scallops when eaten with the sharpness of the chopped salad was delicious.

Our shared starter was a plate of Goat’s Curd with Tomatoes, Basil and Chilli. Fresh tasting and light, as with everything else, a cracking plate of grub. Later on in the year, if we actually have a summer, this dish can only improve as tomatoes get some warmth and sweeten.

Elly’s main effort was directed at a plate of Handmade Westcombe Ricotta Ravioli, Roasted Cherry Tomatoes, Asparagus and Broad Beans which she demolished in no time, reckoning it good but not quite as spectacular as some of the other dishes we’d tried.

However, something else from the specials board, Short Rib of Beef cooked in Rioja with Chorizo. Slow cooked meat, with a bone sticking out of it? Yep, this one’s for me. Soft, rich, falling apart as sank my fork into it. Boody amazing.

By this point we were both pretty stuffed and as I had been so impressed with the ice-cream at lunch the previous day, we had another go. This time, chocolate for Elly, which had the same beautiful texture and just the right level of bitter sweetness. I had Rum & Raisin (with neat rum poured over the top) so just the right level of borderline alcoholic to suit moi.

So, as I said right at the beginning of the review; By virtue of Sam’s cooking, Bell’s has instantly jumped to the top of my favourite restaurants in Bristol list, even after only being open for a couple of weeks, it’s really that good and it’s only going to get better, as they settle in.

Sam is a seriously talented chef and it’s patently obvious from his menus and his grub that he absolutely loves cooking and eating.

I really can’t praise it enough. Lovely food. Cracking restaurant. Get over there and enjoy it.

Bell’s Diner & Bar Rooms

1-3 York Road

Montpelier

Bristol

BS6 5QB

Telephone 0117 9240357

http://www.bellsdiner.com