#35: Sticks & Broth

I have one word: finally. Finally I am free from the soul-crushing envy that comes from hearing all about these awesome London ramen joints when I don’t live in London or its vicinity. I do live in the vicinity of Bristol, however, and Bristol has Sticks & Broth. Phew.

I’m always keen to try craft beers brewed specifically for a certain restaurant – what better way to pair up flavours than by creating your own beverage? This Red Ginger Pale was ideal to go with Japanese food. It was light and slightly fruity, with just a gentle warmth from the ginger. I can’t stand the throat-tickling fire of ginger beer, so finding a ginger… beer so enjoyable was a pleasant surprise.

To start, I had tempura prawns and my friend had gyoza. I won here, because while his gyoza were tasty enough in the crispy-chewy-umami way that gyoza always are, the prawns were huge and juicy. Their natural sweetness and the crunch of the tempura were cut through by a smear of wasabi mayo and slivers of red ginger.

Tempura is all well and good (very good), but the ramen is what’s been in short supply in this neck of the woods. I had the chasu pork ramen, which had two rounds of perfectly be-crackingled pork belly, seaweed, a soy-marinated egg, spring onion and sesame seeds. The broth was savoury and meaty, and the noodles an authentic consistency. I’m not usually a fan of eggs where the yolk is anything other than cooked-to-solidity, but here the creaminess of its semi-soft centre complemented the other flavours. Consider me at least semi-sold on the idea. And 100% sold on the ramen here in general.

My pal went for the house ramen, which teamed tender shreds of beef brisket and rocket with the same pork bone broth as the chasu option. The bowls were deep – and full to the brim with generous servings of each topping – but we soldiered through like true samurais, I feel. The range of toppings on offer was impressive, too, meaning I’m already desperate to make a return visit.

The service was fast and friendly – my only niggle was that the restaurant’s website claims it only accepts bookings for groups of eight or more. When we arrived (as a pair, on a Friday evening) we were told that was actually no longer the case – we were absurdly lucky to nab the last table that was freeing up. And I am very glad that we did.

#30: The King William

Given the proximity in which the boy and I live to this pub, it’s sort of silly that it took us six months to actually eat there. Because the King William has such a small downstairs, it’s also really hard to get a table to sample the bar menu at. There is an upstairs dining room, but it’s more of a formal restaurant, from what I gather. In the end, we actually wound up sampling something from both menus.

Seeing as our super-cheerful waiter was seemingly more than happy to let us mix and match, despite the fact we’d booked a table in the bar area, we got starters from the restaurant menu and mains from the bar one. I started with pork and chorizo rilletes, served with kohlrabi. It was rich, meaty and cut through by the crisp sides.

Tom had soft-boiled quails’ eggs with a potato salad and cheese twists. It was light and delicate, with gooey yolks perfect for dipping.

For my main, I ordered a burger. And as soon as it arrived, I regretted having ordered a starter. A huge, juicy, pink-centred thing topped with cheese and bacon, it was the first burger in a long time to best me. That is saying something. Chips were the same triple-cooked beauties I’d expect from the people who own the Garrick’s Head, and the coleslaw was refreshingly tangy.

The boy, as almost always, ordered steak – a generously sized and nicely cooked flatiron with more of those gorgeous chips. Best of all, along with a pint each (it is one of our locals, after all), the bill came to around £25 each. I’ll happily sacrifice some Friday-night spontaneity to book again for that.

#24: The Garrick’s Head

I am very familiar indeed with the ‘pub’ room of the Garrick’s Head. I have spent many a chilly winter evening sat cosily by its open fire, revelling in its extensive wine list. Its dining room also has a great rep, but I’d never ventured in. Probably too busy cursing Alison Steadman for letting a draught in. (This did actually once happen.)

To start, I had duck liver parfait, with home-made duck ham. I love pâté – and this was beautifully smooth, with ‘bread crisps’ serving as a light, crunchy vehicle – but it was the idea of duck ham that sold me. Two pieces were smoked; the third resembled Serrano. A good starter should leave you hungry for your main course, and this was a lovely, cheeky garter-flash before the big event.

The boy had potted crab – zingy with lemon and parsley, and a gentle warmth of chilli. It was served with a cute dainty focaccia, an attention to detail that pleased him no end.

Friday nights at the Garrick are steak night. I wouldn’t usually need any more encouragement than that, being well on side with both weekends and seared hunks of beef, but it also means that my 8oz flank steak was just £7.95, including garlic butter, sweet onion purée and a hefty serving of chips. I’d chosen flank because I’ve never eaten it before, and I reckon that veering off the beaten track is the best way to get yourself a new favourite cut (which is how I met flatiron). It was clearly handled by someone who knew how to to cook a damn good steak, but wasn’t quite flavoursome enough to make it into my hit parade. I much preferred the boy’s rump steak (still just £10.95!), which was juicy and delicious and enough to have me sneaking more morsels than would normally be considered decent.

And oh, the chips. They were beasts: chunky, triple-cooked things with a jaggy crust millimetres thick hiding a fluffy interior. If chips could be made human-sized, I might consider shacking up with one.

Incredible value, great food and an intimate candle-lit dining room? Turns out I can be lured away from that wine list, after all.

(Top image: Flickr/pussy_galore_)

#21: No.1 Harbourside

First, a confession: I have actually eaten at Bristol’s No.1 Harbourside before. But since I last did so, it feels like a different beast entirely – enough so to still warrant a post here. When I first went, it functioned in a very similar vein to its sister restaurant, The Canteen – a menu that changed daily, with everything preceded by a complimentary bowl of soup. Now, it’s a more stable menu of small plates and main courses. The focus on local ingredients, however, has remained.

My friend and I started off by sharing one of the small plates, a portion of tempura kale. Covering this leafy superveg in batter and then deep-frying it does, admittedly, seem somewhat unnecessary. But it’s the kind of excess I wholeheartedly advocate. The batter was light and crispy; the kale a deliciously savoury hit. It was served with a sweet and sour sauce, which was mercifully light on the usual chemical sweetness – it was a darker, more hoi sin-esque dip.

As a main, I had a burger. Or, to be more precise, a half-pound behemoth made of ox cheek. Notably coarser and juicier than a normal patty, it was perhaps among the best-tasting I’ve ever had. It was far too big to tackle with my hands, meaning that a knife and fork were key to retaining what small amount of dignity I have left. I’d never eaten ox cheek before – and certainly hadn’t ever expected to encounter it ground up and shaped into a burger – but I’ve been singing its praises to everyone who’s crossed my path since.

My friend had the fish of the day – lobster with spaghetti, tarragon and garlic. He said it was sweet and packed with flavour, with the right balance of shellfish to pasta.

Best of all, despite its shift in setup, No.1 Harbourside has kept the reasonable pricing that (along with the food, of course) made it such an attractive proposition from the off. The bill for all of this, plus a bottle of wine? £44 between us. Oh, and if anyone would like to tempura any other members of the cabbage or spinach families, I’m more than willing to act as a guinea pig.

(Top image: Flickr/Simon Bisson)

#8: Yammo

I have been pushing for this visit for a long time. I’ve heard good things, read good reviews and have to walk past the place every damn day on my way to/from work. Unfortunately, I live with a boy who doesn’t think that going out for Italian is a bowl-you-over experience. Well, I got my way.

After one slightly embarrassing ‘menu on fire via tealight’ incident (oops!) , we had the misto fritto selection of street food to share as a starter. Basically, I was indecisive and wanted to try everything. So: bolognese and mushroom arancini, breaded mozzarella, potato croquette, macaroni cheese and ham fritter, and polenta cubes. Oof.

The arrabiata dipping sauce was amazing – really savoury, with an incredible depth of flavour. I asked, and apparently the (now not-so) secret ingredients are cinnamon and star anise. I am so trying this for myself.

As a main, I had a pizza with smokey mozzarella and Italian sausage. The mozzarella gave it a really rich, distinctive flavour, and the dough was super light and almost as tasty as the toppings. The guy sat next to us was Italian, and I heard him explaining to his girlfriend that this type of pizza crust is about flavour rather than crunch. That's a trade-off I'm more than happy to make.

The only slight problem is that it wasn’t actually the pizza I’d ordered. There was also a pizza bianca version of it on the menu, which was what I’d opted for. When I pointed this out to the waitress (who was apparently new and still getting acquainted with the menu), she did offer to get it remade, but as my boyfriend’s burger was already sat in front of him, I didn’t really want to wait another 15 minutes or so before I could eat. But hey, it was good enough that I’m not dissuaded from the idea of returning. I think even the boy may have been convinced.

#6: The Pump Room

I’ve had quite the spate of ‘touristy’ Bath activities over the past week: I visited the Roman Baths on Saturday, went to the Thermae Spa on Monday, and then last night the boyfriend and I finally got our glad rags on and went to eat at the Pump Room. I guess it’s easy to skip over the places you take for granted.

There was a great-value set menu of specials (£16 for two or £20 for three courses), but there was too much on the à la carte that caught our eyes. It ended up at around £40 each, including wine and tip, so not scandalous for pleasingly fancy evening out. I started with the confit duck leg, which came as a salad. The meat was tender and the salad was fresh – even if the dressing was a little heavy on the soy sauce, it was still a lovely, light dish.

But it was my choice of main that had drawn me to the full menu. Braised lamb shoulder with a fondant potato so buttery it was practically a mash, garlic cream and broad beans. The lamb was fall-apart-at-sharp-look tender, and the jus was sticky and meaty and practically had me licking at the china in an unseemly fashion. There was a fairly strong attempt to upsell us side dishes, but the plate was so rich and satisfying that I’m glad we declined.

To finish, we shared a cheese plate – a brave move on the part of the boy, given that I’ll fight to the death for the last morsel of brie. Surprisingly, though, said brie wasn’t the star of the plate: that was the strong, tangy blue. Thankfully, there was no dairy-provoked violence.

My only niggle was the atmosphere. It’s a large, incredibly high-ceilinged dining room, which was only about half-full when we were there – not surprising, given that it was midweek and the restaurant has been open evenings for May only (it normally looks rammed during the day). There was a pianist playing some of the time, which pepped things up, but otherwise it was more than a little hushed and… library-ish. I’m still thinking about that lamb dish, mind. Maybe we’ll have to go back for lunch.

#1: Sea urchin nigiri

I am not a particularly squeamish eater. I’ve cheerily eaten various cuts of offal, griddled octopus tentacles – hell, a few weeks ago I ate beef heart tartar. I see adventurous items on a menu almost as a gauntlet thrown down to me. Bring it on.

And so it was with sea urchin. Once I’d seen it on the menu at Bamboo Sushi (my current favourite sushi in Bath), I couldn’t not order it. Also, I felt like I could hardly call myself a sushi fan if I didn’t. Uni – sea urchin – is renowned as a delicacy in Japan, served as nigiri sushi atop a small block of rice, with a strip of nori around the outside edge to keep it in place.

I can see why it’s got a reputation as an acquired taste. Salty without being overtly ‘fishy’, it has a texture more akin to a set custard than anything I’d usually associate with sushi. It wasn’t unpleasant, although I’m unsure if I’d order it again.

More pleasing to my coddled Western palate was this somewhat less traditional rainbow roll – another first for me – and some tako (octopus) nigiri. But I’m not going to lie: I do feel like I’ve earned a few sushi stripes now.