Yum Yum Thai, Park St, Bristol, 28.10.09

I've been to Yum Yum Thai a few times over the past twelve months and haven't been disappointed yet. Yum Yum's philosophy is forward thinking for its genre- all MSG free, organic wines, and free range chicken. Its website has curious jazz trio musak, and details all sorts of offers for theatre-goers, nurses and students alike. There also a sister restaurant in Bath.

The vibe is cafe style with informal place settings and booths. The service is always top class with smiles and efficiency aplenty. Thai green and red curries arrive with trademark domes of rice, and the pad thai is truly gargantuan. Throw in some tasty dumplings and you've got yourself a reliable Park Street favourite.

Star and Dove, Totterdown, Bristol, 22.10.09

Despite living a stone's throw from the Star and Dove, and it being touted as a rather good local, I have only visited once before. Last time was a tasty "thai night" accompanied by a rather humiliating pub quiz experience.


Things have moved on considerably since then, and the Star and Dove is muscling into, and perhaps beyond, serious gastropub territory. On first impressions the dining area certainly feels like a pub- assorted reclaimed chairs and wooden tables, with a bar slapped in the middle. Bold blue walls compete with a touch of Bowie in the background. The main drinking area is separated from the dining, and it is at this point that you start to get the impression they're taking it seriously.


The officious menu arrives on a clipboard. To start, potted prawn cocktail is firm and fleshy with fiery cubes of bloody mary jellies, and a ying and yang arrangement of sauces to bathe the bowl. Duck parfait with sweet beets is silky and is positively enhanced by a lack of accompanying bread accompaniment. The chunky chestnut chowder is dotted with delicate pickled mushrooms.



The mains retain firmly British roots. Hare, game bird and pearl barley is ceromoniusly presented in a piping skillet, perfectly seasoned and polished with a baked egg. The roasted whole quail is moist and conveniently balanced with the salty flavours of a ham hock hash. Crispy pork belly is a generously-presented, tender slab, but has lost its crunch somewhere along the line. Its accompanying black pudding and apple pie favours the stronger pudding flavours. It is a fun idea to deconstruct the pork pie and with a little tweaking it might just work. Side orders are extra, and the green veg are a little too al dente for everyone's taste.



Chocolate and coconut tart follows, with a lovely sting of sour milk sorbet to calm the sweetness down. The enormous cheese board includes some beautiful unpasteurised ewe's cheese with chunky homemade oatcakes.



For what is essentially still a pub, the Star and Dove has set the bar extremely high and will be judged by punters accordingly. It is outstandingly good value but there is no mistaking the quality and finesse with which it delivers its food. However, it is still teething. Even on a quiet Wednesday night, whilst the service is efficient but gentle, dishes are slow to appear. There is a strong leaning towards presentation which includes plenty of wooden slabs, artistic streaks of sauces and delicately placed salad leaves. It is classy, but somewhat out of sync with the reassuringly modest surroundings. I would prefer a punctual and crisp pork belly over a culinary Jackson Pollock any day, but it certainly won't stop me finding myself at this place again very soon indeed.

The Clove, Luckwell Road, Bristol, 15.06.09

I had read some rather slanderous material about the Clove on the internet before this first trip. It described a lack-lustre place with arrogant staff, but with a recommendation from a trusted friend I threw caution to the wind. Indian takeaway on a balmy summer evening- well, there was certainly no evidence that anyone had decided to sit in. Even stepping through the door the eager waiters beckoned us to sit down and read the menus. I got the impression they had been kicking their heels for some hours.

Here comes the disappointing bit. A cursory head count revealed a roughly correct number of dishes in the carrier bag after an unnervingly quick preparation time. Unfortunately our chicken and lamb dishes had transformed into vegetable and tofu curries by the time we got home (I know south Bristol is green, but surely there isn't a meat destroying spell cast on us all?). The rice had turned into two vegetable samosas and the poppadums had done a disappearing trick to make Houdini proud. A quick phone call revealed their unapologetic side and they were apparently unable to save us another 20 minute round walk and jump in a car to deliver the correct food. The offer was four free poppadums if we wanted to walk back and swap it. No chance. Actually the food was between standard and good, but their unhelpful attitude left a bitter pill and not one that I'll go back again to swallow.

The Old Rectory Hotel, Martinhoe, North Devon, 12.06.09

Everyone knows the southern bits of Devon- Torquay, Fawlty Towers, Plymouth, Sir Francis Drake, and so on. Cast your eyes to the north coast and you might get a pleasant surprise.  A flying visit to the Old Rectory Hotel in Martinhoe was the ideal antidote to a particularly poisonous Friday evening  on the M5.  Tucked away beyond Ilfracombe, even your satnav might not locate this little retreat. This hotel changed hands less than two years ago and the new owners have tastefully furnished the eight bedrooms. Other bits still feel like a work in progress, but then they'd happily admit to that.

However, it is food that owner Huw Rees is passionate about, so passionate in fact that he dons a navy-striped apron and cooks it himself. The dining room is spacious but filled with the current cohort of hotel guests. The combination of "Il Divo" (or similar) piped music and lurid carpet of a previous decade sets a curious tone, and the atmosphere is dictated by a somewhat mature audience of diners. A risotto starter with leeks and pancetta is well-seasoned and confidently runny. The rack of lamb is split open to serve, and is accompanied by a simple red wine reduction. It grew up in a field a few miles away and the result is a full-flavoured meat which is left pink and easy on the knife. The vegetables are plain- boiled potatoes and broccoli, plus a rather mushy courgette, white wine and garlic melange that doesn't work. The treacle tart isn't bad, but the cheese portions are a little light. 

Overall the experience is pretty good. On the one hand it's home-cooked fayre with locally sourced meat and fish. On the other, there are confused vegetables and good but homesick risotto wrapped up with an awful CD and a lairy carpet. There's a slight inflexibility in the approach to service, but these are early days in what could be a successful little venture.

Bell's Diner, Bristol, 20.05.09

I'm not really sure how I've managed to avoid Bell's Diner since relocating to Bristol 18 months ago or so. Maybe the hype that surrounds it made it subconsciously unappealing, or its quirky location in Montpelier was a turn off. Either way I've been truly missing out.

Bell's is an eclectic collection of rooms defined by white linen table cloths and French formality but it is immediately apparent that staff are enthused by the food. An amuse bouche shot-glass of asparagus puree with truffle foam awakens the palate. The exquisite two-hour poached duck egg is delicate and beautifully gelatinised, and is given a firm shove by its accompanying Iberico ham jelly and asparagus. The pink but bloodless rump of lamb is accompanied by a brooding hot pot of sweetbreads, kidneys and shoulder. Dessert does not fade- a banana souffle is ceremoniously impaled at the table before a dousing of toffee sauce. The lemon fantasy is a tour of four desserts journeying citron tart to sweet.

This place seem fresh but oozes a sense of reliability. Forget the penny-pinchers and ditch the mediocre establishments. For just a few more pounds you can have Bell's. I'll be back.

Cafe Gandolfi, Glasgow, 07.05.09

By all accounts Cafe Gandolfi was one of the first establishments to set foot in the Merchant City area of Glasgow, during almost three decades of refurbishment and development. The word on the street is that Gandolfi is one of the respected Glaswegian players, and on entering its woody, cavernous, dim-lit interior it feels like a distinguished grandfather of restaurants.

The philosophy is firmly Scottish- local produce, quality organic meats- but there are pepperings of ragu, strains of coriander and smatterings of Italian cheese throughout the menu. Whilst the daily specials menu is inspired, it still has stiff competition with regulars such as meatloaf; smoked haddock and tiger prawn liguine; and neeps and tatties. I couldn't ignore the starter of Stornoway white pudding with apple, crispy onions and Cumberland sauce. My university days in Edinburgh founded my love of such puddings and although the black version is also available, it would be foolish to pass up its white cousin.

Perfectly moist on-the-bone chicken breast is encased in a salt-crisp skin, and compliments the al dente (although slightly underseasoned) red cabbage accompaniment. My food envy fuse is immediately ignited by the salmon and coriander pastry parcel (which for all purposes is a Cornish pasty in design). Both my companions had to provide me with generous forkfuls- the pastry is soft and there is plentiful fish.

Dessert was skipped with unfortunate external time pressures (but by no means on account of the attentive but informal service style). For a next visit, Glasgow offers a wealth of eating experiences, but I'd find it hard not to resist Gandolfi or its sister establishment for a more leisurely affair.

Tapeo, Belsize Park, London 05.05.09

How often do you find yourself exhausted from playing a piano gig, semi-satieted with canapes but in need of something wholesome before you retire? Once business is done at Holborn Viaduct, the workers beaver their way home and the resulting culinary offerings are minimal at best.

Tapeo at Belsize Park, a stone's throw from my temporary bed, came to the rescue. Even past 10pm there was no reticence- the British unenthusiasm for late night dining has not pervaded this place yet. A scattering of tables on the cold May pavement, a wall of mirrors and no frills interior- Tapeo is functional but retains Spanish warmth. Service is delivered with a wry smile. Plates arrive promptly. Cheese-topped gooey aubergine wrestles chipped patatas with pungent garlic mayonnaise. The tortilla is a little uninspiring, but sizzling prawns live up to their intro albeit slightly lacklustre on the flavour front.

Hats off to Tapeo for prompt sustinence to those in need, but there's a suspicious air of readiness about some of the plates. With everything consistently above the fiver mark, a tapas dish really needs to command its worth.