I passed many happy hours, many, many times in Purnell’s. It was luxurious in a Birmingham sort of way. It was both sophisticated and comfortable. It had with it a sense of humour running through it and it was so relaxing. The food of course, at its height, deserved another star.
But Purnell’s is gone. Glynn Purnell, in his early middle age, has embraced change and the realities of the state of the hospitality business in the mid-2020s under Starmer and Reeves. First there came a country town pub and then a tapas bar and then an ephemeral bistro in Coventry. And now we have a full-on 90 minutes only sittings, bustling wine bar/restaurant in the depths of an always intriguing glass monster in Snowhill. Lots of coloured lights, a very crowded kitchen in the corner of the dining area where you can see quite closely the sweat on the brows of two Michelin-starred chefs working almost elbow to elbow and a clientele of comfortably off quite old lunchers side by side with besuited office men and quite chicly dressed younger women hoping to be noticed and all, like me, photographing their food.
And there are so many familiar faces working there, some of whom had previously worked for Purnell or for Rob Palmer when he had been Head Chef at Hampton Manor where Peel’s Restaurant won a Michelin star while he was working there or for him when he had his own small Michelin-listed restaurant, Toff’s, in Solihull high street. There were two front of house staff from Simpsons including Thomas Moore who had been, for a few months, the sommelier there and a fine job he had been doing there, There was the former restaurant manager from Kray Tredwell’s 670 Grams and the former restaurant manager of the glitzy Gaucho in Church Street opposite the Grand Hotel. Quite a line up.
I was the first customer served at 12 noon on the restaurant’s first day of opening. How did its galaxy of Birmingham restaurant figures do in the first 90 minutes of service? Did the food match up to the para-glitz?
Well, let’s remember that this was the birth of Trillium and some births can be easier than others and I was dining there when the placenta was still waiting to be delivered though the child was giving its first shrieks of being brought into the world. It was a good welcome with Glynn Purnell doing his best to shake everyone’s hands as they arrived. Many of those there at this moment, I suspect were old fans of his and keen to relive their Purnell memories and share with him his vision of Birmingham’s culinary future. At the end of the first hour the place was full and buzzing, the multitude of chefs almost tripping over each other in the small cooking area and food coincidently getting colder than one might have expected. But let’s remember, this was hour one, day one and everything follows the rule that practice makes perfect.
To start, I chose an eponymous Trillium cocktail - it seemed appropriate to start off with the restaurant’s own. However, for some reason, the Trillium was not available so I chose instead a pleasing Sour though the price seemed a little ambitious. I was beginning to feel I was lunching in London and Trillium reminded me of Fallow where I had dined a couple of Christmases ago prior to seeing another Shakespeare mangling in a West End theatre - bustle, noise, the rapid evaporation of money and middle class rusticity.
And so, en fin, to the food. I had a mild gasp when I saw the prices but settled down to see what Purnell and Parmer were going to serve up for that sort of cash. It was recommended that I have a snack to start, a couple of small plates and then a large plate. I broadly followed the guidelines. Snackwise I opted for Trillium milk loaf, (£7.50) restfully lemon coloured with a tasty soft crust paired with a dip of balsamic vinegar, oil and chicken fat. This was good but in the back of my mind I longed for the halcyon days of Purnell’s pain de campagne with cultured butter.
I also chose, and enjoyed, a single but large (“XXL”) gougère (on the menu “gougére”). The exterior was enjoyably crispy and the innards molten and full of flavour and, like everything else, not cheap at £6 per gourgère). I failed to photograph it. Then on to the roast Orkney scallop ‘small plate’ - it was well-cooked as one would hope it to be when paying £20 for a single and not enormous scallop and I felt I had had more enjoyable accompaniments with scallops than the not-overwarm dessert spoonful of oxtail Bolognaise ragu that lurked on the shell under the scallop like a diminutive Peeping Tom.
My ‘large plate’ was grilled Tamworth pork chop (£35) served with salsa verde, olive and manchego. This was a bountiful pork chop, well-cooked but rendered vaguely unpleasant by the bitter salsa verde. This dish may have appealed to those who view themselves as having sophisticated palates which happily embrace bitterness but it did not appeal to me. And the chop was so large that I became bored with it by the time I had eaten half of it and there was nothing to do but to scrape the salsa off it, cut it up and take it back home for Lucy the Labrador who delightedly make short measure of it. The best part of the course was the really rather good gratin of baked potato, crispy skins and chive (the flavour of which was for me completely muted) though the portion was very small and severely overpriced at £6. I felt, on the whole, I could do an equally good job of cooking a pork chop and mashed potato at home, far more interesting than this, at a fraction of the price.
After the great lump of pork I wanted a light dessert and opted for zabaglione. This was good, possibly needing to be somewhat more robust with its coffee flavour but the figs were a fine addition and the tiny spiced doughnuts were something of a hit.
All was done. The restaurant was full. The heat was rising. The micro-kitchen was where all the action was while the front of house staff were not looking too hard pressed. When paying the bill I was happy to pay the ‘optional’ service charge but not amused by then being asked if I would like to pay an additional ‘tip’ above and beyond the service charge. No I didn’t like. This is a trick which I think is oozing out of London and before that, I think, the United States. This is not appropriate in Birmingham.
Purnell has opted to withdraw from fine dining and to go the small plates/large plates route and to charge a lot of money for relatively simple dishes which appear to be largely unimpressive. Purnell’s strength was always in the ingenuity and humour of the fine, gorgeous-looking dishes that came out of his kitchen. ‘Rustic and expensive’ do not in any way attract me but I’m sure Purnell has an enthusiastic audience of diners ready to eat simply but pay the price for something which should have more flair, more thrill and more culinary ambition to it. Compared with what came before, there seems to be a laziness about it all. Money for old rope you might say. It’s early days (well, the earliest actually) but food needs to come out of the kitchen hot. I don’t think that this concept has any direction at present - is it a wine bar? Is it a restaurant worthy of being included in the Michelin Guide? Is it just a place for cool people to be seen and to draw attention to themselves? Time will tell. But time certainly did tell. My bill came to over £117 which included service (but not an additional tip) and that bought me 90 minutes of service. For that sort of money I expect not to be in a nervous state related to having to eat and drink up before I might be ejected (clearly the staff were far too polite to do that but who knows what will happen when one is sitting there hoping to relax over an expensively decent meal?
Raring;-🌛🌛.
10 December 2025.
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