361. Spain In Bristol - Gambas and Bravas.

 

  I am invited to an acquaintance’s birthday meal annually in a rather cheerless commuter town near Bristol and it’s difficult to find somewhere reasonably priced in the area where one can stay with one’s dog. Hence I usually stay in an overpriced moderately mediocre gaff belonging to a continental chain (which promises more than it delivers) near Temple Meads and which reflects closely the decline of England’s hospitality industry as the number of little pleasures, comforts and services the hotel supplies to its guests are gradually taken away from the guests (do they think we don’t notice?) while the room rate increases rapidly. But enough of that. 

  There are a number of recommendable places at which to eat Sunday lunch in Bristol but on my annual November visits over the last couple of years I have eaten at Gambas in Cargo 2 in Wapping Wharf and a very pleasing Sunday lunch I have eaten there on both occasions. So, though I was tempted to branch out and do something different this year, I once more made a reservation for lunch at Gambas, the restaurant being within a Sunday afternoon relaxed pace walking distance from my hotel and the weather being what it is in this late autumn and doing its best to dissuade one from travelling very far to other parts of the city. The was a strong wind and frequent outbursts of charmless drizzle.

  And so, though it may be repetitive, here is another report of Sunday lunch at Wapping Wharf. The interior of Gambas, warm, atmospheric and inviting, looking particularly attractive as one enters it, with  the wind howling outside and the rain lashing Cargo 2, a conglomoration of independent businesses all located in a large two storey building constructed from containers. The lighting is just right, the warmth (including that of the welcome) is just right,and the diners are just rightand give the restaurant its identity. 

  There’s a very self-aware, flamboyant middle-aged couple, self-consciously Bohemian in appearance, both wearing fancy hats (the man determinedly ignoring ancient etiquette that men do not wear their hats at the dining table, though, I suppose, he might just have been hiding his baldness); a man in his thirties eating a bavette steak, cutting off pieces for his small daughter who was sitting by him at the counter and dressed in a pretty floral frock; a good-looking, well-healed couple in their early thirties, looking to me like a pair of young doctors on a first date, he, neatly bearded and trendily bespectacled, talking too much and she, at times, looking bemused (I considered whispering to him that he was trying too hard); everyone there well off and living the Bristol life. Through the widow, a replica of Cabot’s ship, the Matthew, could be spotted through the crepuscular mirk of the afternoon, Atmosphere. Atmosphere. Atmosphere. If I were a painter I would have run riot recording on canvass this scene with its interesting characters and I would have felt like Toulouse Lautrec at the Folies Bergère.

  There was a regular menu and a special menu made up of small plates as on previous visits; some of the items on the latter were not available, I was, I suppose, having a rather late lunch. I could not resist the salt cod croqueta which was cooked to be enticingly crispy with a nice creamy, subtly flavoured interior. The patatas bravas were, it’s true, a little less bravas than I would have liked but they were generously portioned and went well with the tender, tasty, accurately cooked 84 day aged Belmont Estate beef picanha which was aptly matched with a smooth celeriac purée and a jus which I might have liked to have had just a little more of.

   Gambas is the sister restaurant to the equally excellent Bravas in Clifton, a stone’s throw away from Clifton’s railway station and nestled comfortably in the heart of this profoundly middle class hipster community. Clifton is an upmarket version of Moseley or Kings Heath and where Stirchley or Harborne may strive to radiate shabby chicness, Clifton is head and shoulders above them both in the obvious wealth of the locals and their success in recreating an English Bohemia for the 2020s. It is clearly a socialist population living very comfortably under the Conservative government which they would no doubt be the first to complain about. 

  I lunched at Bravas in early August on a warm and bright sunny day which added to the pleasure of it all. Given the choice of eating outside or in the interior dining area I chose the latter but was sat at the window looking out so it seemed that I got the best of both worlds. I was able to sit watching what the locals were up to - though this was midweek there appeared to be so many young people lounging about, doing nothing useful apart from immersing themselves in whatever was appearing on their mobile telephone screens. Why on earth were these people not at work?

  I turned my attention away from the uselessness of youth and concentrated on the menu which had many of the same dishes as Gambas, the meals were being  as small plates, to be delivered to the table as and when they were available. In view of the heat of the day, a cold Gazpacho-like soup proved to be appropriate and was served with a remarkably generously sized piece of tuna and an egg. This was excellent and if it wasn’t authentically Spanish then it should have been. This was looking very promising. 

  I inevitably opted for patatas bravas which were very good, crispy and nicely salted and served separately from the spicy sauce. Salt-grilled wild red prawns were very well cooked with garlic and chilli and the croquetas I ordered were crispy and very tasty. Best of all, and a contender for my dish of the year,  was the fabulous, quite superb presa a la plancha, delicious beyond imagination Iberico pork with charred rosemary. A very fine dish.

  The denizens of Bristol are very fortunate in having Bravas and Gambas on their doorstep. We have Purnell’s Plates which I have seen described as serving authentic Spanish dishes but to be honest, and it pains me to write it, the restaurant really does have some way to go before matching the Bristol duo.

Rating:- 🌝🌝

278. Gambas, Bristol.

 

  Bristol feels like a smug city. Perhaps it has every right to be. The city centre is full of hipsters and students and very few people who look like working people. There are hundreds of electric scooters shooting inanely all over the place - on pavements, on the roads, frequently very fast and nerve-wrackingly dangerous to an old bloke and an old Labrador. The scooters are driven almost entirely by young men in the 20 to 25 age group who are just the group who can most easily walk anywhere and are least in need of some form of subsidised electric transportation. The dog did come close to being mowed down by a dowdy middle-aged hipstress who, entitled and privileged, barely noticed the distress she caused to an ancient and well beloved canine.

 Still, Bristol is an attractive city despite its residents, and from time to time the dog and I enjoy a visit there and we do sympathise with its justified smugness at least as regards its scattering of good places to eat. Michelin lists 17 restaurants in its Guide (including two one-starred and two Bibs Gourmands - Birmingham has only 15 listed restaurants though five are starred). I felt a great urge to revisit the excellent container-housed Spanish restaurant at Wapping Wharf, Gambas, Michelin-listed but not so far on the list of restaurants recommended by The Good Food Guide (the error is on the part of The Good Food Guide in this case). True, The Michelin Guide is rather over-enthusiastic about the view from the site where Gambas is located, “Set in a lovely first floor location in the bustling Wapping Wharf, Gambas comes with a terrace on two sides and lovely river views”. 

  This takes poetic license too far though I accept that beauty does indeed lie in the eye of the beholder. Use of the word “lovely” to describe the row of container-housed dining establishments is inappropriate, though what represents good taste in the field of architecture is always open to debate and the view does indeed give a river view though again the use of the word “lovely” is highly contestable - the observer looks across at a vast building, presumably constructed in the 1930s, which recalls the monstrous architectural style of Nazi Germany and in the foreground everything is a little too ramshackle to contribute any degree of loveliness. Still, those who run Gambas can hardly be blamed for misdescriptions by Michelin inspectors.

  The restaurant was certainly “bustling”, comfortably intimate rather than overcrowded. The welcome is pleasing and enthusiastic and a jug of water is soon delivered to the table along with the exciting menus. The service is delightfully solicitous and the diner can not help but feel comfortable and relaxed in this busy little dining space. There is a good choice of dishes - small dishes in the main to be served as tapas - and any problem with understanding the Spanish names used on the menu are soon dealt with charmingly.

  I started off with a local Psychopomp gin and tonic and ordered Gambas pil pil along with hake served with sweet little peppers and, inevitably, Patatas bravas. The three large prawns prepared with garlic and chilli were delicious, the enticing look of them was more than matched by the flavour of the dish, the crustaceans being perfectly cooked. The sauce had to be mopped up by the bread that had been delivered to the table. The hake again was cooked perfectly with a fine crispy skin and melting white flesh. The sweet peppers were a joy and the remains of the bread were once more put to good use to ensure none of the joyous sauce was wasted.

  Then to the dessert. This was the most exquisite crema Catalana I have ever had. Presented aflame and embraced in the gentle flavour of orange, such pleasures should not be available as earthly ones only as the rewards of an entry to Paradise. But fortunately for this sinner, this crema Catalana was indeed an earthly pleasure and memory will not let it fade.

  The meal was accompanied by a fairly priced and enjoyable house white and a fine and filling meal had been consumed with much attendant happiness. No future trip to Bristol will be worth making without a trip to Gambas. 

  One little post-prandial pleasure was a visit to a nearby independent book shop. It had a good selection of books on the subject of food though the turn-off was the profusion of -ism books embracing every fashionable left-wing and grandly high-moralled trend known to post-2000 England. But the title of the food section raised a smile - not ‘Food’ as one would find in any normal bookshop in any normal English City but ‘Sustenance’, as pretentiously hipster as one might expect to find only in Bristol (and Oxford I expect). But, as I say, it raised a smile. And if a bookshop ever opens in Stirchley, I shall not hesitate to recommend that the owner places a ‘Sustenance’ label at the top of his Food section.

189. Lunar Society Meets Niall Keating, Fine Dining Soon In Stoke On Trent.

 

Meeting of The Lunar Society at Heathfield, home of James Watt

  Reports in The Caterer as well as in the local press in North Staffordshire inform us that Stoke On Trent is soon to have a fine dining establishment to be overseen by Niall Keating, Head Chef at the two Michelin-starred Whateley Manor in Wiltshire and former winner of The Great British Menu Central region heats. Keating, brought up in Stoke, is partnering with The Great British Experience events company to establish the new restaurant at the World of Wedgwood visitor attraction at Barlaston near Stoke and the restaurant will be named Lunar to recall the 18th century Birmingham-based Lunar Society (named because it always met on a full moon) of which the Stoke potter, Josiah Wedgwood was a member. The Lunar Society was a supper club for the Midlands enlightenment movement and included scientists, inventors and businessmen such as Wedgwood.

  The new 120 cover restaurant kitchen will be run by Head Chef Craig Lunn who worked as sous chef under Keating at Whateley Manor and also as chef de partie at Restaurant Gordon Ramsay. The restaurant is due to open on 26 November.

  Stoke On Trent has not previously been known to be a place of gastronomic excellence. It does not get a mention in the 2021 Michelin Guide. Perhaps it is just about to benefit from a bit of gastronomic ‘levelling up’ and some Lunar Club-style enlightenment (of the gastronomic kind).

Niall Keating and Craig Lunn

  Bristol, it has to be said, is not in the West Midlands. It sits at the tail end of Gloucestershire but, while the regional status of most of Gloucestershire county is a matter of debate  - a Midlands county? a West Country county? (look at the map, it’s definitely in the middle) - Bristol has had its own county created for it to make its region indisputable - South Gloucestershire which is decidedly in the West Country. But it is only just across the border in its mini-county and I am there from time to time so I am not too unhappy about recording a visit to one of its respected restaurants.

  Bristol is a fine city though swamped now with a middle class, socialist elite since the Blairs saw a money-making opportunity in buying property there, that makes it like a vastly larger version of Moseley though in no way as ugly as that Birmingham suburb and of course it is not only a handsome city but it has the quay areas and the river which add to the city’s draw. Unfortunately since my last visit before the first lockdown, the self-regarding middle class denizens have gone mad and there is a great risk of being run over by dim-looking youths on electric scooters and green middle-aged people pedalling away on their bicycles and cars have been expelled to make way for this even more dangerous form of traffic shooting along the pavements. A warning as to what Birmingham will be like in the near future as the environmental fascists establish their new republic of bullying and sneering. Of course these well-heeled inhabitants can afford to eat in style once they’ve pedalled their way around the streets doing their best to kill old blokes with their ageing labradors visiting the city and so the city now has an array of Michelin-listed, -plated and -starred dining establishments.

  Not far from my hotel, on the waterfront, looking across the river at a vast, monstrous Art Deco building that looks like Mussolini put it up, on the upper floor of a collection of shops, cafes and restaurants housed by no means inaptly in shipping containers,  one finds the Michelin-listed Gambas which the Inspector’s report sums up as, “Set in a lovely first floor location in the bustling Wapping Wharf, Gambas comes with a terrace on two sides and lovely river views. The concise menu of small plates showcases great quality produce and has a seafood slant; dishes arrive as they are ready from an open kitchen”. Well, as I say, “lovely river views” is slightly debatable but being English the precise nature of the view does not really matter as we all like to sit by water, don’t we? and will do so in any weather come rain or shine.

“Lovely river views” (Michelin inspector)

  

  The welcome to the internally rustic-looking restaurant was warm and service was relaxed, informative and pleasing. I chose four dishes from the regular menu and the menu of today’s specials. From the former I picked the pan con alioli which was excellent with the bread being as delicious as any I had had in restaurants with greater pretensions - finely judged saltiness and excellent flavour - and precisely judged alioli with robust amounts of garlic but no bolder than than it should have been. Then came the absolutely delightful tortita de camerones - two delicate, thin and golden, extravagantly crispy, deep-fried sheets speckled with shockingly tasty, sweet little prawns. It was a great pleasure just to sit and admire their visual beauty, look at them so delicate, before purring with the happiness of tasting their flavour and experiencing their texture. I would go back to Gambas just for the pleasure of reliving the tortitas.

  The next arrival at my table were some supremely excellent patatas bravas with great swirls of even more alioli and then, from the specials menu, a perfectly cooked (and sized) meaty piece of glimmering hake with mojo verde and the sweetest and happiest little piquillo peppers. This was a very fine and enjoyable meal crowned with an excellent crema Catalan. The chefs in this kitchen really know their stuff. Fine but comforting, the Michelin inspector was right on this one.

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