Taste: The Rythre Arms

In the middle of Yorkshire lurks a little pub serving generous cuts of prime beef. The Rythre Arms could be any country village free-house; kegs for tables, horse shoes on the wall and an open fire in the corner. However, as the county's foodies arrive, the locals are swept aside and everyone's chatter turns to the Rythre Monster, a 78oz main attraction.

For 20 years the Linleys have been serving the same menu. Below the headline T-Bones are a selection of rumps, sirloins and fillets served in Maid Marrion or Friar Tuck slabs from £14 to £32 (£44 for the monster). All ours were as described and to specification, medium-rare, naturally. Nobody this evening went for the Monster, A 78oz oz steak is the size of a laptop. It would've been nice to see the cuts beforehand, if only to gawk at them.

I went for the otherwise massive 'Giant T-Bone'. 42oz of phenomenal meat; An even cut of marbled sirloin on one side, tender fillet on the other and both in endless supply. I paused only once to try the potatoes, carrots and onion rings dotted around the table garnish and immediately returned to the meat - clearly no need to deviate and quality wise - best left along.

There are a couple of non-beef options on the menu although I can't vouch for them. A popular order is the quirky named carpetbagger (£30); a fillet stuffed with tiger prawns or king scallops and smothered in a rich tomato and tarragon sauce. A little rich maybe, perhaps go for the £9 surf-n-turf seafood enhancement to any steak if you're into that kind of thing.

Owner and master butcher Eric Linley clearly needs no approval and word of mouth has people driving across two counties for a place at one of the two nightly sittings. Our two hour round trip featured my apprehensive stomach grumbling all the way there and on cloud 9 for the return in a way that only the best T-Bone I've ever had can accomplish.

The Rythre Arms

Main St

Ryther, Tadcaster,

North Yorkshire,

LS24 9EE (map)

www.rythrearms.co.uk

Taste: The Scolt Head Review

It had to happen - all across London common boozers are scrubbing up the floorboards, pulling down the TVs and ordering a crate of duralex. Whilst not a new prospect the last couple years have seen a surge in the gentrified Gastropub and everybody wants a piece of the gourmet pie.

Fortunately, Dalston's Scolt Head has not followed the "get gastro in 21 days" guide and with expertise from the Fox and Great Queen Street has recently re-opened under new management. Almost stranded between Islington and London Fields it’s a solid neighborhood building - fronted by a large bar, trademark low lighting, plenty of exposed wood and an intriguing collection of heat & pressure dials. The "library" of Penguin books is really just a row above the fireplace but add a point for effort.

All the real regulars have been shuffled away into a large romper-room to the back left of the bar. With a stage for live music, pool, darts, boxed games and a giant screen they don’t seem to mind and it’s soon busy. Smartly zoned to the right is an exemplary rustic dining area. Bread is served with balsamic, salt’s in an open dish and the menu printed on A4 with a handful of choices. All good so far.

We went for a chorizo salad - the best I’ve had since the sandwiches in Borough Market; hearty, creamy meal-in-a-bowl of onion soup and a plate of huge razor clams in a garlic and herb dressing. All three (of the four to choose from) were incredible. To follow we all opted for Boeuf Bourguignon on mash, a sultry rich stew with a slightly overwhelming cameo of smoked bacon barging in on the senses. Shame.

That must be a one off – the starters we’re too far into the atmosphere to pull the parachute. Halfway through not just a Lemon Posset but a Scolt Head Lemon Posset and all is forgiven.

The Scolt head might as well be on it’s Norfolk Coast namesake as far as the magnetic field around zone one is concerned. That just means that for people like me who live a brisk walk away there’ll be a table on Friday without having to book ahead, a pint on the bar within 10 seconds and a selection of honest, well cooked food – all for the price of supper in a good pub... as it should be.

The Scolt Head
107a Culford Rd
N1 4HT (map)
Dalston
020 7254 3965

http://www.thescolthead.co.uk

Taste: The Easton

Exmouth Market is an easily overlooked destination visited mostly by people who haven't succumbed to the Angel and Old Street heavyweights, both a respective spit and stone's throw away. Nestled against the Rosebery rat-race highway there's something delicate and appealing about the short leafy lane of one-off shops and bar/restaurants, especially on a rainy evening when the fairy lights beacon safe refuge.

The more local types might even venture a little deeper into the undergrowth, and cautios of the brutish Mount Pleasant lurking nearby slip north up to The Easton, one of the earlier Pubs in London to assume Gastropub status. In established tradition the furniture is rustic, ambiance upbeat and menu simply stated on a chalkboard above the long bar.

I've lunched here a number of times - including an unforgettable beef Sunday roast of Friar Tuck proportions. Each of the three veg and two potatoes ensembling in a way only mothers can otherwise achieve. Today we went for honey glazed Pork chop with Patatas Bravas - the glaze complemented one of the most succulent chops I've ever tasted (the potatoes were okay but I'd have preferred crisper roasts); Pumpkin Pie, visually impressive and an epicurean delight for the pumpkin-lover; and a hearty seafood risotto cooked on the good side of perfect.

I've only been here during the day and cannot vouch for either side of the "get out we're closing" debate in current circulation. To me the Easton is one of a handful gastro-staples, delivering the goods every time.

The Easton
22 Easton Street,
London,
WC1X 0DS
020 7278 7609

Taste: Brunch at Smiths of Smithfield

On the weekend virtually all of London between Farringdon and Liverpool Street resuscitates after a hard week playing around with truckloads of cash. There's a strange emptiness even around residential areas, Barbican and Smithfields both void of excitement.

Smiths of Smithfield on a weekend morning is a relative hive of activity - full of screaming kids, hungover young professionals and disillusioned tourists happy to see somewhere lively. It's the wrong kind of lively though, like a mash up of evening bar and breakfast spot (which it effectively is). The aforementioned people are all over the place, sat around awkwardly round tables which don't lend a hand to the hectic visuals, being tended by what feels like a hundred wait staff.

Our waitress was slightly too busy to actually take our order and when we waivered on which smoothie dashed off unnannounced. We ordered a medium Smith's breakfast (handily numbered from 1-something in order of size) The sausage, bacon beans etc were of okay quality and quantity although nothing special. Totally un-special however were the poached eggs - which had been hard boiled. The reply from the waitress was farcical "you asked for poached eggs and they are poached eggs" but before I had chance to impart a piece of my mind she was gone again - returning a few minutes later with a couple of correctly cooked eggs.

Smiths has it all as an uber-popular evening bar and restaurant but this doesn't translate into a breakfast location. I prefer some peace with my eggs and paper.

Smiths of Smithfield
67-77 Charterhouse Street
EC1M 6HJ
Farringdon
020 7251 7950

Taste: Great Queen Street

Unbranded, unfussy, uncomplicated – Great Queen Street is the thoroughbred Gastropub on the far side of Covent Garden. Of Arabian proportions, Great Queen Street has been studded by the Anchor and Hope and let run with staff from the Easton and St John.

Between undecorated blood red walls diners sit at rustic tables, on simple chairs with standard, uniform tableware. Towards the back of the room a long bar fronts onto the kitchen where I can only imagine chefs are preparing food with one of five utensils and serving into one of three bowl types.

I'm not sure what the textbook Gastropub description is. For sure the Wikipedia page must include Great Queen Street. Menus are presented on a single sheet of A4 with 15 choices arranged by price. Paralleled with the surrounding simplicity they're all directly stated traditional English; game terrine, steak pie (for two, £30), rabbit stew… etc. We opt for a meat double bill with steak tartae to start and lamb shoulder as a main. Our waiter suggests that there are three surplus shanks in the kitchen available as a one-off for only a few pounds more (£28). We nod emphatically. Actually, I can recall a couple of times before when this has similarly happened in the Anchor – an effective marketing strategy.

The tartae was moderate (bland – go for the terrine instead) but the shanks divine. The meat was not just falling off the bone but diving off into the pool of superb, rich oily soup waiting for a knob of bread to soak it up. Served with a healthy bowl of potato gratin this was far more than enough for two and we had to call in for air support before ordering desert. The caramel crème is unmissable.

I heard earlier that in the UK we spend £8b/year in 27,000 restaurants. Good hearty English fayre has to be the most rewarding and patriotic spending of those pennies although I'm torn. I'm sure mothers around the country can do better - mine certainly can.

Great Queen Street is a welcome addition to the gastro-offering around London. It represents all the good things about English pub food with all the bad things taken out and intentionally un-replaced. There’s a premium to pay and one must wonder why… but not for long before returning for more.

32 Great Queen St
WC2B 5AA
Covent Garden
020 7242 0622

Taste: Bistrotheque

Down an unassuming street in an inconspicuous part of East London Bistrotechque is apparent only in the evening by a dropping-off line of taxis. It feels out of place surrounded by a commercial estate, but that's surely why we're here - and it draws the crowds.

The building is split into three; bar, restaurant and venue (transvestite cabaret anyone?). Pre-dinner drink in the bar revealed a sticky-local, except its an Ikea bar put in a warehouse. The standard visitors look like they've walked straight out of a Brit-pop convention. Friendly enough.

Up the stairs to the restaurant. Whitewash walls and scale-model of the area, you're expecting a temporary art installation. Not far from the truth, it's like a temporary restaurant exhibition. Two big open spaces split by a stainless steel kitchen, bare bulbs, white tiled walls and no decoration beyond silver cutlery. It must cost all of a fiver to clean in the evening.

Every expense is spared, even the menu is printed on the place-mat and is about as complex as spot-the-dog. The options are simply put and easy on the vocabulary, you won't be asking much from the waiter: Fish and Chips, Pea Puree, Tartare Sauce is top of the list.

We went for seabass and monkfish all prepared and presented well but nothing outstanding at this price. The focus again, is on simplicity and they've got it right, however at this level its something that could be done at home with some effort and a tidy house.

Bistrotheque
23-27 Wadeson Street
London
E2 9DR (map)
+44 (0)20 8983 7900
http://www.bistrotheque.com/

Taste: Kettners

Down at the deep end of Soho on Romilly Street, Kettners (http://www.kettners.com) promises to be a standard paint-by-numbers hotel lounge. Lurking behind a huge leather clad waiting area/bar is a bright, well dressed restaurant who's view is spoiled only by those buildings across the road turning their backs in favour of Shaftsbury Avenue.

Lunch menu is of a good size, skewed heavily towards pizzas and burgers, the former helping this place stand out amongst the paint-by-numbers crowd found elsewhere in town, supposedly renowned for use of quality Angus. I had a suitably named, but forgotten, variation with pate (and a sprig of bacon) which was undoubtedly the heaviest (physically) burger I've ever held. It seemed expensive when staring back at me from an otherwise empty plate but worth every penny on the way in.

As one-thirty approached the place livened up and a pianist slid in to accompany the chatter. The lounge on the way out full of single well-dressed diners was a strangely pleasurable sight.

Kettners
29 Romilly Street
Soho, London
W1D 5HP (map)
+44 (0)20 7734 6112
http://www.kettners.com/