G'day

A friend of mine, previously known to these pages as Richard O’Brien, emigrated to Australia last year and recently came back for a triumphal visit.  Understandably sick of ricotta, sunshine, avocadoes and optimism, what he really wanted was dark ale, carbohydrates, sarcasm and scotch eggs.  Luckily, all of these things can be found in abundance in South West London’s many pubs, so over the two weeks he was back, we did a mini tour of them.

We started with the old Parsons Green favourite, the White Horse: time and space vortex of a million lunches that have inexplicably turned into evenings.  Unfortunately, having gathered 20 of his nearest and dearest to the pub for a long afternoon lunch and drinking session, it appeared that the place was having an off day. It pains me to say it, but the food was average (scotch egg excluded) and the service was slow.  There was a beer festival on (isn’t there always) but they weren’t allowing people to taste any of the ales before buying; surely more crucial than ever when many of the range will be unfamiliar, and I’m sure the pub used to allow you to do this.  Being Australian now, instead of saying everything was fine, thank you very much, and shuffling off to complain about ‘the time the Horse was bad’ whenever someone mentions going there, Richard wrote an email letting them know it had been slightly disappointing. So casual, so grown up, so New World. I don’t know if they responded but I hope it was just a bad day.

A few days later, my suspicions that Richard had changed were confirmed as we sat in the Harwood Arms. They bought out a canvas basket of hot, freshly baked soda bread and he asked me if anybody was on Paleo here. I assume most of you know what that is but, in case you live under a stone (IRONIC), it’s basically eating like a caveman.  I believe this to be slightly spurious as cavemen didn’t live very long, weren’t very clever and I’m sure would have loved someone to show them how to make bread. They were probably thin though (yes, I’m being facetious; please don’t write in). Anyway, proteins and veg and nuts and grains like spelt or keeeeeen-waaaaa or however you’re meant to pronounce it. Very good for you, but please eat the soda bread, it’s delicious.

The Harwood has always been a really exciting thing to have in Fulham and remains so on my third visit. Richard is a demon for a scotch egg but managed to restrain himself and went for the milder ‘crispy hen’s egg’ starter.  I had cod cheeks with crab and asparagus, which made me wish bitterly for a spot of sunshine and a seaside holiday in Cornwall (not that I’ve ever been on one of those).  I chose the wine, which Richard didn’t like, but I described it is as ‘flinty’ and pretended it was meant to taste like unripe gooseberries, so there wasn’t much he could say. This is in no way a reflection of the Harwood’s wine list; as mentioned before my wine expertise is still a work in progress.

Main courses were rolled pork belly and cheek, which was a big hit, and my brill with smoked cauliflower, which I absolutely loved. Richard said it tasted like being kissed by a Dick Van Dyke chimney sweep from Mary Poppins; a trauma memory so startlingly specific that I could only sit in silence and eat more bread as the bill came.

Last in our round up of Nice Pubs ™ was the Pigs Ear, where we went for Richard’s last evening out before he headed back to his horrible life of sunshine, holidays, recognition in the workplace and cool new friends.

The Pigs Ear is a lovely, traditional pub in Chelsea with a small menu, so between the 6 of us we pretty much tried everything they had on that evening.  There was a slight altercation as some members of the group, including a Psychiatrist, attempted to order the wine based purely on the fact its name was ‘Boom Boom’, but other than that the evening progressed smoothly. Richard had his customary scotch egg, as did a few others, and then there was a lobster bisque and a goats cheese crème brulée that, weirdly, tasted very much as it sounds except not hot. I had thought it would be hot. Main courses were particularly good, with steak tartare, braised pig cheeks, moules marinières and a gigantic côte de boeuf for two all great examples of what is fantastic about the admittedly long overhyped and overused ‘gastropub’ appellation that, when done properly, just means you can catch up with your friends in a relaxed, pub environment whilst eating food that would normally require a separate reservation.  What’s not to love?

 

Sydney Style

The Pigs Ear

35 Old Church Street
SW3 5BS
020 7352 2908

The Harwood Arms

Walham Grove SW6 1QP 020 7386 1847