Goldstone Food at The Curfew, Bath

It’s 7.30pm on a gloomy Thursday evening and the long-established pub on the London Road/Bathwick Street junction is buzzing in the way that proper pubs used to buzz before the high street casual dining emporiums started filling sprawling, vacant spaces with fake stag head wall mounts, mass-produced velvet wing chairs, phoney vintage beer ads and massive menus that positively scream ‘centralised kitchen’.

Ah, there be none of that going on at The Curfew. Instead, it’s cosy, and polished, and friendly; there’s a happy dog under the table next to ours, and lots of happy people happily chatting to each other in the way that people used to chat to each other before phones dominated all social gatherings. Meanwhile, in the kitchen…

Liam Goldstone is a very confident chef.

I’d know this even if I didn’t follow him and his gorgeous food stories on Insta, or before I found out that he’s the chef behind the hottest monthly Supper Club menus in Bath right now, or before I knew his pedigree (he’s got quite the back story). I know Liam is a confident chef because his menu tells me that he is. Refreshingly free of the dreaded ‘small plates’ diktat, or somebody telling you how your order will arrive without asking you how you’d like it to arrive, or sky-high prices, it’s a fuss-free, all-bases-covered, promising paean to honest good taste. It may not be what you’d expect to find on a neighbourhood pub menu but, in this food-forward day and age, you lived in hope that you might one day encounter – and that ‘one day’ is right now. 

A fish finger butty. Sardines on toast. A pork and black pudding sausage roll; fried egg-topped Bubble and Squeak; sausage and mash. There’s a promising plate of Merguez sausages with salady bits here, a fish dish and slow-braised beef shin there, and Croissant Bread and Butter Pudding (or a wedge of Bath Blue with Branston Pickle) down at the bottom – and that’s it. But if you read between the lines, it really is more than enough – especially if, like us, you decide to taste most of it. 

Chargrilled, homemade focaccia accompanied by a cloud of whipped Marmite butter. Gleaming, super-fresh, slippy sardines resplendent on their toasty undercarriage, dotted hither and thither with pleasantly crunchy flakes of salt. That sausage roll: a sturdy, comforting, downhome indulgence, almost a meal in itself. And then…

You know when Rick Stein serves up a perfect Cornish plaice baked whole on, say, Saturday Kitchen? Well I’m going to bet five times the price of what Rick’s version would cost to enjoy at his restaurant in Padstow (and I’m guessing that’s far higher than the Goldstone/Curfew £25 price tag would be) that Liam does it better. Massive, sweet, moist and meaty, flaking off the bone at the very sight of a fork and liberally – and I mean, liberally – scattered with bright, briny capers, slathered with vibrant herb butter… and accompanied by a big bowl of cheerful chips. It could’ve easily served four; we pretty much downed it in one. 

Restoring equilibrium to our seafaring frenzy, a tightly-packed Cumberland sausage ring courtesy of Larkhall Butchers (full use of local sourcing is writ large on Liam’s little menu) on a bed of supremely silky mash that melted into a decadent, bold onion gravy: real food, elevated to a memorable, cosy season feast. 

Everything we tasted was beyond good. There were no unnecessary twists, turns or skittish, inconsequential fripperies. The execution of every element of every dish was laden with care and attention to detail. Yes, confident! But confidently restrained, too; Liam lets his food speak for itself.

He came and said hello to us after we’d eaten: he’s a lovely cheerful chef, full of friendly foodie vigour and enthusiasm. He deserves to do well.

If you too would like an up-close-and-personal encounter with Liam’s foodie vigour-laden food, he hits The Curfew hobs for lunch and dinner every Wednesday-Saturday, while his Sunday roasts have already garnered cult status around these yer parts. And if you get a ‘fastest finger first’ spurt on, you must – and I mean, must – book for one of his monthly Dinner With Goldstone supper club events that are setting tasteful tongues wagging across Bath for very good reason.

Personally, I’m going back to The Curfew one evening this week with my sights set simply on a pudding and a plate of cheese (oh okay, I might slide a Bubble and Squeak in beforehand) because – well, partly because I can, but mostly because I have to. And honestly, you have to too.