Towards the end of last year, I reviewed Colonnade: the sparkly, spacious all-day brasserie that compliments the vibrant live music hub that is the Bristol Beacon.
Within that review you’ll find the whole kit and kaboodle background of a restaurant I firmly believe should dominate the Best in Bristol charts for multiple reasons from history (there’s definitely lots of history here) and vibe (there’s certainly lots of vibe) to, of course, Executive Head Chef Noah Chasteau and Head Chef Darlene’s glorious food (inspired; innovative; self-assured).
I urge you to read my original review before you read on here; after all, what’s an update without all the necessary context including why the recent Sparks gig at the Beacon was an anniversary of sorts for my partner and I? But if you’re only and solely here for the food, here we go:
Colonnade is, ostensibly, a small plate, mix’n’match affair. Unlike many similarly-styled menus, however, I reckon you could stick a pin in the array (circa 14 on the new summer menu array, not including nibbles) and none of the dishes would clash.
Sipping fizz while perusing that menu at our centre-stage table surrounded by Bristol’s history both ancient (well, Victorian) and modern and offering direct views into Noah’s open kitchen, I honestly could have opted for any and all of the entire assemblage.
Goat’s Cheese Mousse? Bring it on! Fried brioche with pea, dill, anchovy, chilli crisp, lemon and ginger; confit cherry tomatoes with hung yoghurt and balsamic; pappardelle with nori butter and bottarga? Oh, please, yes (especially the bottarga, which I’ve never come across before and now, having Googled what it is, wouldn’t mind shacking up with). Eventually, however, we took the seemingly more grounded Sparks’ brother’s reserved but astutely idiosyncratic approach to our selection, confident in the knowledge that lashings of charismatic, witty flamboyance would come as standard in whichever dishes we ordered.
It has to be said that lamb belly has a bad reputation for what I believe to be very good reason; to say it can be fatty is an understatement, and to use it wisely takes more skill than most home cooks can only dream of. Noah and Darlene turn those dreams into reality with his slow cooked, pressed lamb belly dish, opulently rich and almost ridiculously tender with (to my mind, at least) a much bolder, more satisfying flavour profile than pork belly, offset here with an earthy carrot and ginger purée and a vibrant salsa verde; please, I urge you, go there. And if you can take two robustly carnivorous plates in one sitting, do the Beef Shin Croquettes too, if only for the complex fruity/earthy Birria Dipping Sauce that accompanies the chubby little morsels of beefy delight.
A dish of creamy polenta, smoky chorizo, playful sweetcorn salsa and buttery/nutty manchego teased and nudged the sight/smell/taste triumvirate in ongoing waves from start to finish. Several gleaming bullions of cured trout came with a sparklingly fresh cucumber gazpacho, nudges of pickled (I think?) ginger, lashings of lime (if lime isn’t ginger’s best friend, I don’t know what is) and elegant dollops of sweetly briny trout roe that bought yet more flavour-pop to the party and looked like the kind of golden-orange pearls that Grace Dent wears when she means business. We had focaccia too: four huge slices of airy, salty, crusty heaven.
But potatoes, cabbage – when and how do they fit into a menu like this? As I said in my first Colonnade review, “Chasteau’s chips are definitely not just chips, and his cabbage isn’t just cabbage either” (oh please read that review; I put my heart and soul into the potato/cabbage section alone).
For summer 2026, Head Chef Darlene has blessed those divine, super-crispy, outrageously buttery Pommes Anna chips with a luxuriously smooth, deeply umami parmesan custard partnership that could, in less capable hands, detract from the presence of truffle but instead encourages it – clever indeed. Her griddled hispi cabbage, meanwhile, arrived resplendent on a pool of mellow leek cream that contrasted beautifully with an uber-piquant walnut ketchup (think, barbecue sauce without the cloying sweetness), puddles of charred leek ash oil dotted hither and thither around the plate taking the dish to the edge of a campfire supper.
But so it came to pass that eventually, we had to relinquish our Colonnade table, finish our spectacular wine (a Fabula de Paniza Cariñena Tinto, if you’re interested, which turned out to be the house wine, so you should be), say goodbye to the genuinely utterly lovely Front of House team and beat the clock to our seats in time for the Mael brothers to take their turn in the spotlight.
Sparks were good; they were great, in fact – even better than I remembered them to be 20 years ago. But for me, there was only one partnership headline act at the Bristol Beacon that night: Noah and Darlene, this town ain’t big enough for your talents.
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