Thailand Wok, Moorland Road, Bath

Thai food is pretty much my comfort zone go-to on any occasion; in my world, too much Panang Curry is never enough. It’s just as well, then, that we have multiple Thai restaurants on our Bath doorstep, from the casual to the old-school spectacular with way too many ho-hum takeaway options in between. 

And now, as of just a handful of weeks ago, Thailand Wok has bought a taste of Thailand to Moorland Road, a high street neighbourhood that, despite all manner of ongoing struggles to contend with (traffic regulation/parking zone controversies; dodgy bus timetables; chain invasion attempts; etc) continues to thrive and boldly fly the flag for independent businesses and traditional high street charms… and this sparkly little Thai diner is a perfect, effortless fit.

Thailand Wok is small (around, say, 24-26 covers max?) but perfectly formed, featuring an open kitchen to the rear of the restaurant and offering a lively, casual, effortlessly welcoming vibe throughout. And gosh, it’s busy! Fortunately we booked our Thursday evening table for five a couple of days in advance; if we hadn’t, I think a takeaway might have been our only option. 

Options weren’t limited, however, when it came to the menu. From starter classics (spring rolls; satay; soups; fishcakes; salads and a Curry Puff that I vow to return for) to old friends on a Thai curry theme with plenty of Phads, Krapows and Khings all present and correct, there’s a lot going on here. Prices are clear-cut: most dishes are available in chicken/beef/prawn/vegetarian/vegan format, accompanied by jasmine rice or chips for an extra £2. 

At first glance, however, the Chef’s Specials are surprisingly priced for a small neighbourhood diner, with seabass, tiger prawn and/or ribeye steak superstars fluctuating around the £25-£29 mark. But then again, they hold the promise of being Very Special Dishes indeed and, having sampled a broad selection of the ‘day to day’ array (averaging at around £15), I’d definitely risk pushing the boat out for, say, the Soy Glazed Tiger Prawns (“sweetness and char”? Yes please!). But if you’re simply in the mood for a satisfying supper and a couple of beers without blowing the eating out budget, there are no risks at stake here.

Chicken Satay Skewers; Fried Oyster Mushrooms; various soups on the Tom Yum/Tom Kha theme. A Beef Panang here (of course), a King Prawn Priew Wan next to me, a Chicken Phad Krapow over there and a vegan Pad Thai/vegan Green Curry keeping the righteous brothers at the end of our table happy. Jasmine rice all round, and too many bowls of chips: a fully-loaded table indeed. 

Of the starters, my coconut-creamy, lemongrass/lime leaf/basil-laden soup ticked all my Tom Kha boxes, while the Chicken Satay was as moist, smoky and nutty as one would hope for and the moreish, meaty Oyster Mushrooms brought a blast of ‘lesser spotted’ to the feast.

On the main course front, my Panang was a little bit too spicy for my tastes – very good (rich, creamy and fragrant) but slightly heavy-handed on the chilli front. But then again, what do I know? Maybe previous Panangs have got it wrong, and Thailand Wok are doing it right. The Chicken Prad Krapow, however, was a definite keeper: a complex, satisfying, deeply umami savoury/sweet combo that’s topping my ‘most wanted’ charts on my next visit. Elsewhere, both the vegan Pad Thai and vegan Green Curry got a big thumbs up, and the Priew Wan looked and smelt pretty darn good too; this is definitely a kitchen with character, confidence and conviction.

Overall, I really like Thailand Wok. I like its fresh, smiley countenance, its freshly-prepared, bring-a-smile-to-your-face food… and the chef who knows far more about Panang Curry than I do.

Sydney’s, Bath

The Scallop Shell (Bath, est. 2015)… or, Noah’s (Bristol since 2023)? If you have the opportunity to eat at either one of the Rosser family’s restaurants, don’t pass on it! 

Even without my bidding, it’s unlikely that you would; both of them easily top all manner of the ‘most recommended in Bath and Bristol charts’… for very good reason. And, as of July of this year, Sydney’s — right next door to The Scallop Shell, in the pub formerly known as The New Inn (now beautifully refurbished for a whole new audience) — offers further opportunities to make merry with the Rossers.

I love it that the family’s new venture is named after family head honcho Garry Rosser’s wife Lisa’s dad, aiming to honour the legacy of “a big-hearted family man who loved nothing more than bringing people together and a couple of drams of whisky before bed.” I never met Sydney, but I’d say Garry and Lisa have done him proud, offering a range of buoyant breakfasts and, later on, seasonal sharing plates complimented by a well-stocked bar served up in chic-but-cosy surroundings with a linger-long, laid back vibe… and featuring a gorgeous alfresco roof terrace that offers a fresh perspective on Bath’s ‘typical’ urban vistas.

To my mind, the The Scallop Shell transports you to a harbourside seafood diner on the Cornish coast, while Noah’s lands you at the heart of the seafaring action on the Marseille docks. Adhering to my theme, the view from Sydney’s terrace reminds me of suppers-gone-by in, say, Lucca, or Reims, or Palma: ancient stone walls laden with Gothic melodrama with a rose window and a c.18th century (I think?) Octagon in the mix; this is indeed Bath, but not as you knew it… in more ways than one. 

Prices at Sydney’s are very, erm, “un-Bath”, to say the least. Meatballs, chicken skewers and fishcakes (of which more later) are priced in single format (£2.50, £3.50 and £3 respectively), which makes a sharing feast really easy to negotiate depending on tastes while also taking good care of single diners. A bowl of chips comes in at £2 (£2!) and only the fresh fish dish on the evening we visited swam up to £9.50. Bear in mind too that whichever way your budget/tastes take you, your investment is richly rewarded with very generous portions of familiar favourites dotted hither and thither with cheffy flair: potato salad is finished off with a muscatel dressing, there’s aubergine caviar casually accompanying a roasted portobello mushroom, chickpea and sweet potato pakora comes burger-style, in a sesame bun.  

We opted for a duo of juicy meatballs stuffed with feta resting on a puddle of punchy tomato sauce, two moist chicken thigh skewers enlivened by an uplifting chimichurri, a massive tumble of whole North Atlantic prawns with a creamy/tangy cocktail sauce and a neat, meaty slab of oven-baked Silver Mullet fillet, fresh from Dorset and perfectly teamed with a super-herbacious salsa verde: heaven on four plates. But oh, the smoked salmon fishcakes! Savoury/sweet and smoky, rich and smooth, crisp then soft, served with the kind of creamy, pickle- and caper-laden tartare sauce that most kitchens can only ever aspire to. Isn’t it funny that the apparently simplest things to rustle up can so often turn out so wrong? But Sydney’s get the whole combination very, very right. 

We had chips along the way too (oh come on, this is the Rosser family in the kitchen! You’ve gotta do it, haven’t you?), and we shared a plate of Keen’s Cheddar with fennel chutney and divine little biscuits at the finale. 

The whole experience was just lovely, from vibe and decor to service and food; the Rosser family have done it again. 

Lucca, Reims or Palma? Save the air fare and land at Sydney’s.

Thai Balcony, Saw Close, Bath

My inbox is drowning under press releases, I’m negotiating my way by past new kids on the block every time I walk through town and I’m spending way too many midweek mornings recovering from the excesses of a lavish launch party the night before; after way too long languishing in the file marked “nothing much ever changes in Bath”, the restaurant/bar scene has, it seems, come back to life…and cheers to that indeed!

But as exciting as the city may suddenly be, I craved a Bath institution experience: somewhere long-standing and familiar; somewhere with history; somewhere where the patrons expect you to know what to expect.

And so it came to pass that we ended up Friday feasting in Thai Balcony, Bath’s long-established grand old dame of the city’s Thai restaurant scene which opened its doors way back in 1990 long before Saw Close was the vibrant merrymaking zone that it is today, featuring a retro-refined, retro-glamorous first floor dining room where both staff and surroundings are decorated with shimmering Far East Asian bling.

As pretty as the softly-carpeted dining room is (and it is — very), I’ve always wanted to take to a table on Thai Balcony’s actual balcony: a neat little alfresco veranda with just about space for a small collection of tables for two perched over the Sainsbury’s Local on the corner of Saw Close/Kingsmead Square. The trouble is, you can’t book one of those tables; they’re allocated on an “if you’re lucky” basis when you rock up. But luck, it seems, was on our side on the evening we visited; before we’d even had a chance to order our pre-dinner drinks, a balcony couple upped and left so we shimmied across the room and magpied into their vacated space. Hoorah! It might have taken us 35 years to get there, but at last, we’d made it. 

Okay, the view across Kingsmead Square on a busy Friday night might not be anything even close to, say, Bangkok’s Blue Sky Restaurant and Bar. But there was a soft, warm breeze rustling the branches of the big trees and the shambolic to-ings, fro-ings and skirmishes outside the pizza restaurant opposite provided a little light entertainment, UK city style… as did Thai Balcony’s extensive a la carte menu, which waltzes from the familiar (hot and sour soups; red, green and Penang curries) to specialities (Drunken Duck, anybody?) and lots and lots of seafood options. 

I’ve eaten at Thai Balcony enough to know that the blindfold/pin method of selection wouldn’t let you down here; portions may or may not be generous, but it’s mostly all about as authentic and tasty as British Thai food gets. If, however, you’re befuddled by indecision, the Set Menus are the way to go, and it’s the direction we often choose to take. This time around, we opted for Set Menu C: a heady mix of mixed starters, Tamarind Duck, Sweet and Sour Pork, King Prawn with Basil and Chicken Red Curry, which we deemed to be pretty good value for £36 per person (including unlimited rice.) 

As beautifully-presented as our starter sharing platter was, there were too many crispy brown things (the spring rolls, the Toong Tong, the prawn/pork toasts) to distinguish the selection from supermarket party freezer food territory and not enough of the moist, soft, charcoal-infused Chicken Sateh (complete with a delectable sauce) to uplift the erstwhile lacklustre array. But hey, we had one of those tables, that warm, soft breeze was rustling the trees…and our main course feast picked up any dropped beats on the food front.

Of the whole array, both the Sweet and Sour Pork (less gloopy than its Chinese counterpart, and definitely more complex in countenance) and the classic, perfectly-balanced Chicken Red Curry stood out for particular acclaim. Elsewhere, the prawns were as fresh and basil-y as one would expect from the dish descriptor and the Tamarind Duck — the tender game acting as the perfect foil for that uniquely sweet/fruity/sour tamarind tang — put a distinctly grown-up foodie spin on the whole selection. Heck, even the rice was lovely; what on earth does the Thai Balcony kitchen do to steamed jasmine rice to make it so good it deserves a ‘lovely’?

And overall, Thai Balcony itself is indeed rather lovely: a Bath institution, long-standing and familiar, with history… and offering tables for two above the Sainsbury’s Local, if you’re lucky.

Why not…?

I opened the doors to The Prandial Playground on February 2 2023. 

“This is still very much a work in progress,” I wrote, in my very first post; “but here I am, in my ramshackle, unpolished state”.

While ‘ramshackle and unpolished’ could be my middle names and I still firmly uphold the opinion that diamonds in the rough have much more value than even the most highly-polished fakes, The Prandial Playground has slowly but surely gathered traction over the past coupla years.

Okay, so it’s not one of those whizzy-bang-bang sites with banner ads, curated reels, ‘sponsored’ content and shout-outs for ‘cool collabs’ — and neither will it ever be. But in its own culty little Betamax way it’s working well, with my restaurant reviews attracting an average of 840+ views on publication and most visitors lingering long to browse my back catalogue too. 

It was — and still very much is — my aim to use The Prandial Playground to promote all that’s good about Bath’s independent food scene at a time when our hospitality industry needs it the most, free of the kind of commercial copy that increasingly dominates food-related sites and instead populated with honest, genuine reviews. It was familiar territory to me; having written about the Bath food scene for various publications for some 25+ years, I was never going to stop just because a publication went bust, or a business plan failed… so off I went, on my own.

But my keen-eyed social media followers know another me too: theatre critic me, or Bath Echo Food and Drink columnist me, or Bath Magazine journalist me,  or Liverpool Post contributor me. And while that me has her own, dedicated Twitter feed (that’ll be @TheAnimalDisco, then) and a portfolio Authory page that constantly reloads and refreshes, I got to thinking… why not season The Prandial Playground with a sprinkling of my other stuff too? 

Dipping my toe in such waters, I recently drew the attention of my social media followers to my most recent contribution to the Liverpool Post. and bingo! Hit after hit after hit, and rafts of positive feedback in the ‘comments’ section on the LP site. I followed it up with another of my Liverpool Post rambles, this time focusing on the history of Liverpool’s Cafe Society, and basked in the same positive response. 

Was I flattered? Immensely! Grateful? More than! To know that even one person out there has read my blah-blah and actually enjoyed those words is the greatest gift anybody could offer to a freelance writer with aspirations to publish a novel (yup, yet another ‘other me’).

So a bullet has been bitten!

In, out and shaking it all about in between the restaurant reviews that will continue to dominate The Prandial Playground’s pages, you’ll find slices and snippets from the point where several of my worlds collide for your — I hope? — delectation. If you don’t like them, tell me! But if you do… shout it out loud on my behalf; after all, shouting my opinions out loud is second nature to ramshackle, unpolished me.

Enjoy?

Emberwood, Bath

Queen Square — created by Twerton-born revolutionary architect John Wood the Elder in the early years of the 18th century — was the first Georgian square created in Bath. Wood the Elder lived at the epicentre of his visionary, speculative design plans at 9 Queen Square from the first phase of construction in the late 1720s until his death in May 1754, when his son John Wood the Younger took over where dad’s plans for building the rest of Bath into one of the most important and significant cities in Britain left off.

Today, 9 Queen Square is the front door to The Francis Hotel, which opened in May 1884. 

In 2012, The Francis Hotel underwent an extensive transformation that transformed the gently imposing row of seamlessly interconnected Georgian townhouses on the south side of Queen Square into an elegant, Regency-inspired residence for visitors to the city. And now, it’s undergoing another contemporary transformation (oh come on, we can’t let an iconic Bath address age disgracefully, can we?) that promises to transform it into… well, see here to read about all that; for the purposes of this particular timeline, we’re here to eat.

Emberwood opened its doors in The Francis Hotel in May of this year (there’s an awful lot of May dates in this potted history, aren’t there?). 

Refreshingly eschewing attempts to channel all the pomp and ceremony of a Georgian era vibe (if we want that, we’ve already got this) in favour of creating modern history all of its own, Emberwood has bought something fresh and new to the Bath restaurant scene in a way that’s totally unique to the Heritage City right here, right now; take an imaginary flight from Hollywood’s Musso & Frank to Mayfair’s Guinea Grill with a brief stopover at the original Ivy along the way and you’re on the general ambience journey with me.

Smart, friendly doormen dressed in refined versions of Peaky Blinder-esque vintage gangster chic (without, please note, any trace of actual ‘gangster’ vibe) meet you at the door. In the stylishly spacious dining room, acres of polished wood and gleaming brass are softened by potted palms and velvet banquettes. Sparkling chandeliers twinkle overhead, bespoke low lighting flatters the whole space… and an exciting open kitchen offers exciting open views into a massive, rather dramatic charcoal-fired open hearth; “Ember” from that hearth, “wood” after the guy who built Queen Square – geddit?

Flame cooking is the Emberwood kitchen’s USP, with seasonality and impeccable sourcing writ large across the menu. Coal-roasted scallops almost took my attention away from the Cornish crab on the starter selection and I thought my satiation search was over when I spotted whole monkfish tail on the ‘From The Hearth’ section… until I noticed a very promising red mullet dish swimming alongside it. 

It’s a bit of a shame, though — and this is honestly my only tiny Emberwood niggle — that the beefy main event on the feasting section of the menu (that’ll be the restaurant’s already legendary ex-dairy South West Côte de Boeuf, then) isn’t readily available for a table for two. Yes, there was a Bavette steak on the main course selection but please, please, Emberwood God: can you throw a single-suitable Ribeye or a T-bone on there too, just to keep everybody happy? But oh, what do I know about such logistics? We’ve already vowed to return for the Côte de Boeuf and anyway, it’s not like we weren’t happy with the options we settled on; to the contrary, we were both beyond delighted.

We started with Martinis made to order at our table by a lovely man with a dedicated Martini trolley (gotta love a Martini trolley!) and a little board of rare breed Mangalitza coppa from the British Heritage Cured Meats selection — a rare treat indeed. When we managed to tear ourselves away from the cocktail/grazing combo, we tore into a silky beef tartare accompanied by uber-beefy beef tallow crisps, and the crab dish that kicked the scallops to the kerb: a generous pile of soft, sweet, chic crustacean delicately muddled with crab oil mayonnaise, tarragon and pickled lemon; heavenly, both. 

For mains, *that* rich, creamy red mullet resplendent on a super-luxurious crab and saffron risotto and topped with vibrant spears of just-about-al-dente asparagus; I doubt that even monkfish tail could have reached such giddily foodie heights. And oh, the delicate Cornish hake perfectly teamed with nutty, anise-tinged caramelised fennel, smoky charred potatoes and briny samphire: Bring. It. On! 

Both were the kind of dishes that you live in hope of finding in a restaurant in Padstow, or a Mediterranean quayside bistro, or an Amalfi Coast cucina — and I say “live in hope” because, regardless of where I’ve roamed, I’d yet to find the seafood dishes that lived up to my seafood dreams as much as the two I found on Queens Square, Bath, at Emberwood… and I mean that from the bottom of my fishy little heart.

For dessert, a deeply umami miso custard tart for Him and for me, a fragrant yuzu curd, matcha and white chocolate choux bun from the Dessert Trolley — who doesn’t love a Dessert Trolley, especially when it has ‘secret’ drawers that are opened to reveal a beautiful array of perfect petits fours hiding in plain sight? 

Throughout our dinner, service was friendly and seamless, the ambience exuded subtle, laidback exuberance and the overall experience was as contempo-elegant as a contempo-elegant restaurant experience gets; if you want to feel special, you’ll feel very special here.

John Wood the Elder’s plans for Bath were ambitious; he aimed to create a city that reflected both classical grandeur and ancient British history to shape and reflect the city’s modern identity. Today, Emberwood is keeping the flame at the epicentre of Wood the Elder’s vision burning brightly.

Siam Yim, Saltford

You know where Siam Yim is; you pass it every time you navigate the Bath Road to/from Bristol at roughly the halfway point. 

It used to be called the Thai Cafe, takes up no more space than your average shop front and doesn’t do anything in particular to make it stand out from the handful of average shops that surround it. So far, so very suburban takeaway? Wrong! 

At 7pm-ish on a Thursday evening, this tiny, unassuming, more-or-less roadside restaurant — more of a bright, breezy cafe/canteen really, decorated throughout in vibrant shades of pistachio punctuated by Thai-themed knick-knackery — is buzzing with cheerful locals who all seem to be on first name terms with the friendly staff. The lady doing all the hard work in the open kitchen pops out front from time to time to meet’n’greet regulars, confirm attendance at a forthcoming party and generally check that everybody’s okay. I can smell garlic frying, and fresh chillies seething, and fish sauce splashing around with soy. The air is heavy with the promise of Good Stuff; it’s the kind of place that TV travelogue chefs (Rick Stein, John Torode, Jamie Oliver, etc) rock up to when they’re touring any given region in search of great kitchens that shouldn’t be overlooked. 

As one would expect from a Thai menu, there are starters including spring rolls, sweetcorn cakes, Tom Yum soup, things-on-toast and crispy battered doo-dahs on the deceptively straighforward menu. Good! Why reinvent the wheel? From the classic array, we opted for succulent, perfectly-seasoned Thai fishcakes, smooth chicken satay served with a bangin’ satay sauce… and duck pancakes too, because one should never overlook an opportunity to roll up to a duck pancake party, and it would be rude (let alone unforgiveable, given the result) to overlook the invitation here.

On from that, eight main course options offer the choice of beef/chicken/duck/king prawn/tofu/lamb etc as a base for four Thai curries and four stir-fries (all of which come with your choice of rice or noodles as standard), turning what appears to be a limited selection into a major decision-making conundrum. We eventually settled on a classic Green Thai Curry (chicken) that did that tantalising spicy/sweet/salty/creamy thing that only a properly complex Thai curry can do, and an utterly captivating Pad Krapow laden with huge, fat prawns, the liberal presence of oyster and soy sauces creating an almost fruity chemistry with lashings of fresh herbs (basil; mint) while a handful of vibrant, al dente green beans brought yet more energy to the plate. 

Every dish is cooked to order in that lady’s open kitchen (I think her name might be Nikki) and that freshness burst through in every mouthful of both dishes, lifting the quality up, up and away from too many Thai restaurants who leave too many sauces waiting around in the background for way too long. In summary, it was all so, so good — and I mean, really, properly good.

The bottom line? We paid circa £80 (with service) for our 3 starter/2 mains feast and a bottle of excellent Sauvignon Blanc. We will henceforth be making the 7km journey from Bath to Saltford on a very regular basis — perhaps one day with my own TV crew in tow; who knows? For now, you should make the most of Siam Yim before anybody else’s TV crew discovers it.

Sarthi, Walcot Street, Bath

And so it came to pass that Sarthi recently magpied its way into the premises recently vacated by Pomegranate (née Aqua – keep up at the back!) on Walcot Street – and already, it’s a welcome addition to the Bath independent/plant-based restaurant scene.

At first glance, 88 Walcot Street looks like a rather formidable stone-fronted chapel nestled amongst the jumbly, tumbly surroundings of Bath’s ‘Artisan Quarter’. Venture within, however, and you’ll find it’s more of a mini-cathedral: cool, chic and infused with an understated sense of drama (if, that is, you consider the huge, attention-grabbing chandeliers to be ‘understated’) with tables/plush booths for all party sizes and occasions and a pretty little alfresco courtyard outback. 

So in many ways… yes, the restaurant is indeed a rather grand affair. But Sarthi has softened and suffused the imposing elegance of the surroundings by putting a genuinely warm and friendly ethos at the heart of the matter in line with a mission statement that puts heritage, tradition and life-affirming optimism at the epicentre of a magnanimous eat, drink and be happy vibe. 

From the glorious aromas that lure you through the door before you even set foot in the restaurant itself, there’s something in the Sarthi air that makes you feel you’re suddenly exactly where you should be, and all’s right with the world. And all is certainly very right when it comes to the food…

Sarthi specialises in well-priced, beautifully-presented vegetarian/vegan Indian sub-continent cuisine including a lively range of lesser-spotted dishes and specialities. It’s an interesting, extensive array that captivates the attention at every turn, with novel little flourishes such as Bang Bang Cauliflower, Garlic Mogo Chips and groovy Dosas happily sitting alongside traditional spice route raves (kormas; masalas; et al) along the way.

We started with Hara Bhara Kebab – minced spinach, peas, lentils, potatoes and a gentle hum of spice formed into four neat little patties, crunchy on the outside and moist within, served with their own little pot of rich, creamy sauce – and the fascinating crispy spinach/chutney/yoghurt/chaat masala combo that is the Palak Patta Chat, an Indian starter that I can’t get my hands on (or mouth around) often enough and exceeded my high expectations here, with extra bonus points added for super-pretty presentation.

And ooh, look what’s just landed on our table! Four Dahi Puri that fully live up to the menu’s “flavour bomb” description delivering texture, sweet/spice balance and all-round tastebud titillation in one bite. Oh go on – do it!

For mains, an earthy Saag Paneer laden with silky spinach and milky paneer, rich in earthy spices, thrumming with personality and perfectly complemented by our second sharing dish: a smooth, creamy, tomato/cashew-laden “Chicken” (or rather, a really, really good vegetarian ‘version’ of chicken) Butter Masala, fragrant and confidently complex. 

A slow-cooked, smoky/sweet Makhani Daal brought extra dimensions of luscious complexity to the party, Cashew Saffron Pilau Rice further upped the aromatic ante and a perfect peshwari naan sweetened up the whole affair. Talking of sweet… 

While you know – you just know – that a classic Gulab Jamun, a kulfi or a chocolate brownie won’t let you down here (this kitchen clearly knows all there is to know about Indian sub-continent classics), don’t overlook the Mango Delight with Coconut Crumble on the dessert menu. One part mango milk shake/lassi, one part almost-an-ice-cream-sundae and all parts grown-up kiddie treat, it’s the creamy, fruity, coconut-topped gift that keeps on giving.

And Sarthi is, overall, its own little glorious little gift that keeps on giving, to all of us. 

Magari Pasta, Milsom Place, Bath

In a city that’s currently struggling to digest the restaurant world version of a modern Roman invasion, Magari Pasta have taken a bold step in opening the doors to their second venture in Bath. The original Magari thrives in Bristol’s hip street food destination Wapping Wharf, a mere 14-ish miles from Bath but world’s apart in terms of — well, all kinds of everything the tale of two cities can tell us, really. 

But just a handful of weeks since opening in the Escher-style enclave that is Bath’s Milsom Place, Magari is already proving that not all Italian restaurants in the city are equal — and Magari is ahead of the curve in terms of all the good stuff that an authentic ‘modern Italian’ eating out experience offers.

For a start, the vibe on MP’s upper level terraces feels more Bergen than Bath… and the same could be said of Magari itself. The attitude is Scandi-style seductive (blond rafters raising the roof; clean-cut tables in a clean-cut layout; big windows letting big light in), and the décor as smart, fresh and uplifting as the restaurant’s ethos: “We have chosen to do as the farmers of the past,” I learn; “if an ingredient is not there, we adopt a similar one, and we often discover that it fits, thus creating a new variant…”

And thus we embark on a journey around a confidently concise menu that puts locally sourced produce (currently including Sussex Charmer cheese, CackleBean eggs, Ruby and White sausages and OddKin Coffee — something tells me there will be many more suppliers to come) at the heart of a small, self-assured selection of Italian classics from bruschetta to tiramisu by way of a neat line-up of saucy pastas. And who doesn’t swoon at the very mention of saucy pastas, especially when they slink along to a chilled out beat that forthrightly eschews elaborate descriptions and thankfully avoids promises of the dreaded “like mamma/Nonna used to make” platitudes? 

To begin, a neat duo of beautifully-presented bruschettas, one laden with a super-umami, super-piquant tapenade of leccino olives and capers, and a second topped with intensely-flavoured sundried tomatoes and bright, herby basil oil. We tried a luxuriously rich burrata too, oozing that burrata-specific, creamy curds’n’cream combo (stracciatella, don’cha know) and served with more of that basil oil, more of those slinky tomatoes and scrumptious bread. A carafe of rosé, a jug of water, views into a remarkably calm-under-pressure open kitchen that made me want to get in there and cook but in all honestly made me glad that I didn’t have to: stop right there and go no further, and all’s already well with the world. And then…

Silky carbonara made with golden egg yolks and dotted with depth-charge flavoursome nuggets of Guanciale, all pleasantly gritted by nutty-fresh Pecorino Romano. More of that Guanciale, this time in a spicy, chilli- and black pepper-laden Amatriciana sauce. And then…

What do you get if you muddle anchovy-infused butter with breadcrumbs, white wine and lemon zest and tumble the whole lot through pasta? If you’re in the wrong hands (or trying this one at home, which I strongly advise against), you get a watery puddle of raw wine, gritty fish, soggy crusts and oily pasta held together by chewy pith. If, however, you order Magari’s Alici, you’ll be instantly transported to a magical place where the essential components of so many classic pasta sauces can, in their own right, create one of the loveliest pasta dishes you’ve ever eaten — guaranteed.

The pasta itself (you can’t miss seeing loads of the fresh stuff neatly displayed in glass drawers at the entrance to the restaurant) is sturdy and confidently al dente. The prices are inordinately down-to-earth, especially when you consider the quality of the ingredients. And overall, the whole experience is a paean to How To Eat Out Today, quietly resetting our where and how we do that principles by serving thoughtful, generous, feel good food rooted in tradition but cheerfully waltzing along to a contemporary beat.

In a city that’s currently struggling to digest the restaurant world version of a modern Roman invasion, Magari is spearheading a much-needed revolution.

Picnic in the Park pop-up: Braai/Bush Trek BBQ

Last Friday night, I ate Prawn Mozambique for the very first time in my life. I discovered Smoortjie too – and Espetada Trinchado, and Milho Frito, and Hominy Corn; y’know, the kind of dishes that set your tastebuds wild with excitement, push your spellcheck to the point of combustion, and – usually – you have to make a long, expensive, arduous trip across and around the globe for?

Ah, but I didn’t have to travel any further than the corner of Lark Place and Upper Bristol Road (almost adjacent to the massive Victoria Park play area) to indulge in this unique-to-Bath experience.

Picnic in the Park has earned its rightful status as one of the best little cafes in the whole of Bath, serving boisterous (or light) breakfasts and languid (or grab’n’go) lunches, with excellent coffee and cake, cake, cake flaunted at every stop along the way, and super-friendly service guaranteed throughout; honestly, it’s just lovely… and so is PitP’s ‘best kept secret in Bath’ foodie-haven alter-ego. Say wha-a-aaaat? Well, read on…

PitP’s daytime service usually ends at 2pm. But on Friday evenings, the sausage rolls are put out to pasture, the candles are lit, the fairy lights are set to twinkle, the fabulous Camerton Wines list (a very special speciality side hustle for PitP owners Julie and Andy) comes into its own… and myriad superchefs including, this summer season, local legends Chai Walla (Friday 23 May), vegan Caribbean delights courtesy of Janifa’s Kitchen (Friday 13 June) and MasterChef Professionals 2023 finalist Kasae Fraser and her partner Vincent Gatay (Our Table, Friday 2 May and Friday 4 July) pop up to work their magic in this tiny, magical space. 

Last time we popped-up at a PitP pop-up, we went on a Korean adventure courtesy of Leona’s Bespoke Catering – a highly recommended experience on all levels. This time around, we revisited for an up-close-and-personal encounter with chef Anton, a PitP pop-up regular specialising – and I mean, really specialising – in Braai/Bush Trek BBQ South African/Mediterranean fusion feasts, the live action-drama of Anton’s astounding menu supplemented by chef himself slaving away on a live-action barbecue that (safely!) sparked and flamed on the pavement outside the cafe bringing extra-added drama to proceedings.

Fasten your seatbelts, foodies! We’re in for an exciting ride – but you’re not going to want those seatbelts fastened too tightly, as we’re set to ride through an abundantly generous feast indeed. 

Just after take-off (well, a gin and tonic), Prawn Mozambique: massive, juicy tiger prawns liberally doused in a spicy/smoky/sweet peri peri shower, with layers of confit garlic and citrus all dancing along to the south-east African disco beat. And then… huuuge Durban samosas – rich in oozy, generous tamarind-infused cheese – swiftly followed, before oxtail cooked so slowly that the soft, soft meat couldn’t be bothered going through the fuss of being cut with a knife and only barely mustered up the energy to cling to a fork; if you ever wondered what the term ‘velvety texture’ translates to, in food terms, this dish offered the textbook definition.

A pile of fluffy, nutty, subtly complex hominy corn accompanied our oxtail centrepiece, while corn in a different guise – crisp, sweetly savoury Milho Frito – fought for domination over the silky-rich, depth charge umami blast of the Espetada Trinchado sauce that came with skewers of deeply caramelised ribeye steak – who won this particular food fight? We the diners did.

Sausages arrived along the way too: spicy Ouma’s Boerewors, a jewel in the South African sausage-crown for very good reason, supplied in this instance by Bath’s own jewel in the butcher’s crown Larkhall Butchers (and, just to add to the properly local theme of this very special evening, there was an actual Larkhall butcher assisting Anton in what can only have been a very busy little kitchen while we lounged around stuffing our faces). And oh my word, the Cape Malay Pickled Fish! Mild curry spices, sharp pickling liquor and super-soft fish flesh bought together in teasy, skittish, vibrant harmony.

Just when we were starting to wonder if we’d eaten too much to manage even getting up from the table, along came the decadent, Peppermint Crisp Tart: decadently treatsome caramel and peppermint chocolate on a decadently treatsome Biscoff base that we vowed to box up and take home for breakfast but pretty much downed in one on the spot (oh come on, don’t tell me that you wouldn’t have done the very same).

Oh Anton, I’m in chef lurve! Oh Picnic in the Park: you’re doing amazing things, in your amazing little space. Thank you!

Anton’s Braai/Bush Trek BBQ will be popping up again at Picnic in the Park on Friday 6 June and Friday 25 July; please don’t miss out. And while you’re making that all-important reservation, do yourself a favour and book every other available Friday evening PitP pop-up sitting too; I guarantee you won’t regret it.

The Old Crown Inn, Kelston

One of the joys of living in Bath is the almost instant access we have to a whole host of glorious pastoral enclaves that surround the glorious little mini-metropolis at the centre of proceedings. 

The tiny little village of Kelston 4 miles/6-ish km north-west of the city is a case in point. Ancient origins (an ancient barrow dating back to prehistoric times; a church — St Nicholas — with its 13th century tower and Saxon remains hidden in the chancel), stunning Cotswold Way walking routes, an iconic soft cheese empire nestled in the nearby fields… heck, even the drive along the route from Bath to the village is a standalone experience in itself, all swoonsome views and cutesy cottages. And then, when you reach journey’s end…

Ah, the Old Crown Inn. The owners call it “a traditional country pub with a contemporary twist,” based around a belief in taste, style and time well spent. “Escape the city with us,” they say; “life tastes better here”. And d’you know what? Unlike many pub website mission statements, this one is not only 100% honest — it’s also an understatement. 

The Old Crown is a place where olde worlde charm meets thoroughly modern merrymaking expectations without either parties tastes impinging on the others’ preferences. Higgledy-piggledy nooks and crannies, flagstone floors, ancient beams, cosy fireplaces and subtly updated comfort-flourishes (jewel-coloured velvet cushions on heavy-hued oak benches; fresh flowers to soften stern stone corners; etc) dictate the innately characterful theme inside the multi-faceted 400-year-old inn itself, while a beautiful eco-friendly garden, recently refurbished to impeccable standards and featuring easy-access stone pathways and subtle lighting, is supplemented by the Garden Lodge: a spacious, bouji cabin-style affair that brings the outdoors in or the indoors out depending on the weather. 

Oh, it would be so easy to imagine yourself moving into the Garden Lodge; it’s the ideal contemporary countryside retreat. And indeed, we did ‘move in’ — well, for dinner at least, to a corner table where the chirrupy smatterings of birdsong I said I could hear over my shoulder turned out to be nothing to do with the “over-vivid imagination” that Mike said was playing up again, nor a result of me guzzling a gin and tonic too quickly; as it turns out, a family of robins live in the Garden Lodge — so there. Anyway!

The Old Crown’s regularly-changing a la carte menu keeps both fans of classic, classy pub grub familiarity (pork terrine; fish/ham, egg and chips; burgers; steaks; etc) and those in search of ‘right here, right now’ attention-grabbers very well catered to. We straddled both categories, starting with a distinctly non-bouncy chilli/salt/pepper squid perfectly paired with a lively garlic and lime mayo, and a satisfyingly plump beetroot arancini that came with more beetroot in both puree and pickled format, feta cheese, a sublime cashew yoghurt and a sprinkling of dukkah for extra-added crunch — simply wonderful, but not that simple to get this right. 

For the main(s) event, for him, a gert big juicy, well-aged sirloin steak with huge, frangible onion rings, proper fat chips, creamy peppercorn sauce and an exceedingly well-dressed salad and, for me, a plump, rich, pan-fried Cajun salmon fillet, the smoky, spirited flavours of the Bayou-inspired seasoning uplifted with a vibrant roasted corn and tomato salsa, the whole affair anchored by a very generous tumble of roasted new potatoes. 

Our whole feast was, all, all told, properly good real food: super-seasonal, generous, and clearly laden with care and attention to detail — and a neat wedge of smooth, creamy lemon and lime cheesecake that hit the perfect citrus/sweet balance upheld that ethos as the sun set over our lodge getaway bolthole and the robins settled down in their nest. 

One of the joys of living in Bath is the almost instant access we have to The Old Crown. 

Footnote: deals currently trending at The Old Crown! Order any two main courses from the a la carte menu from 4-9pm every Wednesday/Thursday and receive a complimentary carafe of wine to share. Every Friday 12 noon-9pm: enjoy a fish and chip feast plus a pint house ale/cider/lager/glass of house wine/soft drink for just £19