The Griffin Inn, Monmouth Street, Bath

The Griffin Inn – the smart little hostelry on the Monmouth Street/Princes Street axis with a history that dates back to 1730 – is thriving again… and I know for sure that I’m not the only Bathonian to say cheers to that! In recent years, history hasn’t been kind to this mellow oasis of city centre snuggery; since even before the start of lockdown, there was an “is it open or isn’t it?” kinda vibe going on that didn’t exactly foster a ‘regulars’ ambience or promote local appeal.

But in April of this year, the inn’s doors reopened under the stewardship of Bath resident Roger Payne (the man responsible for introducing super-glam Japanese jolly-up emporium Robun to the Bath merrymaking scene) in collaboration with Bath Ales… and at last, The Griffin is roaring again, with a refurbished taproom, parlour (gotta love any pub that uses the word ‘parlour’ in its descripto) and snug (ditto previous parenthesis) showcasing the building’s period features and turning it back into a gloriously affable, super-convivial, super-welcoming watering hole, complete with low beams, thick stone walls, plush leather armchairs in the bar area to the front and softly-lit dining tables to the rear.

On the drinks front, cool brews, classic and cask ales, local ciders, artisan spirits and lush, plush wines give tipplers much to consider, alongside cocktails for those in the mood for upping the party ante. The food menu, meanwhile, makes the prospect of not staying for a bite to eat a ridiculous concept indeed: neat, daily-changing menus and upmarket variations on the bar snack theme (sausage rolls? Tick!) bring a small but perfectly formed lineup of easygoing, well-priced options-for-all to the table, all of which fly the flag for seasonal, locally-sourced produce – and I have it on very good authority that both the burgers and the Sunday roasts are well worth pushing the boat out for.

At the time of writing (remember, we’ve established that Griffin menus change by the day, according to seasonal and market forces), I can highly recommend the Crab Risotto – a generous, deep-dive flavour foray that cleverly treads that fine line between delicacy and boisterousness, laden with sweet, creamy fresh crab – while an equally generous salad slicked with lashings of labneh is upgraded to stellar heights by the addition of lemon-infused grilled chicken; summer on a plate, best enjoyed at a table by the big picture window that looks out onto the fascinating nooks and crannies of Princes Street.

Smart but cosy, ancient but modern and effortlessly mellow to the max, this lovely little pub named after a legendary creature deserves legendary status in its own right today.

The Mint Room, Bath

Have you been watching MasterChef 2023? I have – and I’m all too aware that I’m watching it all too often as I have, apparently, started to channel MC judge John Torode, even if I’m eating eggs on toast, at home: “the whites are just set, the yolks are creamy, but everything is over-seasoned; if you’re using salted butter on the toast, you really shouldn’t need any more salt…” etc, etc, from breakfast to suppertime (“I can’t eat this chicken; the skin is lovely and crispy, but it’s still a little bit pink when you get closer to the bone…”). Not for the first time, I’m aware of becoming Very Annoying To Live With – so I’m deliberately dialling it down.

But when we go for dinner at The Mint Room, the channeling begins again and all of the Big Foodies, from John Torode to Rick Stein by way of James Martin and Grace Dent (but, thankfully, not Gregg Wallace), are commenting on the food: Torode can’t fault the seasoning; Stein is stunned by the seafood; Martin is congratulating himself for gracing the restaurant with his presence; Dent is saying that everything is exactly what she wants to eat, right now… and overall, they’re all loving the experience as much as I am. And why wouldn’t they? This place is full of all manner of sparkling surprises – not least of all for those who might judge this fabulous recipe book of a restaurant by it’s cover alone.

Situated as it is at the heart of an urban axis defined by a Holiday Inn Express and a Sainsbury’s garage forecourt, The Mint Room doesn’t initially look very promising. All credit to the Bath branch head honchos, then (there’s another branch of The Mint Room in Bristol’s rather more ‘salubrious’ Clifton Village) for turning what’s ostensibly a breeze block box into a subtly glamorous, urbane experience, all twinkly lights, shimmering bling, sparkly flourishes and super, superb service. Offering yet another surprising twist, the restaurant’s charms are supplemented by a super-smart rooftop cocktail terrace specialising in Champagne/premium liqueur-based mix-up magic-in-a-glass and offering urban cityscape views that make you feel like you’re in uptown NY rather than downtown BA2.

The Mint Room’s menus, meanwhile, represent a wholly authentic celebration of the massive culinary and cultural diversity of the largest subcontinent in the world; if you don’t know where to start that journey, the Tour of India Tasting Menu (an absolute bargain at £45pp, or £70 with accompanying Wine Flight) skilfully navigates diners throughout the whole voyage. On our most recent visit, though, we opted to go à la carte, albeit taking a little bit of advice from Adrian on board (Adrian! A hospitality superstar if ever there was one).

And so it came to pass that we took to our plush booth table (I am never happier than when I’m seated at a table in a plush booth) where, following elegant nibbles of crispy little down-in-one Pani Poori puffballs and three variations of papadums ranked according to spice level (!) and accompanied by a trio of complementary pickles, we started our feast with Bahar-e-machli: two massive, juicy salmon fillets marinated with roasted peppers, onions, tomatoes and all manner of gently enlivening spices, served with a silky honey-mustard yoghurt. The mellow richness of the salmon proved to be a lovely contrast to a second starter of a rather more boldly-spiced, mustard seed-laden Kasundi Murgh Tikka, richly creamified (please say that’s a real word) by hung yoghurt. We’d definitely started on a high…

…and we were in no fear of coming back down to earth any time soon. Behold the complex yet comforting Seafood Moilee: a silky dream of a fish dish bringing prawns, salmon, scallops and sea bass together in perfect, coconut-creamy harmony, subtly tantalising, sumptuous, extravagant and sophisticated. But his Keralan Halibut made a big splash too, putting generous slippers of crispy-skinned, pearlescent halibut in the spotlight and giving them a coconut sauce of their own to bathe in, with fresh mango, just-the-right-amount of red chilli and citrussy curry leaves highlighting the spice-balance and attention to detail in every mouthful. We weren’t just having a good time; we were, quite simply, in good food nirvana. And with all that… rice: of course! Simply steamed, so as not to detract or distract from the tastebud-party. Breads: buttery Peshwari naan; flaky Tandoori Lachha Paratha. But dessert? After all that, absolutely NO way! Gregg Wallace: the dessert sharing platter for two is all yours, mate.

Competent, confident and audaciously inspirational, The Mint Room kitchen team are masters of the art of modern Indian cookery at its very, very best. Take that, John Torode! The Mint Room is very definitely through to the next round of the competition for Bath’s Best Restaurant, time and again.

The Marlborough Tavern, Bath

I’ve lived in Bath long enough to remember the bad old days when The Marlborough Tavern was a rather tatty, unloved boozer, most definitely not in-keeping with its lovely location just a hop, skip and a jump away from the Royal Crescent, directly opposite the green lushery of the Royal Victoria Park golf/footgolf meadows. I’ve also written about food, restaurants and chefs since way before The Marlborough Tavern was scrubbed up and reopened by new owners in 2006 – the same owners who went on to form The Bath Pub Co half a dozen years later and now have four wonderful pubs in their wonderful family.

As for pubs who flaunt ostensibly super-worthy ‘mission statements’ on their menus and websites: I remember when all that started too. Today, even the most prosaic of same old, same old pub and restaurant menus claim to be all about local sourcing, and sustainability, and traditional values, even if they’re chain affairs with centralised production kitchens… and a team of snappy website copywriters who are clever enough with words to make those menus look, at first glance, as though even the restaurant’s salad leaves are home-grown in their back garden when the reality couldn’t be further from the truth.

But I can hereby hand-on-heart confirm that the statement on the The Marlborough Tavern’s website Food and Drink section is an honest, succinct, down-to-earth statement of aims that are fully lived up to: “great tasting home cooked food with an emphasis on seasonal and local produce,” it reads; “we like to think that we deliver high quality restaurant dishes, but without the stuffiness that can sometimes accompany them. Above all else, it’s about great British food.” I couldn’t have put it better myself – in fact, I could end my review here, and you’d know all you need to know about why The Marlborough Tavern is so – well, so lovely. If you want official endorsement of that statement, note that the MT didn’t earn 2 AA Rosettes for attempting to pull the wool over anybody’s eyes. And if you want my full and frank opinion too, read on…

Occupying a comfortable location wedged between proper pub and upmarket contemporary bistro, The MT offers an appealing blend of friendly familiarity and a fresh, smart outlook in both decor and menus. Whatever your mood, size of party or occasion, the Tav can accommodate your every whim without the folk next door impinging on your personal space, with big, chunky farmhouse tables giving great group and plenty of smoochy tables for two for the old romantics amongst us. The private walled garden outback offers an indoor/outdoor experience, and friendly, well-informed staff make any kind of pitstop either in- or out-of-doors an utter pleasure; little wonder, then, that this is one of the most popular dining watering holes in Bath, highly regarded for the kind of fabulous food and welcoming vibe that keeps locals and visitors to Bath revisiting on a regular basis.

I’ve mentioned those smoochy tables for two, right? We took to one of those – my favourite MT table, in fact, in a cosy little nook opposite the bar – for our most recent foray around The MT’s menu, which offers an easy-going blend of imaginative takes on global inspirations (a bit of Asian-fusion here, a smattering of Mediterranean sunshine over there) alongside classics that enjoy classic status for very good reason; the fish and chips are fabulous here, as are the burgers, and the steaks. In keeping with themes that I touched on earlier, it’s clear from dish descriptions alone that authentic genuinely seasonal, genuinely locally-sourced ingredients that boast a perfect pedigree are pushed to the fore; turn the menu over, and you can browse a detailed list of local suppliers and info on The MT’s sustainability policies and practices too.

And so, having digested all the readable matter on our little table, we ordered our starters: deeply flavoursome, funky/sweet ‘nduja and honey marinated chicken skewers with spicy zhoug paste for extra-added exotica and a crisp fennel salad to lighten the depth-charge flavour load (see pic), and an elegant tumble of crispy salt and pepper squid served with a neat puddle of lemon aioli (we have to have salt and pepper squid every time we visit the MT, for very good reason).

For mains, for me, decadently juicy confit chicken leg perfectly partnered with velvety creamed leeks, a crispy black pudding fritter (oh joy! Words cannot express how much I love a black pudding fritter) and frangible little shards of Serrano ham – an utterly divine combination indeed. For him, a plump slab of super-fresh pan-fried hake cooked to that perfect point of sweet, moist flakiness, complimented by a classic white wine sauce and herby mash, a bundle of earthy steamed kale adding robust texture and drizzles of parsley oil bringing a distinctively aromatic uplift to the party.

Like our starters, both of our main courses were cleanly confident in execution, and the pairings exceedingly well-considered; when we’d finished, we were left with that lovely, satisfied feeling that we’d eaten really, really good grown-up food, and we’d eaten really well – so well, in fact, that we eschewed the notion of pudding in favour of keeping the grown-up theme going with a cheese plate finishing course instead of a sweet treat: sharp, nutty, well-aged Cheddar, creamy Somerset Brie and salty-rich Stilton served with grown-up cheese board crackers, and grapes, and a very lovely chutney.

I really love The MT; I love its overall vibe, and the honesty of its offering, and how reliably good everything about it is. Yes, I remember the bad old days – and The Marlborough Tavern easily makes up for all of them.

The Architect, Orange Grove, Bath

If you’re a fan of grand designs, The Architect – formerly (and for way too long) a rather unloved branch of the rather unloved British casual dining chain Garfunkel’s, that dominated the ground floor of the former Empire Hotel in Orange Grove – has got it all going on.

If the approach – a massive, 6-storey L-shaped construction built in 1901 overlooking both Pulteney Weir and Bath Abbey, with a striking octagonal corner tower and a top layer that, strange but true, was designed to offer some kind of weird structural shorthand for Britain’s social class structure, with a humble cottage for the lower class ‘working man’ on the left, a couple of plain houses in the middle for the middle classes and a castle tower on the corner to represent the upper class (phew!) – promises grandeur, the artfully refurbished interior fully lives up to expectations.

Contemporary pub chain Brunning & Price opened the doors to The Architect in June 2022 – and beyond those doors, you’ll find all high ceilings, polished wood and palm trees that the building feels like it was built for. There’s a casually elegant chill-out zone at the start of the journey through to the shiny, sparkling bar and a spacious restaurant beyond that, where plush booths built into sensual, inviting curves and beautifully-laid tables for small and large parties alike are supplemented by a stylish little alfresco terrace. All in all, it’s an understatedly chic, welcoming environment that’s bought a little bit of a West London vibe into the heart of historic Bath…

… and the food rocks to a similar West End beat, fresh (yes, fresh! The ghosts of Garfunkel’s must be wondering what the heck I’m going on about here) from a kitchen headed up by Johnny Joseph, who I fondly remember from his days at the helm of The Huntsman pub and I’m really happy to see so happily ensconced here.

We too were very happily temporarily ensconced in the super-pretty conservatory area of The Architect’s dining room for the evening, where we began with starters of an utterly gorgeous spicy sweetcorn soup swirled with a red pepper and sweetcorn salsa (sounds simple, but honestly, there was taste-complexity to the max going on here) and a globe of creamy burrata served on top of a super-seasonal medley of broad beans, peas and wild garlic. For mains, for me, tender, pan-fried chicken with smooth Gorgonzola gnocchi in a velvety white wine sauce, smoked pancetta adding an edge of umami to what could have been, in the wrong hands, an over over-indulgent combination. Across the table, plump fillets of grilled sea bream with cockle cream sauce and a lemon potato cake that, like the pancetta in my dish, beautifully balanced the creaminess of the sauce and brought zing to the whole thing.

Ah, but I can almost hear you saying, at this point… aren’t we on pub chain territory here? Aren’t all menus the same, across the whole chain? Isn’t a chain more of a tourist hotspot than a local folk kick-back zone? Oh, you need to get with the Architect’s Bath blueprint! Not only does the menu push fresh, local, seasonal produce to the fore, but it the whole venture gives fresh, seasoned locals priority too – not least of all, local businesses.

On the evening we visited, we made sure we got there in time to join in with the Electric Bear Co meet’n’greet (and there are plenty of their brews behind the bar as well, alongside our very own Bath Ales options and all manner of interesting guests). Bath’s very own, uniquely wonderful exciting wine retailer Novel Wines have their own, dedicated chalk board wine list firmly installed on the wall and, just t’other day, they hosted a Best of British Wine Dinner at The Architect – the first, I’m hoping, of many more to come. Bath and Bristol’s Crescent Club recently hosted a Crescent Club Social in the bar, there’s a Cotswold Gin Tasting coming up on Thursday 8 June (it’s free! But you do have to book), and the regular Pub Walks – which include a complimentary breakfast bap and a cuppa to fuel you up for a gentle, guided 5k stroll around local beauty spots (next one: May 28) – are proving very popular indeed, with dogs and their two-legged friends alike.

Does any of the above sound like uncheerful chain behaviour to you? No! That’s because there’s none of that kinda vibe going on here.

As the American architect John Portman once said, “buildings should serve people, not the other way around”. For the first time in a very long time, The Empire Hotel is serving its proper purpose to the people of Bath.

PLATE at The Bird Hotel, Bath

Plush crushed velvet; juicy pulled pork bonbons; friendly faces. Cool contemporiana; cosy nooks and crannies; coffee salted caramel. An alfresco terrace offering splendid cityscape views; sticky jus; a sparkly bar specialising in sparkly cocktails: gosh, there’s so much going on PLATE – the deliciously quirky, super-stylish, flamboyant yet still somehow distinctly down-to-earth restaurant on the lower ground floor of the Kaleidoscope Collection‘s equally unique Bird Hotel on Pulteney Road – that it’s difficult to know where to start describing the experience.

Not that I’m on entirely new territory here; indeed, I’ve been singing praises on behalf of PLATE’s sophisticated yet playful presence on the Bath food scene for a while now – since it very first opened its doors back in the autumn of 2020, to be precise. Over the difficult months that followed, PLATE mastered the art of spinning in order to survive: there were click’n’collect menus to brighten up our darkest lockdown days, and terrace transformations to celebrate sunshine, and uniquely beautiful Dining Domes on that terrace that skilfully circumnavigated all the Covid-related in/out brouhaha in full-on British eccentric style that lifted spirits up, up and away, way above the grim Keep Calm and Carry On response to ‘we’re all in this together’.

Anyway, those difficult days are (hopefully) behind us now and, last month, PLATE relaunched itself and welcomed brand new Head Chef Kieren Ballam (you may have met him before, at The Chequers – I definitely did) to the kitchen. As one would expect from a new chef, Kieren – who describes his style as classic with a contemporary twist, pushing locally sourced, seasonal ingredients to the fore – has introduced a whole new raft of menus including a rather splendid Sunday Lunch offering to PLATE’s plates… but fortunately that décor and those style flourishes still remain. And cheers to that! If it weren’t for PLATE, where else could we dine at a restaurant with a centrepiece involving a beautifully-lit, foliage-filled upside-down rowing boat attached to the ceiling?

After pre-dinner drinks in PLATE’s super-glam bar, we took to a table in the dining room that offered a vantage point of the sun setting across Bath Abbey through the restaurant’s large plate (no pun intended) glass doors. To start, we shared two little dishes from the Little Plates and Bowls section of Kieren’s neat, 4/6/6 menu and, from the off, both the Pulled Pork Bonbons (supporting cast: apple puree, black garlic mayo, beetroot) and the Pan-seared Scallops (crispy chicken skin, pickled radish, compressed apple, chicken tea) proved my point regarding why a concise menu holds far more promise than a sprawling one: there’s attention to detail here, and careful consideration paid to pairings that go way beyond mere pretty plate-fillers (the crispy chicken skin in particular being a case in point here).

For mains, the Bird Burger almost dragged me away from the duck destination that I’d instantly set my sights on – after all, you just know that, at PLATE, neither the burger nor the fish and chips (yup, F&C were present and correct as an option too) are going to be prosaic incarnations of the classic genre… and Mike’s massive 28-day aged rib-eye steak (plus proper fat chips, roast tomato and lashings of garlic butter) was way beyond prosaic too. But hey, the Creedy Carver duck breast came with roast plum, and butternut squash purée, and ‘sticky jus’ – and who can say no to the prospect of sticky jus? I’m very glad that I didn’t, for this was a very ‘cheffy’ duck dinner indeed.

Cheffy twists and turns dominated the dessert menu too: Sticky Toffee Pudding came with a very grown up coffee salted caramel and an unashamedly urbane tonka bean ice cream, while the addition of elegantly aromatic tarragon to the Milk Chocolate and Raspberry Dome (sable breton; vanilla crème anglaise) was a stroke of foodie genius.

As you may have gathered, we had a lovely time at PLATE – and it’s my guess that few people wouldn’t find their own little happy place here either. For me, the plush crushed velvet, friendly faces and sparkly bar specialising in sparkly cocktails give me an instant happy blast; for you, it could be any one of the fantastical statement wallpapers, or the intriguing cocktail menu, or… heck, I dunno, the fact that the cheese selection on the menu is headed Cheese, Glorious Cheese – all those things and more float my (upside-down) boat too. And I know that next time I float by PLATE (and there will be a next time, and a time after that, etc) I’ll find something else that makes me happy.

As the strapline on the Kaleidoscope Collection website says, their hotel restaurants (see also Olio at Homewood) offers a view of ‘life through a different lens’ – and PLATE offers a fresh perspective on eating out in Bath, well worth focusing in on.

Bandook Kitchen, Milsom Place, Bath

Milsom Place – the heart of Bath’s ‘Milsom Street Quarter’, don’cha know, and currently at the heart of a major B&NES remake/remodel/refurb discussion too – could be described as the Bath equivalent of, say, London’s Covent Garden, or Liverpool’s Georgian Quarter, or Edinburgh’s Stockbridge: an ancient-meets-modern urban sanctuary (in Bath’s case, based around a historic cobbled courtyard) and home to a variety of independent businesses and high street flagship stores and restaurants.

But despite the fact that the latest redevelopment of the Place once known as Shires Yard (remember that?) was unveiled almost 15 years ago, the Escher-style, split-level concrete and glass/listed building shake up still doesn’t feel as though it’s comfortably woven into the contemporary Bath city centre tapestry. Yes, it’s a tourist hotspot… but many locals seem unwilling to step too far off the familiar routes that lead from, say, Waitrose to Waterstones, or forgo their regular tables at the same restaurants they’ve been eating in for years in case the shock of the new is just too shocking, and new. More shocking yet, I was at a council meeting the other day where even one of our very own local councillors wasn’t even aware that Milsom Place was open post-sunset – a sorry state of affairs indeed. But I’m sorry too for any Bathonian who still isn’t familiar with Bandook Kitchen – a key member of the highly-acclaimed Mint Room family who have branches of both restaurants in both Bristol and Bath that thrives at the heart of one of the Heritage City’s most elegant ancient enclaves. I mean, come on! It’s not really off the beaten track, is it? Anyway…

It being a Thursday evening’n’all, there was a live jazz band happily installed in the reception/bar area of this super-stylish modern Indian merrymaking zone, adding further reasons to be cheerful to an already seductively inviting environment. Bandook owner Moe took inspirational cues and clues for his restaurant’s sophisticated but eclectic design flourishes (think, bold/subtle harmonious colour palettes; plush banquette seating or neat booths; striking statement lighting) from the Hindustani cafés where the British and Indian army used to gather to eat together; those guys clearly had a keen eye for detail that’s as appealing today as it was way back when. Moe’s looked back in order to look forward in terms of the menu too: from street food and small plates to full-on big dishes with a big history taking in dosas, chaats, pavs and all kinds of tantalising gotta-try-thats along the way, there’s something for everybody from the timid to the temerarious here, including super-chic cocktails on the drinks menu alongside some very fine wines indeed.

We took to a table for two in one of the dining rooms that, when the sun comes out to play, leads out on to one of the prettiest alfresco courtyards in Bath but – what with the atmospheric low-lit vibe and the fascinating artwork lining the walls – holds enough appeal in its own right to make tables in this zone a destination dining experience in its own right. Our table also offered a view into the buzzing open kitchen, where the men in white suits were busy, busy, busy tossing things onto hot flames, and grinding stuff, and plating up plate after plate of picture-perfect creations on the pass. Kitchen theatre? Yes indeed – but genuine, authentic kitchen theatre that reaps genuine, authentic results, not just Insta-ready reels with little substance beyond the razzle-dazzle.

And from that kitchen came our opening trio of small plates that actually weren’t that small at all: chunky slivers of the softest, tenderest lamb imaginable, tumbled with peppers and dressed in a subtly fiery seasoning (Lamb Pepper Fry: new to the Bandook menu, set to trend any moment now), sticky, hot/sour/spicy Chilli Paneer in a seductive sweet pepper sauce, and squid coated in chickpea flour, fried until just-about-crispy but still meltingly soft and tossed around with onions and peppers. It’s only very, very occasionally that I experience a combination of dishes/flavours/styles that can only be described as ‘exciting’… and this was one of those occasions.

For the main event, Butter Chicken (fresh tomatoes and very tender chunky chicken in a velvety, mildly-spiced sauce teeming with savoury/sweet fenugreek) and Goan-inspired Balchao King Prawns: a sophisticated little number that bought an affably rich, tantalisingly uplifting combination of coconut, tamarind, mustard seeds, cardamom, smoky dried/tingly fresh chilli and plump, meaty prawns together in a proper bowl-party. We had deeply flavoursome Daal Makhani too, and a shared bread basket of fresh-off-the-tandoor naans, our over-ordering meaning that we barely touched our way-too-optimistic third side of fluffy basmati rice – but hey, we did pretty well, all told.

And all the while, the live jazz wafted around us without ever once dominating proceedings, and fellow merrymakers came and went, and the lovely people serving us never once dropped a beat despite the fact that business was nicely booming… and Bandook once again worked its own, unique magic.

I love Bandook Kitchen. I love the restaurant’s style, audacity and overall vibe. I love how it’s filled a big gap in the Bath eating out scene by blending upper-crust modern Indian dining with a casual, welcoming, affordable ethos that’s effortlessly uplifting, and unselfconsciously soul-soothing. The Milsom Place ‘Quarter’ may reinvent, remodel and regenerate itself time and time again, but please, Bandook: don’t go changin’.

Pieminister, Westgate Street, Bath

I don’t really trust people who says they don’t like pies. Okay, fair enough, if they’re referring to potato- or meringue-topped versions, or latticed pies, or flaky, lid-only aberrations that, to me, are pies in name only, I get their point – there’s a fair debate to be had here. But real, proper, actual pies (as in, the shortest of shortcrust pastry wrapped around the juiciest of flavour-packed filling with, very importantly, no gap between filling and lid, and always served piping hot) top my “What’s Not To Love?” food charts, leaving even my beloved fish finger butties lagging far behind in their second place position.

Okay, I wouldn’t want to eat a pie every day – and I shouldn’t have to, either; a proper pie (which, by rights, has to be served with mash and rivers of gravy too) should fill you up and leave you craving nothing but lightly-steamed cabbage for at least three days afterwards. Your standard, off-the-shelf supermarket pie just ain’t gonna deliver on that score and, unless you’re prepared to put in several long hours honing the necessary skills required for pie success, few of us have the wherewithal to make the magic happen at home either.

Thank goodness, then, that Pieminister – the brainchild of Tristan Hogg and Jon Simon, who started their pie-venture in a little kitchen on Bristol’s Stokes Croft back in 2013 – are Masters of the Art of Proper Pies of the brazenly hip, new old-fashioned variety, and their newest piestop on the UK block (there are currently 16 in the small chain) is as brazenly hip/new old-fashioned as a pie restaurant gets: a giant suspended cast-iron bathtub hangs at the entrance; neon pies and related slogans light up the exposed brickwork walls; canteen-style tables suggest efficient, speedy satisfaction. There’s craft beer and cocktails on the drinks menu, flyers advertising Sunday Lunch, Bottomless Brunch and Student Discounts on the tables, and the menus are busy, busy, busy with all manner of combo-deals from a straightforward pie with gravy for £6.50 to the fully-loaded Mothership options (pies with all manner of trimmings, circa £13) by way of Express Lunch, nibbly things on sticks, Gravy Fondue (yes, really), a dedicated kids’ menu, an array of ice cream sundaes (hoorah!) and several mix’n’match small plates.

Small plates, in a pie shop where portions are known to go large? Oh, go on then! And so it came to pass that our order of super-crisp pork scratchings, nicely-spiced chickpea, spinach and sweet potato Chana-Rama Patties and the most delectably seasoned Halloumi Chips I’ve ever encountered arrived at our table in double-quick time, only to be duly gobbled up at twice the speed. But as tasty as they were (and they really were – and a bargain at 3 for £13), we didn’t really need them, because…

…our two Motherships landed: one Free Ranger (chicken, ham and leek in a dreamy, thickly creamy sauce, teeming with thyme) and one Moolin Rouge (velvety chunks of steak muddled with fat little nuggets of dry cured bacon in a deeply treatsome red wine jus), each one artfully plonked on top of a mountain of creamy mash dripping with minted mushy peas and scattered with cheddar and crispy onions that I was rather sceptical of but have now decided that my dine-in Pieminister pie can’t live without; cue total, concentrated silence at our table (a rare occurrence) until we were at least halfway through our feast.

Pieminister has landed in Bath in the perfect location at just the right time, when we all need a reliably good contempo-diner to dive into on a whim or for an occasion, on our own or with friends. All in all, it’s a happy place serving pies that make you happy; if anybody tells you otherwise, don’t trust them. When you go off in search of your own happy, just make sure you’ve got plenty of cabbage to dine on for at least the next three days…

Review: Tandoori Garden, Keynsham

And so it came to pass that we ended up in Keynsham. Not, you understand, “ended up” as in that “end of the line”/”what the hell are we doing here?” kinda way; more, just, well, we were meandering back from an early evening tour of various branches of Lidl (long story), and we were suddenly starving, and we were probably too late to make last orders in any of our favourite Bath pitstops, and Keynsham was just suddenly… there.

It being a gloomy Wednesday evening’n’all, the High Street was quiet. It seemed, y’know, nice, though; a handful of little indie shops punctuating the familiar high street chains and franchises, lots of apparently quite recent cycle lanes and planted pots doing their thing to add polish, and colour. There were a handful of initially promising little eateries scattered hither and thither too: a canteen-style Chinese restaurant with a really promising menu and a big sign inviting us to ‘Eat In’… but apparently the sign needed updating, and there was only takeaway available. A couple of blocks up the road, a cottage-y style traditional Indian restaurant looked inviting… but the despondent Deliveroo guy slumped across a sofa by the otherwise deserted bar clearly wasn’t going to meet’n’greet us any time soon and, given that we couldn’t see past the bar into the restaurant itself, the initial ‘inviting’ vibe dissipated fast. Three strikes and you’re out, Keynsham!

But luck would have it that we’d parked the car right outside the Tandoori Garden – a smart, brightly-lit affair promising ‘Classic Indian and Bangladeshi Cuisine’ – which just goes to prove that sometimes you’ve been led straight to the place you were looking for before you started going off in search of something else… and as it turned out, we’d happened across the place where the Keynsham locals go when Keynsham High Street is quiet.

As we were ushered to a lovely little table for two offering views across the street to the rather charming Polkadot gift shop I did my usual recce of fellow diners: several well-behaved blokey get-togethers, the like of which are pretty much always settled in any given high street curry house across the land on any given evening; a couple of loved-up couples; two very smart ladies, no doubt making very smart conversation – all in all, a nice mix, making for a lively atmosphere… and a menu that followed suit.

As you might expect, all the Indian/Bangladeshi fave raves are all present and correct here, from bhajis and samosas to bhunas, tikkas, jalfrezis, kormas, vindaloos, et al, with a Tandoori Naga boasting a 1.5m SHU rating (“a favourite with Keynsham Rugby Club”, apparently), a dish rather randomly flagged up as “Judy’s favourite!”, a Chicken Tikka flambéed with Sambuca and Amma’s Homemade Bengali Curry (pre-order only and, at £24.95, almost twice the price of most of the other dishes on the menu) along the way; ooh, interesting!

But it was the sweet chilli scallops on the starter selection that grabbed our attention from the off, so we teamed them up with a Prawn Puri to get the Tandoori Garden party started. Scallops: plump, juicy, perfectly pan-fried, and bathed in a sticky, sour/sweet sauce that, despite its big personality, didn’t overwhelm our delicate seafood superstars. Prawn Puri: rich, tangy, garlic and ginger-laden masala sauce; sweet, tender prawns; crisp, buttery puri – as an amateur connoisseur of Prawn Puri perfection, I can confidently state that this one deserved a gold star.

I dived into prawns again for my main course – a King Prawn Palak (think, a subtler, lighter version of a classic spinach/garlic-laden sagwala) – and tasted enough of the Special Mixed Balti on the other side of the table to be reassured that it was indeed a rather special bucket of enticingly-spiced comfort. Crikey! We’d really lucked in, hadn’t we?

With papadoms, rice, breads, wine and beer our bill came in at around £90 including service, my only quibble being that the price of necessary side dishes such as rice seem quite high in relation to the main courses (and at £4, that was definitely a pricey paratha, yes?). But had we forgone starters (which we could easily have done, as portions go large here) and gone glass-by-glass rather than bottle-by-bottle on the wine/beer front, we could have easily knocked at least £30 off that final tally, putting us firmly into affordable midweek cheer-up territory – and bear in mind that in terms of quality, vibe and “welcome to the neighbourhood” warmth of the overall experience, you really do get what you pay for here.

So: would we return to Keynsham High Street’sTandoori Garden to find out exactly what makes Amma’s Homemade Curry so special? There’s a very high probability that we will, taking a friend of ours who’s always willing to climb the Scoville Scale with us. Will any of us brave that Sambuca-flambéed Tikka, though? Unlikely; I’m happy to leave that dish to the locals.

The Scallop Shell: “super-fresh, super-accessible dishes focus on the sheer joy of well-priced, cleanly presented, responsibly sourced fish and seafood… and no catches.”

It’s a typical Tweet: ‘The grilled seafood plate to share has been flying out! Skate wing, sea bass, gurnard, mussels, scallops, white prawns, day boat squid, courgette salad, salsa verde and fresh cut chips… come and get it!’

And suddenly, you’re transported to a seafood shack on the Dorset coast, or one of those high-end destination diners in Cornwall, or a harbourside restaurant in Marseille. Except you’re not; you’re destined for The Scallop Shell, the funky, vibrant deep sea diner on an erstwhile mundane thoroughfare in Bath (Monmouth Street, to be precise) where all the cooking action goes on in a lively open kitchen behind an ice-filled bath tub and, on the upper floor, a fairly light lit, stone walled terrace off the banquette booth-lined contempo-cosy dining room (complete with smart little bar) further endorses the feeling that you’ve found both food and mood nirvana.

The Scallop Shell (est. 2015) is the brainchild of Garry Rosser: a chef whose passion and enthusiasm for seafood knows no bounds. Garry’s super-fresh, super-accessible dishes focus on the sheer joy of well-priced, cleanly presented, responsibly sourced fish and seafood… and no catches. Want to ask Garry (or a member of his family; both TSS and little takeaway sister venture The Oyster Shell on Moorland Road are family businesses in the truest sense of the words) more about what he does so well? He can often be found beyond the pass or even front of house, and is always only ever too happy to chat, and both he and his chefs have shared many a fish cooking tip with me on many occasions. Anyway…

The other day, there were braised Cornish spider crab legs with chilli, garlic and coriander trending on the Scallop Shell’s social media timelines. Not so long ago, fish stew with croutons and garlic aioli were on the Specials board; depending on the season, there might be rock oysters, or wild white prawns, or rope-grown mussels on the menu. There’s usually Enderby smoked salmon somewhere on the line-up, and of course cod, hake, monkfish, sole skate and more all make regular appearances.

Last time we visited, we were treated to a sneak preview of utterly divine Haddock Croquettes that hadn’t quite yet made the official menu: luxurious, smoked haddock-infused Béchamel encased in crispy, crunchy jackets, each little barrel of delight gone in two bites but destined to live long in the memory. We shared a Sea Bass fillet accompanied by an extremely moreish salsa-type affair too, and a classic, old school prawn cocktail complete with a soft boiled egg too, at which point we agreed that, had we stopped right there, we’d enjoyed an elegantly sufficient supper… but we were there to push the boat out.

We could have further upped the ‘elegant’ ante and ordered three more starters, to share (as you might expect, the scallops served here are always, always reliable perfect). We could have had good old cod and chips (needless to say, the many cod and chip suppers I’ve had here have never been bettered), or a smoked salmon fishcake, or even a Gloucester Old Spot pork chop (yes, really). But our date night catch of the day was whole Brill for two, served in all its slightly sweet, meaty, clean, brilliant brilliance, accompanied by the kind of fat, fresh chips that even the most gastro of gastropubs (by the way, do people still use the word ‘gastropub’?) would have you believe have been consigned to the file marked ‘Bygone Era’, scattered hither and thither with capers, and fresh parsley, and little pools of its own juices; to call it all a mere ‘good eat’ would nowhere near have done our fabulous feast justice.

And after all that, we tossed a coin that could have led to Sticky Toffee Pudding but landed on the side of Chocolate Mousse with Clotted Cream Ice Cream instead… because hey, when you’ve been for a deep-sea dive, you’ve earned your pud, yes?

Hello, and welcome to my very first post for The Prandial Playground, the former Pig Guide’s brand new home.

Yes, it’s been a long time coming! And yes, it’s still very much a work in progress, so there’ll be lots of tweaking to digest as the days, weeks and months roll along. But I firmly uphold the opinion that diamonds in the rough have much more value than even the most highly-polished fakes… so here I am, in my ramshackle, unpolished state.

It’s my aim to use this website to promote all that’s good about Bath’s independent food scene at a time when our hospitality industry need it the most, free of the kind of ‘advertorial’ and ‘sponsored’ commercial copy that increasingly dominates food-related sites, and instead laden with honest, genuine reviews, news and opinions about the food scene in the city I know and love. Coming soon: a brand new review of much-loved fave rave The Scallop Shell, a Moorfields revisit, fresh takes on both Yak Yeti Yak and Chez Dominique, a catch up on all the exciting pipeline plans from The Grapes/Budō Bā’s imminent unveiling on Argyle Street and my thoughts on the brand new branch of Pieminister (Westgate Street). Phew!

But where does the ‘… and Beyond’ part of the new name fit in to that remit? Well, have words, have thoughts, have opinions – will travel! Liverpool (my second home) is a regular pit-stop, and I’m eagerly anticipating making reservations to finally meet superchef Porky Askew at his fabulous Art School, plus dinners at both Antonio’s in Knowsley Village and Lu Ban in the not-too-distant future. Who knows where else my travels may take me? You will, when I get there!

For now, thank you for reading my very first PP post. Got something to say? Tweet me @ThePigGuide (ah, I couldn’t let the name go completely, could I?) or drop me a line; after all, I’m all yours!