Sam’s MontpellierMontpellier Courtyard, Montpellier Street, Cheltenham GL50 1SR (01242 252752). Earth £7.50-£10.50, Rand £11-£15.50, Sea £12-£13, Heaven £8, Wine from £25.
First, our lovely waiter will announce our menu. Sam’s Montpellier “Just not right.” These four words strike fear into my heart. What on earth is going to happen in this edgy restaurant in Cheltenham? Life is… Country FileWill I have to lick the espuma of my black pudding from a plaster cast of the chef’s lips, or be spoon-fed each dish while wearing headphones and listening to a soundtrack that tells me in which key Jacob Collier is chewing? Jazz FestivalThat could happen. Oh no. It could be worse than that, right? It could be appetizers in dog bowls and desserts pulled with a trowel. I’m sure of it.
She smiled broadly. “Here at Sam’s,” she said, pausing, “it’s a small-plate concept. A bit like tapas.” Is that so? Oh, you’re a wonderful, sweet young man. And if I sound like I’m being condescending, all I can say is you’re smart to notice. This job lets you see things. Sure, reviewing restaurants isn’t all attack ships flaming off Orion’s shoulders or C-beams shining in the dark near the Tannhäuser Gate, but it’s a rewarding job. So when someone threatens to make a big difference, it’s natural to feel nervous and tense. And then relieved when that difference turns out to be painfully familiar.
Of course, some of you are tired of small plates. We’ve already talked about that, haven’t we? Details. You’re tired of this and that. Can I just order a main course like they used to do in restaurants? Well, let’s get the other infuriating details out of the way. The hard grey walls of the various dining spaces combine with the booming soundtrack to create an acoustic that only young ears can hear. Of course, the food comes when it’s ready. It doesn’t come in any particular order, like when your spouse says they’ll have sandwiches and tea ready, or when they’re done. Be grateful. Or be angry.
So listen up, the rest of you: if any of that puts you off, you’re missing out on some hilarious, exciting and highly entertaining food. Sam Price ran the kitchen of a pub just outside Cheltenham for many years, serving up reliable pub food that everyone will agree on. No one needed to give a speech about things being a bit strange, because they aren’t. Price is having a blast here. He paints to the edge of the canvas, filling every frame of the film. And it works.
The menu is divided into “earth,” plant-based, “land,” meat, and “sea,” fish. At each stage, something is fried. What matters is what accompaniment the fried food is served with. From the land list, there’s popcorn fried chicken with chipotle ketchup; from the sea section, there’s “bites” of monkfish with crushed peas and curry sauce. This is food for the middle class, eager to show off that they know what it’s like to queue at the fries stand, drunk and hungry, after the pub closes. In the earth section, they serve beetroot arancini with a light, grassy dill. Cut open the golden exterior to find a Hammerhaus bright crimson, as if blood had flowed from the ground. It’s garnished with lime mayonnaise to counter the sweetness of the beetroot, and a big dollop of Parmesan to remind you that this is a fried ball of risotto. Next comes cauliflower florets that are caramelized with smoked paprika and tossed in a buttery sauce of pine nuts and fresh red pepper.
Meat dishes require a process of cooking. Fatty pork cheeks are braised until spoonable, then piled on top of a creamy, soft cannellini bean purée. They’re drizzled in jammy Madeira sauce and topped with a crispy skin, puffing up nice and crisp. A shoulder of lamb is braised until it falls apart, then shaped into a big cake to go with chunks of golden rosti. Because fries are always good. They’re served with crushed peas, roasted carrots and a tasty gravy. Small-plate averses might squint at this dish and realise it’s part of a grown-up main course, calibrated to the £15 price tag. And rightly so. That goes for the precise slices of pink-but-crisp-skinned smoked duck breast and charred broccoli. This could certainly be a main course, had we outgrown adolescence. But at this point, we’ve given ourselves over entirely to the small but perfectly formed parade.
A crumbly pastry tart is stuffed with a piping hot smoked salmon mousse and topped with shiny ribbons of cucumber. Another carefully cooked hake is doused in a bisque sauce spun with a nitrous oxide gun, bubbly and light. Again, you rage, for you don’t like bubbles either. It’s the sauce that’s important, and this one is excellent, full of anise and popped with fatty roasted shrimp heads. The only misstep is the pistachio parfait, thrillingly green like a pool-table baize and deeply flavored, but my companion struggles to identify what the key ingredient is: peas, avocado, or bleached Kermit? The pistachio parfait doesn’t taste like pistachio, but the oily toast gets a pleasant smoky char.
The dessert section is called “heaven.” Not surprising at all, is it? The custard tart, which will clear your teeth of the granola that’s been stuck there all night, isn’t quite exquisite, but it does the trick. A light jelly filled with plump berries is a palate cleanser. A rectangle of dark chocolate torte, rich and topped with orange gel, coats the inside of your mouth. Choose the order in which you eat these carefully. This is Cheltenham, and we love gin, so the gin list is huge. There’s also a not-too-difficult selection of wines by the glass. Walking past, you might mistake Sam’s for one of those all-day brasseries. It’s perfect for avocado on toast, silly cocktails, and emotional debriefings with your best friend. But behind the hustle and groove, the crowd-pleasing atmosphere of the High Street, lies a place that serves food worthy of attention in any quantity.
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First, we want to thank chef Victor Garvey of Soho restaurant Sola, who shares with us the most expensive dining experience currently available on Deliveroo in the UK. Londoners can now order delivery from steakhouse Nusr-Et, from outrageous Turkish-born condiment shop Salt Bea, which includes a giant tomahawk for £630 and a wagyu strip loin for £680. You might want to add a bottle of Domaine Faiveley Bienvenues Batard Montrachet Grand Cru 2020, which retails for £370, but will set you back £1,650 via Deliveroo, plus a £1.99 delivery fee.
A Bristol pub has angered some customers and introduced a new pricing strategy that is likely to attract attention across the hospitality industry. At the Coronation pub in Southville, customers who order in person at the bar will be charged an extra 30p per drink compared to ordering via a QR code and having it delivered to their table. Owner Ben Cheshire explained: Telegraph He says it’s also better for staff: “It’s less stressful than having to deal with different people all the time for eight hours straight,” he says.
Indian restaurant group Dishoom has filed a lawsuit to cancel the trademark registration of another company using the name Ruby Murray. The late Belfast-born man’s name has long been used as a rhyming slang for curry, and Dishoom uses it as a generic term for its curries. However, five years ago the company’s director, Tariq Aziz, trademarked the name for various commercial ventures. Dishoom claims it never actually used the name, but Aziz says this is not the case. Dishoom says it has no intention of trademarking the name itself, and just wants the term to be freely available for anyone to use.
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