Review: Berners Tavern
The first thing that hits you, of course, is the mass of artwork. It’s extraordinary. Piece after piece after piece is stacked and framed and making you feel as if you are being observed, rather than the other way round. And the busy-ness of the walls is more than matched by the action on the floor. Sharply-dressed waiting staff zoom around in premeditated pathways, bar staff mix drinks at the speed of lightning, and every table is filled with diners trying to mask their look of awe. Whenever a restaurant generates a bit of hype, it’s self-perpetuating. People are happy to work there, eat there, be there…all while affecting an air of nonchalance. The atmosphere is one of barely quelled excitement.
Still, ambience or no, the food still has to stand up to keep the punters coming in. The menu is typically à la mode, combining fine dining with comfort: Orkney scallop ceviche can be followed by a beef burger, and triple-cooked chips can be added to an order of Cumbrian English rose veal. To start, I opted for the crispy lamb breast, which was essentially a really, really, really nice lamb version of a chicken nugget. The accompaniment was the star of the dish: pecorino fregola pasta topped with lamb marrow crumble, which was both huge and hugely satisfying. My friend’s potato and parsley soup was served with flair, the vibrantly green liquid poured carefully over rich black pudding and snails. The brioche toasty was another generously-sized component, and its spinach and ricotta tasted especially decadent.
The main courses were a little less quirky but just as impressive. One of our waiters (a different one arrived for every topping up of water, let alone delivering courses) advised us to go for the pork chop because ‘I don’t know how they make something so simple taste so good.’ It was a spot-on explanation, as it turned out, because the hearty cut of meat was uncomplicated but chargrilled to smokey, pinkish, firm-yet-tender perfection. My friend’s fish was similarly simple but effective: a flakey hunk of seabass poised on a bed of spinach and samphire. Both dishes were just what we were expecting, and both were devoured ruthlessly. We ordered a side of triple-cooked duck fat chips (how could you not?) which were so delicious they have now ruined all other chips for us forever.
In a righteous (and foolish) effort to cut back on sugar, I eschewed pudding for the cheeseboard. This was a delicately portioned but decent selection of cheeses, comprising the usual combination of hard, soft and goat, but I immediately regretted my decision once I saw my friend’s éclair. Gleaming my impression purely from his reaction (because he was absolutely not sharing) it seems the dish was an indulgent explosion of cream, lighter-than-light choux pastry and salted caramel ice cream. It was, he affirmed, ‘worth getting fat for’, which is the highest honour that can be bestowed on a dessert.
We spent a languid two hours at our table, enjoying the frenetic pace of the place but still managing to relax. And that is the hallmark of Atherton’s eateries: whether Little Social, Social Eating House or Berners Tavern, the vibe is that there are an awful lot of exciting elements going in to showing you a good time. From the never-ending supply of attentive waiters, to the over-adorned walls, to the food which keeps your delighted tastebuds guessing, Berners Tavern is that rare restaurant which really does live up to expectations. Rigorous in execution but relaxed in effect, it is modern fine dining at its finest.
www.bernerstavern.com
Still, ambience or no, the food still has to stand up to keep the punters coming in. The menu is typically à la mode, combining fine dining with comfort: Orkney scallop ceviche can be followed by a beef burger, and triple-cooked chips can be added to an order of Cumbrian English rose veal. To start, I opted for the crispy lamb breast, which was essentially a really, really, really nice lamb version of a chicken nugget. The accompaniment was the star of the dish: pecorino fregola pasta topped with lamb marrow crumble, which was both huge and hugely satisfying. My friend’s potato and parsley soup was served with flair, the vibrantly green liquid poured carefully over rich black pudding and snails. The brioche toasty was another generously-sized component, and its spinach and ricotta tasted especially decadent.
The main courses were a little less quirky but just as impressive. One of our waiters (a different one arrived for every topping up of water, let alone delivering courses) advised us to go for the pork chop because ‘I don’t know how they make something so simple taste so good.’ It was a spot-on explanation, as it turned out, because the hearty cut of meat was uncomplicated but chargrilled to smokey, pinkish, firm-yet-tender perfection. My friend’s fish was similarly simple but effective: a flakey hunk of seabass poised on a bed of spinach and samphire. Both dishes were just what we were expecting, and both were devoured ruthlessly. We ordered a side of triple-cooked duck fat chips (how could you not?) which were so delicious they have now ruined all other chips for us forever.
In a righteous (and foolish) effort to cut back on sugar, I eschewed pudding for the cheeseboard. This was a delicately portioned but decent selection of cheeses, comprising the usual combination of hard, soft and goat, but I immediately regretted my decision once I saw my friend’s éclair. Gleaming my impression purely from his reaction (because he was absolutely not sharing) it seems the dish was an indulgent explosion of cream, lighter-than-light choux pastry and salted caramel ice cream. It was, he affirmed, ‘worth getting fat for’, which is the highest honour that can be bestowed on a dessert.
We spent a languid two hours at our table, enjoying the frenetic pace of the place but still managing to relax. And that is the hallmark of Atherton’s eateries: whether Little Social, Social Eating House or Berners Tavern, the vibe is that there are an awful lot of exciting elements going in to showing you a good time. From the never-ending supply of attentive waiters, to the over-adorned walls, to the food which keeps your delighted tastebuds guessing, Berners Tavern is that rare restaurant which really does live up to expectations. Rigorous in execution but relaxed in effect, it is modern fine dining at its finest.
www.bernerstavern.com