Category: RESTAURANT REVIEW
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Mangosteen, Bristol: Thai Tapas That Would Make the Spanish Spit Rioja
Right, so Mangosteen on Cotham Hill. A Thai tapas place. Which is not a thing. I mean, I’m not sure they have tapas in Thailand. I imagine the word would cause the Spanish to storm out into the streets, slapping their thighs in horror and waving jamón ibérico in protest. Because “tapas” are their thing.…
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Starbucks at Bristol Airport: Lukewarm Glamour, Hot Coffee
It is 7.30 on a Monday morning and the Starbucks team are ready. Four of them, finely tuned, a slick caffeine machine primed for battle. Orders fly, cups stack, names are misheard with military precision. You cannot fault them. They are sharp, cheerful, and efficient in a way that feels almost suspicious in an airport.…
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Noah’s Bristol: Beurre Blanc and Bikers’ Bladders
This is a tale of two halves. Or more precisely, a tale of two halves glued together with monkfish mousse and chip-shop grease. On the one hand, Noah’s is very good indeed. The food is excellent, the service bang on, the view of Clifton’s Regency crescents is beautiful. On the other, you’re eating your hand-caught…
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Blacklock Manchester: Where Cavemen Go to Evolve
There’s something gloriously primeval about a big plate of meat. Stick a group of blokes in a room with dim lighting, throw down a hunk of animal, and watch them gnaw away with the sort of quiet reverence that makes you think maybe civilisation was a mistake. I’ve been called a caveman before — usually…
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The Kensington, Cotham – A Local Worth Falling For (Even If It Let Me Down a Bit)
I love this place. There, I said it. I love this place. The Kensington in Cotham is the sort of pub you rarely find outside London these days — and even in London they’re being squeezed out faster than a pint in Soho on a Friday. It’s the holy grail of neighbourhood spots: a proper…
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Côte Brasserie, Quakers Friars, Bristol – A Hug in Slipper Form
Sometimes — and I know this will offend the ‘small-plates-served-on-slates’ brigade — you just want to go somewhere nice, sit down, and have a good meal without the faff. No QR code menus, no foam, no bloke in a beard explaining the origin story of your butter. Just food. Hot. On a plate. With cutlery.…
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Vivat Bacchus, Farringdon – A Lunch Upgrade Worth Logging Back Into Teams For
There’s nothing quite like an impromptu business lunch to lift the spirits and recalibrate your day. One minute you’re weighing up whether to endure another Super Green Falafel from Pret or gamble on that egg mayo baguette that’s been sweating quietly in the chiller since 8 a.m., and the next—you’re in a real restaurant. With…
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CiaoCiao, Barcelona – A Midnight Slice of Sanity
The great thing about arriving late into Spain — the only great thing about arriving late into Spain — is that the Spanish eat late. I have no idea why. I’ve asked them, often and earnestly, and they simply can’t tell me. They shrug, they gesture, they smoke, they look at me like I’ve asked…
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Prime by Pasture: A Burger Worth the Existential Guilt
So this was a little hello and goodbye sort of lunch. Hello to Prime, Pasture’s buzzy burger offshoot in Bristol. Goodbye to a wonderful colleague, though I won’t dwell on that part, mainly as there was a moment — as I was leaning in to the milkshake like a man doing something dirty in a…
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Gohan Dubai – Japanese Joy with a Side of Marital Discord
It came to my attention—because everything comes to my attention, particularly if it relates to food or travel or the steady erosion of my sanity—that in the ritualistic nightly conversation of “Where shall we go for dinner?”, there exists a subtle, psychological warfare between myself and the current Mrs Travel Critic (aka my long-suffering wife…
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The Travel Critic 