A cosmopolitan night at the perfectly British Hereford Road

An Englishman, a Scot and two Sicilians walk into a bar.  “Is called Blanket Beach Babylon, very Nottin’ ‘ill”, Sicilian No.1 declared proudly.  The welcoming committee consisted of a heavily made up waitress in 7-inch heels and a stuffed white poodle with a feather boa around its neck.   In the corner, sat a Russian billionaire surrounded by leggy blondes.  Why?  Who knows but that is what this place is – once the epitomy of cool, now London trash at its best.

We scrambled around for four chairs (swiping them from the reserved tables when the 7-inchers weren’t looking) and sat down.  The “Porn Star Martinis” (aka passion fruit Martinis with a shot of Champagne on the side) were delicately done and the atmosphere here is intriguing, if a little odd.  But after an hour, Sicilian No.2 became restless and hungry,”how is English food?”  Enter the exquisite Hereford Road.

Located just off Westbourne Grove, in what was once a butcher’s shop, Hereford Road bills itself as serving “whole-hearted, robust, simple British cooking using the great wealth of our national produce”.  But for non-Brits who last visited the UK in the ’80s (like Sicilian No.2), that might be a scary thought.  No need to panic, Chef Tom Pemberton (a graduate of St John and St John Bread & Wine) has this place under control. A buzzing venue, the long, open kitchen is on the left as you enter – just Tom and one assistant chef for a restaurant that can easily hold 40+ diners.  There is a row of brasserie-style tables and banquettes along the right wall and then a two-tier dining area.  On this Friday night (just days after the sudden death of co-owner Alexander Mosley), the place was packed.  But the Maitre d’ assured us he would find a table.  Not 5 minutes later, we were seated under a large domed skylight in the main dining area.  On the way to our table, we passed groups of 4, 5, 6 people all tucking into seemingly great food.  We heard French, Italians, Americans – and nobody looked like they were being poisoned ’80s style.

Our Sicilian friends spoke good English but try explaining this “nose-to-tail” menu – sweetbreads, potted crab, piccalilli, eel, cow’s curd, cockles, guinea fowl (“small bird with a tiny brain that runs in front of cars” was the Englishman’s attempt) and finally Eton mess and treacle tart. “I want to eat brain” announced Sicilian No.1 as she tucked into what the menu described as “deep fried calf’s brian and tartare sauce”.  Who was Brian?  Moving on, guinea fowl may be dim but who cares when it’s served with lentils and wild garlic and tastes this good?  Rabbit is making a welcome return to British cooking and Hereford Road serves it up with fennel and bacon.  All washed down with a bottle of Brouilly, this was one very satisfied table.

“Shall we have pudding?” asked the Englishman. “Buuuuurgh! I ‘ate puddin’” declared Sicilian No.2 “is so ‘eavy, with a funny texture.  I don’t like it”.  But when the Eton mess and treacle tarts arrived, there was no denying this was a million miles away from what she thought of as pudding.  A glass of Muscat on the side was the perfect  touch.  Why can’t every restaurant get it this right?  The Guide cannot recommend Hereford Road highly enough.  Take your mother, take your lover.  You can even take your Sicilian.

Hereford Road Restaurant, 3 Hereford Road, Westbourne Grove, London W2 4AB, Tel: +44 20 7727 1144