Earth and Stars

Roast dinner: £10.95
Avg drinks prices: Draught cider £3.90; orange juice £1.95

The Earth and Stars always caught my eye because of the awesome notice boards on the walls outside. Cutesy anecdotes from the point of view of the bored board itself, they're small things that always made me chuckle. It's obviously advertising that works (on some) as when I was at a loose end one Sunday, I decided I was going to give it a go.

It's not the cheapest of pubs - it certainly pays for its excellent location (the pub is on a corner just off Queen's Road; close to the station and The North Laine). The beers are slightly pricier than average and the food is priced to reflect the central area.  However, on entering I found it to be choc-full of people who evidently appreciate what it has to offer.  All types of people, too - couples; groups of young adults; older people - they're all here.  I think it has something to do with the staff - patient, friendly, unassuming - and the general atmosphere of the place.  In the winter, it has a cosy feel to it as it's quite small, but in the spring and summer months the place is bright and airy.  The artwork on the walls is unique and the decor isn't too flashy.  There's plenty to read adorning the walls and even the chalkboards have an attitude.

The choice is quite limited - the standard beef, chicken or lamb - with a veggie option I didn't catch (sorry).  Just the one veggie option, though, which I thought was a bit mean, but hey - it's a small place.  I opted for beef, my friend Chris for the chicken.  There's a myth that The Earth and Stars is an organic pub, but that's not been the case for a while.  I was disappointed, as I love organic beef, plus for nigh on £11 I expected something special.  However, it was still local and you can't argue with that.  There were some absolutely awesome aromas coming from the kitchen - I was quite excited from the off, despite the meal and drink costing me a whopping £16.  I watched as plate after plate came out of the kitchen piled high with goodies, and when mine came (after only a fifteen minue wait), I wasn't disappointed.  

It was a mountain.  An actual food mountain.  Yes, it costs £11, but you get a lot for that money.  Potatoes nudged for space alongside carrots, cabbage, parsnips and swede; gravy threatened to spill off the edge at the slightest nudge of the table.  The yorkie sat tentatively on top, as if it knew it was about to fall.  The beef was completely hidden at the base of the plate.  However, I found this appealing - it was like an adventure to find the prize amongst the melee.

The spuds were lovely - a little dry, perhaps, but the ample amount of gravy made up for that, and at least you get more than two.  The parsnips were proper parsnips (no parsnip crisps here - hurrah!), roasted to perfection - burned at the edges and soft in the centre. However, they juxtaposed the carrots, which in turn were actually quite boring and would have benefited from a little more seasoning.  The cabbage was slightly salty and could have done with a sprinkle of cinnamon, or apple - the gravy provides enough salt in itself and I didn't need any more.  After a while I found it to be too thirst-inducing to eat and so after a couple of mouthfuls I left it.  But the beef.

Oh, the beef.

Great big wads of roughly-carved, pink-in-the-centre beef.

It melted on the tongue, even if it was slightly fatty.  Crisp at the edges and smooth in the centre, it complemented the rest of the food perfectly, especially the homemade yorkie (which itself was not at all small - more monstrous!).  The chicken, however, was not so good.  Chris looked insanely jealous of my beef, and in a turnaround from my experience at The Farm Tavern, it seemed I had chosen the best roast on offer.  He summed it up in one sentence thus: "this chicken is all about the skin. The meat - not so good."  He proclaimed it to be rather dry - like the potatoes - and that he was lucky they didn't scrimp on the gravy.  A real sad twist to the story, because had the chicken been good, this place would have definitely scored higher.

In the end, I was beaten by the mountain - it was far too huge for me to finish.  Definitely one for the big eaters.  I was disappointed - I have a frugal mind and I'm all about eating what you've paid for - especially when it costs as pretty a penny as this one did.  I just couldn't, though, so I pushed my plate away and tried not to think of starving children in Africa.  I can't help but recommend this one idea - maybe next time, charge a little less and put a little less on the plate.

6/10

46 Windsor Street, Brighton BN1 1RJ
Tel: 01273 722879
Credit/debit cards accepted (over £10)
Booking recommended
http://www.drinkinbrighton.co.uk/earth-and-stars

The Farm Tavern

Roast dinner: £7.95
Avg drinks prices: Bottle cider £3.85; pint lager £3.70; orange juice £1.75

The Farm Tavern is a small, minds-its-own-business establishment set back from busy Western Road on the tiny Farm Road just by Palmeira Square.  In competition with the yet-to-be-rated Cooper's Cask, we opted for The Farm simply because there were 11 of us and we were able to book.  Granted, I've heard amazing things about Cooper's but it wasn't a risk any of us were ready to take when we knew we were going to be so very hungry.

When we arrived, we were greeted by the smiliest and friendliest barman I think I've ever had the pleasure of conversing with.  An older and evidently more chilled-out guy, he was happy to sit and chat with us before we went upstairs to our table.  We ordered some drinks, caught a glance at the newspapers and then headed up to wait for the others.  This is a bar that truly loves its hippie clientele - I saw more piercings, dreadlocks and amateur tattoos in this place than I saw the entire afternoon afterwards - so if you're not a fan of that brigade, this place might not be for you.  There are also lots of children, so if you're the sweary type, it's best to keep away on a Sunday avo.

As I said, The Farm is a small pub, but they've made good use of the available space.  The stairs are not the greatest idea if you've got elderly relatives or a pram to carry, but for us the only obstacle they posed would have been evident only after alcohol had been consumed.  Once you make it upstairs, you're greeted by a bright, airy room that's neither too overcrowded nor too sparse.  On the wall is a huge chalk menu regaling you with the various roast choices - and boy, are there choices.  One of The Farm's strongest points is that it caters for vegetarians, and it does so well.  Alternating between veggie and vegan options, meat-haters actually get a choice of decadent dishes ranging from pie to casserole, all served with their own veggie gravy and with all the trimmings as standard.  No lazy nut roasts in this joint.  However, being the carnivore I am I opted for the Old Faithful (aka the beef), whilst Dan went for his usual of pork belly.  Others went for the chicken and we did indeed have a few take up the veggie options.  We really did not know what to expect - after all, these are roasts that cost less than £8.00, which, let's be fair, is something of a rarity in Brighton (with the obvious exception of Wetherspoons).  I honestly believed we'd be dished up an average roast with average veg - maybe a presence of boiled carrots and peas - but no.  What we got was very different indeed.

The potatoes were by far the most striking part of this roast.  Huge, crispy and light as a cloud in the centre, they melted off the fork - and we got a substantial amount of them, too.  The Farm don't scrimp on the good stuff, that's for sure.  My good friend Ray believes that potatoes can make or break a roast, and yes, they were what lost The Connaught points in my last post - but if that's your measure of greatness, then these are something special.  However, one cannot dwell on one part of the plate, so as for the rest...

The usual veg was present - carrots, broccoli, cabbage and parsnips. However, the carrots weren't lazily boiled as I'd assumed they would be; they were roasted to perfection and served in moreish bite-sized chunks.  The broccoli was al dente and a vivid green; there was no hint of soggy school dinners as is the problem suffered by some.  The cabbage was spicy and tangy with a nice crunch, too.  However, if there is one think I am coming to despise in the roasting world it is the parsnip crisp.  I mean, come on - they are by far the laziest of garnishes.  I love my parsnips, especially roasted with honey, and to get them sprinkled nonchalantly on top of my food - with gravy, which only serves to send them into a state of soggy oblivion - is just cruelty.  I wanted substance, and I got something totally different.  Please guys, just stop.  There was also a creamy concoction of unidentifiable appearance which despite our apprehension was sweet and delicious and set off the carrots perfectly.  Which leads me to the gravy.

Thank the sweet lord!  We finally have on our hands an establishment that knows what a decent portion of gravy looks like.  The plate wasn't swimming, nor was it bare - there was just the right amount.  It was also perfectly executed - not too thick, not too runny and a slight tang of red wine running through it without being overbearing.  It was delicious.  My veggie friends stated that their equivalent did not suffer from lack of meat juices and fats - apparently theirs was fragrant, herby and very nice indeed.

Which leads me to the biggest part of the meal - the meat.  I hate to say it, but I felt let down by my beef.  Considering the rest of the plate was so perfectly and artistically put together, the beef was fatty, overcooked and a little limp and soggy - as if it had been sat out a while after being carved. A huge shame, as it really is such an important part - although I may just be spoiled after my wonderful experience at The Connaught.  The others were more complimentary, though - according to Dan, the pork belly was 'truly awesome' - a thick, bubbly layer of crackling sat atop a pink, juicy slab of meat - no Foragers-style farty child-size portions here - it did look divine, and part of me was insanely jealous of them.  I was kicking myself that I'd played it safe.  The veggie options were also met with approval, with various party members claiming them to be 'light', 'not at all stodgy' and 'full of flavour'.  The chicken also looked excellent - again, a huge portion sat atop the vegetables, resplendent in a coat of herbs and spices, one of which I assumed must have been saffron, from the appearance and distinct smell.  Not bad for £7.95.

All meals come with a yorkie - the veggies get their own, meat-free version - and these are pretty standard.  Average-sized, there is a distinct packaged-food quality to them - if they are home-made, they certainly don't taste it. However, they soaked up the gravy well and added some stodge to the dish - as the veggies were so well-cooked, there wasn't a lot of heaviness in the roast at all.

I found it hard to rate The Farm.  Whilst in my mind the disappointing beef and yorkie led me to a certain 6, the others, with their excellent selection of meats and veggie concoctions were sure it should be an 8.  We decided to compromise, on the sole basis of the whole thing costing £7.95. Come on - that's outstanding.

7/10


13 Farm Road, Hove BN3 1FB
Tel: 01273 325902
Credit/debit cards accepted
Bookings taken and recommended for larger parties
www.farmtavern.designextreme.com

The Connaught

Roast Dinner: £10.95-£12.95
Avg drinks prices: Bottle cider £4.25; orange juice £2.60; pint lager £3.95

I've eaten quite a few times at The Connaught since moving to Hove.  Ever since we happened upon it one sunny August evening, it's been our go-to for family visits, stops during walks and when we've simply just been bored.  With its open fire sending out a warm glow into the bar area, and its quirky half-bar, half-bistro layout backdropped by art prints of Johnny Rotten, it's a great place to spend an afternoon without running the risk of being invaded by football fans, students or lushes.  Having stood by their Gloucester Old Spot sausages and mash with red wine gravy for the best part of six months, and having seen the quality of their pies, salads and sandwiches, I was ver excited to see that my friends were prepared to grace our end of town with their presence for a sampling of the Sunday Roast. 

Don't get me wrong, the place does have its flaws.  For all its character, one can visit The Dyke Road Tavern (recently refurbed bythe same owners) not five miles away and find the exact same ideas made real - as one friend commented, 'it's like they've read a brochure about how to make the ideal gastropub."  He's right, too; it does tick the boxes - no tablecloths, cutlery in a tankard, slightly gauche art and an open fire with no shortage of wood.  However, in The Connaught it just seems to work.  It doesn't feel pretentious, or over-stylised - even the 'supposed-to-look-hand-written-but-really-just-printed' boards evoke a slight classiness that other gastropubs fail to achieve. 

We took our seats in the bar area, as (as so commonly happens to us) we had got up late and missed the window for bookings in the bistro/restaurant.  This didn't matter - the only difference is that on this side, you order by going to the bar - no biggie, considering the bar was three steps away.   They were happy to open a tab, and whilst being friendly, the staff are professional and not-at-all overfamiliar, which means you get your drinks and your orders, but also the feeling you're not just a cow being marched through a cattleshed.  I went for the roast beef after seeing magnificence arrive at the table next to us; my friend Dan plumped for pork belly.  Everyone else followed suit.

As we settled in to our seats, we conversed about the atmosphere of the place.  It can't be ignored - The Connaught is a middle-class paradise.  Whilst we were there, it was relatively quiet, but as the afternoon wore on, more and more families arrived, children in tow - one taking the seat next to us - along with countless young rah-girls and their suitors.  It's safe to say, if you're in any way insulted by money, loud voices or flash cars you won't love it here.  I took umbridge with the man on the next table who insisted I move my empty cider bottle off of 'MY TABLE - it does not belong there!'  This general lack of politeness is prevalent in a lot of the Sunday clientele - maybe they'd all just had a rough night on the Midori, but I didn't appreciate the general 'get off my turf!' vibe that gradually filled the air as time went on.  The children are also allowed to scream.  Loudly.  However, if you head there early, you'll instead be surrounded by quiet groups of friends or couples, which is far more lovely and easier to handle.

Anyway.  The food. 

When my beef arrived, I was taken aback by the sheer pile of it on my plate - juicy, pink slices, crisp at the edges, at least a centimetre thick with barely any fat.  The pork belly was also a winner - a fat slab of salted, crispy fat atop a plump, pink layer of succulent meat.  The gravy was plentiful, but not overwhelming, with a rich aroma of thyme and the vegetables - well.  The vegetables.  The great thing about this place is they're evidently not afraid to experiment.  You name it, we had it - two types of squash, celeriac, carrots, parsnips, potatoes, curly kale - piled high and all boasting rich, powerful flavours.  The squash was nicely crisp and well seasoned; the kale was not at all soggy and coated in the most wonderful, spicy mustard dressing.  The carrots were honeyed and the celeriac al dente.  We even had beetroot (though some protested to that).  It was as if the chef had decided on a whim to chuck everything in the pan with the meats and sprinkle each different flavour atop them before bunging them in the oven - evenly roasted and golden, it looked fantastic. 

The beef was wonderful - it warns you on The Connaught's menu that all of their meat is cooked medium-rare, and that was exactly what we got.  Sourced locally, from a farm down the road, it melted in the mouth, having been seasoned perfectly.  Usually I leave a little fat on my plate, but this time there was nothing to leave - the whole three (three!) slabs were fat-free and juicy and had I been able to, I'd have easily eaten more.  This cow had led a great, great life.  Dan's assessment of the pork belly was similarly glowing - the crackling was, apparently, 'just crisp enough' - not too chewy and fatty, but not too brittle either.  The meat was juicy and not at all tough - it seemed that The Connaught part steam, part roast their pork bellies, which in my eyes is the only way to do it. 

However, the potatoes, though crisp and done on the outside, were a little tough in the middle.  Not raw, but lacking that fluffiness that really makes a good roastie.  The yorkie was huge and evidently home-made, but was far too crisp for my liking - to me, a good yorkie is soggy below and crisp atop, but this was just a ball of air.  It didn't really add anything to the meal and felt rather dry next to all the other, succulent foodstuffs.  Some of the party couldn't get on board with the idea of squash, either, complaining that there were just too many vegetables to choose from.  I suppose it depends what you're after - personally, I relish the variety but if you're more of a traditionalist, then the wide range of veg may just tip you over the edge.

We left dessert, mainly because the roast had rendered us stuffed, but I can definitely recommend the Guinness brownie if you're ever in a pickle.  Divine.

Altogether, this is definitely a foodie's idea of a good roast dinner - experimental, ambitious and packed with flavour.   If you can stomach the sometimes questionable clientele, head for a late afternoon lunch, but if you're the quiet sort, head for early afternoon and you're in for a winner.

8/10

48 Hove St, Hove BN3 2DH
Tel: 01273 206578
Credit/debit cards accepted
Bookings taken for bistro/restaurant; ring early on the day
http://www.connaughtpub.co.uk/

The Victory Inn

Roast Dinner: £9.95-£11.95
Avg drinks prices: Bottle cider £4.05; pint lager £3.90; soft drink £2.30

The Victory is one of my favourite pubs in Brighton. With its open fire, welcoming atmosphere and distinctly 'old man' feel, it retains a lot of character that many bars *coughNewWetherspoonscough* lack nowadays.  With a friendly staff, limited floor space, funny old layout and varied, charity-shop decor, one gets a sense of coming home when they walk through the doors.  It's always warm, there's always someone to chat to and even though it's in the centre of Brighton, it's rarely frequented by idiots - though maybe that has something to do with Shrek, the formidable doorman who can be found there every weekend without fail. Serving real ales, a large selection of wonderful-but-expensive ciders and hosting an annual cheese-and-cider festival, the place attracts a specific but comfortable clientele.  One gets the sense that they could grab a space on the sofa and stay there all afternoon - a great little Winter retreat, though they do have a small terrace out back for the smokers and sun worshippers amongst you.

Recently, The Victory has earned it's Five-Star Score on The Door, which means that it kicks ass when it comes to cleanliness in the kitchens and throughout the bar.  This meant I just had to sample the food.  I started by checking out their chicken burger earlier this year and wasn't disappointed - no processed sh*te in this place; just succulent, perfectly-spiced breast atop a herby ciabatta with glorious wedges of potato.  It was an excellent start, and a good indicator of what was to come when roast time came round.

Here, it's good old-fashioned order at the bar - though the waiting staff are happy to help if needed.

When we finally decided to make our way down there one sunny afternoon, we were delighted to see that they were serving an adventurous menu including ostrich and zebra.  The chef was obviously feeling confident and I always appreciate a deviation from the norm.  However, this doesn't mean I'm always brave, and eventually the lemon and herb chicken tempted me away from the more frivolous options - I mean, come on - who can resist half a chicken?!  I let my good friend Ray sample the ostrich for me and my partner settled for the lamb.  Oddly enough, The Victory also provides veggies with the option of fish pie, which to my veggie friends is a welcome change from nut roasts and mushrooms.  Inspired choice, chef.  All roasts come with 'all the trimmings', and the trimmings sounded phenomenal - creamed parsnips with black pepper, roast potatoes, cabbage, honey roast carrot and the all-important Yorkie.  We were expecting great things to arrive not long after.

When the food arrived we were not disappointed - the wait was adequate to know that the chef hadn't shoved anything into the microwave but not so long that we became bored or, in my case, rage-filled due to hunger.  The food looked succulent, crisp and fresh with a thick, dark gravy filled with herbs.  The Yorkie sat atop, nothing especially huge but still resplendent and soft, keeping slightly crispy edges.  My chicken was crusted with herbs, crisp skin splitting to reveal moist flesh below.  It was an entire half, too - leg and all.  It tasted awesome.  Slightly lemony but not overpowering, with a distinct tast of thyme, it melted off the bone and worked well with the peppery creamed parsnip, which was unusual, but awesome.  The skin was something else - I rarely eat chicken skin but, like The Bath Arms, this was lovely - subtly salted and giving off lovely flavours.

Ray's ostrich - well, I find it hard to comment as I've never really looked at ostrich before.  I have to say, it looked like beef, though a little purple at the edges.  According to Ray, it was 'okay, but a little dry - though I'm not sure that's the chef's fault.'  It did look a little less appetising than the others, mainly due to it being cut like the pre-packed roast beef you get in W**herspoons, but again, I'm not sure that's the chef's fault.

Dan's lamb was crusted with garlic and rosemary, and it was slightly pink, crisp at the edges and thickly cut.  He remarked 'ooh, that's good', whilst devouring a mouthful; praise indeed from such a man.  I did sample a portion and it was lovely - not fatty at all, not chewy - just soft, herby and delicious.

However.  This was not the perfect roast.  And when the letdown came, boy, was it a big one.

The potatoes looked well-done; from the outside they were crisp, slightly charred and waxy.  I was really looking forward to eating them.  However, when I cut into them, they were dry and powdery and needed the assistance of the remaining gravy to help allay the arrid texture.  With the meat, they were ok, but nothing more than just that - ok.  I was expecting phenomenal, and I felt truly let down. After all, spuds are, following the meat and Yorkie, the most important part of the plate - no?

On the whole, though, the portion was a good size and you do get your money's worth at this place.  They don't scrimp on veg - I had a good five carrots on my plate and a hearty lump of cinnamon-spiced cabbage - and they don't drizzle the gravy on, like some pubs do.  You have to hand it to them, they're not stingy.

I do feel that I have to remove some marks from this place for the prices of beverages, though.  Over £4.00 for a bottle of cider might be the shape of things to come in Brighton, but I really do resent it.  It's one of the most expensive 'old man' venues in the city and you do pay for the atmosphere.  A night out post-roast could end up costing a packet.  However, if it's what keeps the idiot army out, then I suppose I should be all for it.

7/10

6 Duke Street, Brighton BN1 1AH
Tel: 01273 326555
Credit/debit cards accepted
Limited seating; get there early

The Alibi

Roast Dinner: £8.95
Avg drinks prices: Bottle Carlsberg £1.25; pint lager £3.05; bottled cider £3.25; soft drinks £1.65
Desserts: Approx £3.50

When I moved to Hove I didn't hold out much hope for the bars and pubs within a few minutes' walk of my front door.  For the most part they look like beer palaces - the type frequented by old lushes with veiny noses who sit outside the doors smoking Woodbines and smelling of wee or cocky chavs wearing battered Reebok Classics and trackie bottoms.   Not that I'm a snob.

However, since then I have been pleasantly surprised by both The Ginger Pig and The Foragers, and so, one post-flu, rainy, cold afternoon, the boyfriend and I decided to take the path of least resistance and head to the localest of our locals - The Alibi.  Resplendent on the corner of Victoria Terrace with a great view of the local Texaco garage and the run-down King Alfred's centre, from the outside it doesn't look much.  However, a week or so earlier I'd spent a lovely snowy afternoon in there and sampled their excellent chips n' cheese, hospitality and selection of board games, so in a time of laziness and boredom it was the natural choice.  Plus, at a whole £2 cheaper than the cheapest meat options in the other Hove establishments, the price also appealed.  It's rare to find a roast for less than a tenner nowadays.

The Alibi is a surprise to behold - with its open fire, stack of old-school games (Guess Who, anyone?), huge outdoor space and comfy sofas, its exterior is deceiving.  The clientele, though slightly chavtastic, are friendly, sociable and fun and the bar staff cannot do enough for you.  They stock a wide range of lagers including cherry beer and Staropramen on tap and whilst their ales aren't up to much, you are still spoilt for choice.  Best of all, if you're a lager fan you can pick up a bottle of Carlsberg for just £1.25 - student prices at their best.  Sometimes it's worth the trek out of Brighton.  They also do a free chilli night every Monday and have a 'build your own burger' menu, boasting a wide range of toppings and flavours, in addition to a highly appealing 'pie of the day' and sausages and mash served in a giant Yorkie.  Ace.

However, we decided to stick with the Sunday tradition and plumped for the roast.  I went for lamb, the boyfriend went for the pork, and expecting perhaps a little less than usual, we waited for our food to arrive.  When it did, we were not disappointed - what sat before us was good, old-fashioned, Nanna's-house-at-the-weekend fare - plump slices of meat, piles of boiled carrots, crispy spuds and a nice, puffed-up Yorkie.  Nothing artistic or gourmet, but just the ticket when you've just got over the 'flu and are feeling a little fragile.

The meat wasn't outstanding, but it wasn't boil-in-the-bag either - though it could have been a little more tender, it wasn't fatty or leathery.  The boyfriend's pork was simple and salty, though the crackling was a little rubbery and could have benefited from a little longer in the oven.  The gravy was proper, meaty gravy complete with a subtle flavour of rosemary and thyme, which complemented the potatoes perfectly. 

Speaking of the potatoes, these were wonderfully crisp and obviously basted in dripping - chewy in the middle and browned at the edges, almost deep-fried in appearance but with a beefy flavour, if a little dry in the middle (though the gravy helped assuage this).  They sat alongside crisp, al dente broccoli (just the way I like it), carrots that still had their bite and a good pile of peas - an unusual addition, but I was willing to give it a go.  However, here was where I was let down - the chef, in his infinite wisdom, had decided to mix the peas with a generous dollop of mint sauce, and in my eyes, mint sauce could well have been invented by the devil himself.  I couldn't bring myself to swallow them down, which was disappointing as I really had got a taste for peas over the course of the meal. 

The Yorkies were large and puffy, but evidently not home-made.  They could have been a lot worse - The Mesmerist's, for example, were small and unimpressive - at least these were of a decent size.  There was a distinctly supermarket-y taste about them, though and it really did let the plate down. 

To look at and to eat, this really is good, old fashioned, no-nonsense food.  The Alibi doesn't try to dress up its food or add impressive flavour combinations, but what it does do is cook the ingredients it does have to perfection.  The meat may not be locally sourced and the veg may be plain, but there's nothing mushy, burned or overcooked about it - certainly better than many could do themselves. 

What makes The Alibi worth the visit isn't really the food, though - it's the atmosphere.  It's rare in Brighton to find a real, old-man pub that isn't full of lushes or 'locals', which serves edible fare and has staff willing to give you the time of day.  The Alibi manages to maintain a friendly, local atmosphere without making you feel outcast, and I'd definitely recommend it for a swift afternoon stop-off.

6/10

22 Victoria Terrace, Hove BN3 2WB
Tel: 01273 733983
Credit/debit cards accepted

The Mesmerist

Roast Dinner: £10.95
Avg drinks prices: Bottle cider £3.60; draught ale £3.40; soft drinks £2.10
Desserts: All £4.50

The Mesmerist is Brighton's newest pub - situated on the site of the old Frankie and Benny's on the South Lanes, just over from the Town Hall, it is a welcome break from the usual haunts that side of town - there's only so much Cafe Rouge, Zizzi or Pablo's a person can take before they start to crave something a little bit different.  The Mesmerist is just that - with bells on.  With it's unique decor - a full suit of armour being the focal point - and it's claim to be Brighton's first 'burleque-themed public house', it truly is, well... Mesmerising.  Boasting a weekly magic club, its own magazine and frequent rockabilly and jazz evenings, it's all very much what Brighton is about and what we have been sorely missing the last few months in the wake of Tesco and Sainsbury's taking over every available patch of land.  Am I glad these people got this site instead of the Tesco demons?  Hell yes. 

What strikes me as impressive about the place is that despite it's unusual, slightly scenester-ish decor, it's not frequented by d*ckheads.  Instead, the clientele are from all generations and walks of life, and this, I believe, is down to the staff.  Friendly, open and no-nonsense, they welcome you with open arms and one gets the feeling that this is not simply because they've only just opened.  The seating is plentiful and varies from tall tables to slouchy sofas, and the space has been utilised well.  The bar is huge and well-stocked, and even the loos are a little bit magical.

We entered on impulse one hungover Sunday afternoon - it was 2 o'clock and neither of us could be arsed to cook, and having spent a couple of fun evenings in the Mesmerist we decided to give it a go.  We took a sofa table by the window and a waitress was over within minutes.  Friendly, affable and sweet, she referred to us as 'sweetheart' and 'darling' (something I personally love) in a way that wasn't pretentious or idiotic.  She wasn't perturbed when we said we didn't want to order anything until the arrival of my brother, and simply left us alone until we called her over when he arrived.

The roasts on offer were the usual, and I plumped for the lamb.  My partner went for the pork belly and my brother, the beef.  We also ordered drinks, which were also brought to the table - the only time we had to get up was to use the loo, which can only be a bonus.  The great thing about this place is that they also run their regular menu on a Sunday, which boasts a selection of pies and mash - on offer this particular day was chicken and asparagus and beef & ale - so there truly is something for everyone.  They call gravy, gravy and make no bones about what to expect - no fancy language or dressing up of the menu (I love that they gave the anglicised version of moules, but spelled 'muscles').

Our roasts took about tweny minutes to arrive - spot on.  Not so long as for me to become rage-filled with hunger, but not too quick so as to send the message that the food has gone from freezer to microwave to plate.  I was impressed.  A nice, ample portion of lamb, slightly pink in the centre, sat atop a selection of colourful (if slightly odd) veg.  My partner's pork belly was magnificent - crispy, nicely browned and salted to perfection; pink in the middle and still succulent.  The beef was medium rare and served in thick wedges.  Props to the chef, as all of the meat was wonderful.  The veg, on the other hand, was a little odd - we had the regular carrots and roast spuds, which were beautiful - the carrots were buttered and sweet, and the potatoes crisp and fluffy - though at 2 small carrots and potatoes per plate, I thought they were being awfully stingy.  The rest, however, was a bit weird - we had cabbage, which was apparently spiced but tasted like liquorice, and some odd cheesy sauce concoction which was smeared on the bottom of the plate.  Put together, these were definitely an acquired taste - one I couldn't get used to.  It was all just a bit... off.  The Yorkies were also a bit of a letdown - to quote a friend who ate there last week, "they're distinctly Aunt Bessie-ish," a little too uniform and overdone for me to truly believe they were homemade.

Despite this, the quality of the meat - locally sourced - made up for the weird taste experience of the veg.  We decided to share a dessert, despite the fact that the roast was more than enough - I always eat more on a hangover.  Man, am I glad we did.  We went for a cherry bakewell slice (an odd one for a pub to serve) with cream, and it was massive.  Huge.  It was also beautiful.  Whatever you do, just don't try to eat a dessert at this place alone, unless you're twenty stone and used to humungous portions. 

To summarise, The Mesmerist is a welcome addition to Brighton, especially during this uncertain time, when the whole city seems to be succumbing to the lure of consumerism and is losing its individuality.  Despite the veg being as odd as the decor, I'd fully recommend a visit for a truly unique and friendly experience.  We even had children sat next to us who were quiet and well-behaved.  It's like the whole place is under a spell. 

And with The Mesmerist having its very own magic club, maybe it is...

8/10

1-3 Prince Albert St, Brighton BN1 1HE
Tel: 01273 328542
Credit/debit cards accepted
www.drinkinbrighton.co.uk/mesmerist

The Ginger Pig

Roast Dinner: £10.00 (Fried sage polenta dish) to £16.00 (Scotch beef)
Avg drinks prices: Bottle house wine £16.00; draught lager £4.05; soft drinks £2.90
Desserts: £5.00 - £7.00

I'd been looking forward to this.  The Gingerman restaurants and public houses are a Sussex institution, and when we moved into a flat that was just over the road from The Ginger Pig, we'd made a vow to visit as soon as possible.  However, warm weather just didn't lend itself well to a roast and so we had no choice but to wait it out, until the temperature dropped and it was no longer time for a barbeque.  I mean, this is an expensive place - we weren't willing to part with our hard-earned until the timing was exactly right.

That time came with the arrival of the in-laws - they were looking for somewhere lovely to eat, and we knew just the right place.  We made our booking and headed there at 1pm - it's wise to get in there early, as it's a popular place and if you don't, you run the risk of choosing from a very limited menu. 

We spent fifteen minutes at the bar before sitting down, which was no big deal - they have an amazing selection of drinks, including organic soft drinks of such adventurous flavours as orange, ginger and elderflower or mango and lime.  Not your average coke on tap, then.  The selection of ales was varied and unique; none of your same-old, same-old here.  The bar staff were attentive and polite and actually took the time to talk to us, and even when we overstayed our welcome (our table was ready and they have an extremely quick turnaround due to the popularity of the place), they did not push us to sit. 

When we got to our table, I was immediately preoccupied with the feel of the place - it's a little like a canteen.  If you like your roasts in a quiet, relaxed setting, this is not the place for you.  The wooden floors and high ceilings provide ample opportunity for the sounds of chatter, cutlery and the clinking of glasses to carry in the air.  However, I liked it - it reminded me of a French cafe, or an Italian trattoria.  OK, so we needed to raise our voices at times, but rather that than complete silence, yes?  Well, I'm biased, I suppose.

I chose to go for the traditional beef dinner, my partner the loin of pork and the in-laws the fish and the beef.  The interesting thing about the Ginger Pig's menu is the disclaimer at the bottom that states that as all meat comes from a local farm, some game dishes 'may contain shot'.  You can't say fresher than that.  Hey, at least you know it's organic and local, even if you do end up with lead in your teeth.  The waitress was patient and attentive and not at all pushy or rude, even when we couldn't decide what to have (honestly, we're the worst customers ever).  She was on hand to offer advice and even make the choice for me when I was truly stumped as to whether to go for the lamb or beef - in my eyes, a good waiter or waitress will always push you towards their favourite, and enthusiastically so, with the ability to comment on flavour, texture and the history of the meat.  She knew it all.

I was expecting brilliance, beauty and an explosion of flavour - the menu, being a typical Gingerman menu, promised original pairings of unusual tastes; a description consisting of extremely middle-class sounding words and farmer-speak that the average Joe would have trouble deciphering.  That's one of my problems with this place - a roast is surely just meat and two veg, at the end of the day, and calling a gravy a jus does not detract from the fact that it is simply a gravy.  The same gravy you'd get anywhere else - meat juice, stock, a bit of wine - why dress it up?  I like the word gravy.  It's warm, and reminds me of childhood Sundays. I bet 90% of the population would say the same.

When my food came, I was slightly disappointed.  The first thing to stand out to me was the sheer amount of meat - this was not a bad thing.  My beef was pink and bloody in the centre and crisp on the outside, served in whopping great slabs at least an inch thick.  The pork loin was juicy and salted and the fish was whole, crisp and stuffed with herbs.  However, the veg was a different story.  I know I said a roast is just a simple meat and two veg, but these guys take that phrase a little too seriously, as that was exactly what I was served - roast potatoes, carrots and green beans (OK, that's three, but I rarely count potatoes as true veg - how can something so full of carbs ever be good for you?).  The carrots and beans were boiled - there was no sense of adventure, no explosion of flavour, no assault on the senses - it was almost as if they'd put so much effort into the meat, they'd forgotten the importance of the veg in the whole thing.  I mean, to me, vegetables are the backbone of the roast - in my time eating roast dinners, I've encountered honeyed carrots, roast parsnips, cider and cinnamon cabbage, braised leeks, roasted butternut squash - a good chef can make a simple green bean seem like nothing else.  It was what I'd expected of the Ginger Pig - a riot in my mouth; especially as I was paying £16.00 for the privilege - but it just didn't happen.  It was slightly lazy and did nothing for me.  Saying that, the potatoes were crisp, slightly burned and gooey in the centre, cooked in beef dripping and sprinkled with herbs and a generous helping of salt and pepper.  The gravy was sweet and exactly right in the seasoning department - not too powerful but a nice backdrop to the whole thing.  The Yorkie was also a highlight - HUGE, crisp and slightly soggy underneath (this is never a bad thing), soaking up the gravy like a sponge.  It was an absolute delight to eat and a welcome change from the overcooked, overcrisp excuses that some places serve.  They'd definitely practised the recipe, and the time spent paid off.

For all my criticism, the roast was a good size - unlike the Foragers, you got enough food for your money to fill you up - and I did feel like I got my money's worth as the amount of beef was simply epic.  The potatoes were special and the table service adds a certain something to the experience - it's nice to be waited on in a pub.  The drinks were different and the service was quick and polite, with smiling staff always on hand to help and assist.  The Yorkies alone are a reason to go!

If you like your meat plentiful, organic and local and you don't really mind having a simple veg accompaniment, then I fully recommend this place - if only to make you grin on a rainy Sunday.

7.5/10

3 Hove St, Hove BN3 2TR
Tel: 01273 736123
Booking absolutely essential, even for a party of two; credit/debit cards accepted
http://www.gingermanrestaurants.com/