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/
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/
