5 / 5
The RMT did their best to thwart this trip. Yet another bloody Tube strike makes it hard for those of us out (South) West to get to Farringdon, London’s most inaccessible transport hub. It would have been so different if the NIMBYs of Richmond had not got their way. Crossrail (now the Elizabeth Line), would have stopped 5 minutes from my house, and I would be in Farringdon in half an hour, instead of the hour and a half it took me criss-crossing London on trains laid down on old freight tracks. Crossrail? Lividrail, more like.
Anyhow, I was only 15 minutes late for my lunch date, and I had warned my companion that I would be delayed, time which he put to good use by quaffing a fistful of St John house lager.
Whitewash, Horses Optional
It’s a great little spot, clearly once a stable or similar. The only concession to updating it apart from the removal of the horses is the application of vast amounts of whitewash. Fortunately the day was grey, and I did not need my sunglasses as I walked into the airy bar. The restaurant itself is just up a small flight of stairs, into a darker dining room, sparsely furnished, but what more do you need than a table and 2 chairs?
Dessert Island Discs
I am going to ruin the rest of the review by saying that if you said I was going to be locked into one restaurant for the whole of the rest of my life (Dessert Island Discs?), this would probably be the one I chose. I should choose Riva in Barnes, but I bet their bacon sarnies would not be as good. St John philosophy is full snout to tail, and let me tell you, I indulged that con gusto.
A Wine Standoff Resolved
My friend and I have completely different ideas of what wine should taste like. If we’re drinking red, he likes something which is pale enough to pass for rosé, whereas I like something that you’d expect to see bubbling in a witch’s cauldron. White seemed safer (we have found commonish ground on this in the past), and I overruled his kvetching about the Cote du Rhone (he doesn’t like the red version, to show you what a wuss he is), and ordered that. Absolutely perfect choice. My only slight reservation is that the bottle wasn’t put on ice, just on the table, but then they might have known how quickly my friend can empty a bottle…
The Nasty Bits (And Why They Win)
I continued on the nasty bits of animal theme, and had pig’s cheeks (literally the bits of pig under the eyes), rind on. It is impossible to describe what an incredible mouth feel this has, crispy and chewy at the same time. I ordered some greens on the side, a dish appearing far too regularly (due to cost) and badly (due to incompetence) in many restaurants. These, however, were perfectly cooked, and I ended up finishing the last few with my fingers.
My friend had John Dory, a perfectly delightful fish, and he seemed to enjoy it greatly, but when I think of St John I think “meat, meat, meat”. I’m certainly not wasting a trip here on the militant vegetarian wing of the family.
Coffee was adequate, but I was here to eat meat, and I hugely enjoyed it. Service was attentive (until we tried to pay the bill, strangely), friendly and knowledgeable. All told it was an impossible to beat experience. There are a few branches, and I am hoping that they will venture their trotters out to Richmond one day, so I can get a debenture table…
Conclusion
Overall Rating: 5/5
- Drinks: 4.5/5
- Service: 5/5
- Ambience: 4.5/5
- Value for Money: 4.5/5
- Price: £££
- Would I come back? Would I ever leave?!
St John, Smithfield: https://stjohnrestaurant.com/a/restaurants/smithfield
