The Anchor & Hope
36 The Cut, London, SE1 8LP
Reviews for The Anchor & Hope
I was very excited about my visit to The Anchor and Hope as it came very recommended. So what better than a romantic meal out with the other half on Friday night. Good food and amazing company surely can't fail to satisfy?
I had been warned that they didn't take reservations, and as I peered into the overflowing bar my fingers were tightly crossed for a table. And as luck would have it two seats were available immediately... on a table of six with two other couples. So much for the romantic meal.
The tightly packed dining room is gastropub classic with wooden tables and odd chairs and wine served in goblets (unless you buy the expensive stuff). For such a small dining area there were a lot of staff dashing around in what I'm hoping was organised chaos - although despite the numbers it was hard at times to grab someones attention.
As per usual I was taking sneaky peeks at other people's tables and food... probably very rude, but who cares. The menu isn't hugely varied, lots of meat and fish, but all the portions looked very healthy indeed.
So to the food.
Starters were a Radicchio and Saffron Risotto and Pigs Head Vinaigrette. "Pigs head" I hear you cry. Well not a whole one. It was really just brawn. Served at room temperature the fat was tepid and unappetising. The risotto was more of an oily rice, not the creamy indulgence I was expecting. It was certainly stuffed with saffron though.
Mains were several notches up. Both the Half Lobster and Corn on the Cob and the Baked Wild Sea Trout with Beetroot and Samphire were glittering combinations of taste and colour. The sweet succulent lobster meat performing a little tango with the most amazing corn I've had for a long time - crunchy and sweet - all moulded together with melted butter. The cold sea trout dish produced a perfectly cooked fish with the tingling surprise of pickled cucumber and sweet beetroot.
But the hit of the evening had to be the dessert. Strawberry Tart. But not just any strawberry tart. The Strawberry Tart. Buttery melt in your mouth pastry encasing a moist hazelnut filling topped with juicy strawberries. You'll be pleased to know that I did share with my other half, but only a couple of fork-fulls and only because his cheese platter really wasn't up to much.
At £85 for two including a bottle of wine I found it a bit steep. This is certainly a restaurant to come as a group with excellent deals like a whole roast seabass or rib of beef for two or a seven hour lamb shoulder to share with 4 of your closest friends.
Food 3.5/5 - The Strawberry Tart gave the edge
Service 3/5 - A bit slow but very cheery
Environment 3/5 - Typical gastropub just small and tight.
We decided to decend upon the Anchor and Hope where our 8.45 arrival did little to keep us sober. A bottle of wine later we sat our table and chose a boars head terrine, warm pigeon salad and a main of Cassoulet. The starters were excellent and the Cassoulet was OK. Perhaps I have eaten too much Cassoulet in and around Toulouse, as this version whilst enjoyable just wasn't as gutsy as those I have enjoyed in the past. From memory the Cheese (especially the Stichleton) held it's own against the Corbieres.
We'd tried a number of times to get a table at The Anchor & Hope, but had always given up after waiting more than the length of time it takes to have a drink. Today we were determined to wait for a table and lo and behold, one turned up within 10 minutes. Result! And that's where it all turned bad.
After a number of calamities including being served our mains before the starters, being left for 30 minutes between courses, no plates picked up, no cutlery, courses arriving at different times etc. we were finally asked when paying the bill if we'd enjoyed our meal.
We rather delicately tried to say, 'no, actually, we've had quite a few problems with the service', to which we were told that they would bear that in mind without even asking what was wrong before skulking off. Not until we complained to the manager did we at any point get any sort of apology for the way our lunch turned out. In fact, up until that point we'd been treated as though we were a positive annoyance to actually serve.
I completely understand that sometimes things don't work out as planned on a restaurant floor, but to treat your customers with such contempt as we received today was beyond the pale.
The food? Alright to quite nice. Nowt special.
You'll find the experience underplayed from the moment you walk in and you may have reservations about blowing this sort of money on a pub meal unless you've read the reviews or just stood and watched the open kitchen goings on.
Get in early for dinner to beat the crowds and pick from a blackboard of fresh ingredients.
It isn't fine dining, being more old fashioned rib-sticking yesteryear style-home cooking. It is fine food though, with some very original twists and generously served by knowledgable, friendly staff.
A four course £30 Sunday lunch can be pre-booked and they will tell you what's on the set menu a couple of days beforehand. Sit down after a lunchtime pint at two and enjoy the next couple of hours.
Went to the A&H for a quick lunch so I didn't have time to eat a full meal (though I had a taste of my companions') I had the snails with leven(sp) bread and duck fat toast. It was hearty, interesting and good value at £7, though it lacked seasoning. My collegue ordered smoked sprats with horseradish, it looked fantastic, wished I'd ordered it as she sent it back for being 'too fishy'.They gracefully took it back (even though she'd poked it!) I had a taste of the terrine served with gherkins which was a great texture and lovely tasting. The salad with goats curd looked a mess and was ok tasting at best. But the service was quick and flawless and I would definately go back with foodie friends and try some of their main course.
The Anchor and Hope has a lot of good things going for it, but the seating arrangements aren't one of them. There's a no booking policy, so the best places are dealt out on a first-come first-served basis. This means that if you are a couple there's a very good chance that after one of the two (!) tables for two are taken you will be sat antisocially close to good number of complete strangers on a large table by the kitchen while the waiting staff and diners on their way to the toilets periodically elbow you in the back of the head. This is the second time this year I've tried to eat at the Anchor & Hope; last time we could only stand the physical assault for five minutes - just long enough to try the bread and butter - then gave up and scurried off into the night. Still, free bread, can't complain.
This time, things went a great deal better. We had a nice quiet table for two in the corner, the back of our heads remained mercifully elbow-free throughout the evening, and most importantly we felt comfortable enough to stay long enough to sample the food, which turned out to be very good indeed. Just look at this menu:
Snails, tripe, quince, pheasant, partridge, hazelnuts, chestnuts and beetroot. It's a foodie's wet dream of perfectly pitched seasonal dishes, the odd eyebrow-raising unusual ingredient and heartwarming wintery goodness. It's the kind of food that wraps you up in a nice blanket in front of the fire when it's snowy outside. I wanted to try literally everything on this menu, and by the end of the evening it almost felt like I had, but in the end plumped for the pot-roast partridge with cabbage, bacon and chestnuts.
Truth be told the meat on the partridge was a little dry, but the surrounding broth was comforting, and the flavour of the caramelised onions and bacon strong and satisfying. With plenty of stock to smother the partridge meat this plate of food disappeared very quickly. The kind of thing I could eat every day as it felt incredibly hearty and healthy as well as tasty, partridge meat being pretty lean. This could not be said of a companion's lamb and beans dish, which was thick with cream but just as tasty.
Next I ordered the buttermilk pudding, which turned out to be an Anglicised panacotta with an accompaniment of sweet oranges, heady with alcohol. There were quite a few pips in the orange which I suppose would put some people off but I thought it added to the rustic charm of the dish. The buttermilk itself was just right - fluffy and not too sweet. However although tasty a companion's "Flourless chocolate cake" was incredibly dense and it was a bit of a struggle to get through it. Perhaps it was missing an ingredient... something that would lighten it a bit... oh yes, flour.
I know from experience we were lucky to get a comfortable corner table, and a majority of diners here will have to put up with a rather less than perfect environment to eat their food. But if this is the business model at the Anchor and Hope then good luck to them - it's clearly a very successful one, and goes to show that for many Londoners the environment comes secondary to the food. And quite right too.
Most people in London have their favourite place they will end up going to every other month - or even more frequently. The Anchor and Hope is my choice.
A wonderful informal buzzy atmosphere that will suit those people who are more bothered by what appears on a plate in front them rather than white linen, overly-attentive service and the spotlessness of the toilets.
Anchor and Hope quite simply does large, rugged, gutsy portions of exceptionally good food. Rather than dwell on one particular meal, here's some regular fayre:
Starters: Crab on toast, Bacon, snail and watercress salad, Beetroot and horseradish salad, Terrine, Artichoke vinaigrette
Mains: Rib of beef (served medium rare) and big chips for two, shoulder of lamb for five-ish - served in a huge earthenware pot to serve yourself - with a large tray of pommes dauphinoises (I would say this is their signature dish), leg of kid "saltimbocca" (wrapped in prosciutto) with minted courgettes, and a wonderful cassoulet.
Desserts: Flourless chocolate cake Queen of Puddings, various home-made ice-creams and a generous cheese-plate.
All of the above served by knowledgeable, humourous, friendly staff who, yes, occasionally may forget the odd order (happened maybe twice in about 15 visits) but the food is the main attraction in any case. The place is always full, always buzzing and is an absolute bloody joy that I couldn't give anything other than 5 stars. No reservations allowed (even to Kevin Spacey performing up the road at the Old Vic) so get there at 6pm to guarantee a seat. Get a sharing meal for 6 of you at should typically set you back around £40 a head.
Enjoy !
There are few destination Gastro pubs in Britain. Some of us are lucky enough to have some near our homes.
Apart from The Eagle on Farringdon Road where on some days you can get a beautifully cooked "Onglet" with a red wine and shallott reduction , I would normally not cross town for a Gastro Pub meal. However I'm now finding I need a fix at least once a week.
It's a place where you can enjoy "world class" bourgeois cooking like , Cassoulet , Ox Cheek stew with Dumplings , Slow cooked Tamworth ( along with Gloucsester Old Spot the only edible pork in Britain) with sauerkraut , Lanchashire Hot Pot , great soups and decent deserts. Go in a group and share some of the dishes for 4 or 3 that come in rustic looking pipping hot Le Creuset cookware !
The people who run the place have excellent backgrounds at The Eagle and the St John.
Fantastic place. What a gastropub should be. A great restaurant with a menu with a difference. Many unusual dishes are served.
The food is great and seems reasonably priced considering. Excellent wine list too. As the Guardian put it:
"Ham and figs; cockles; chorizo and chard broth; terrine; monks' cheeks, clams and bacon; beetroot, watercress and horseradish salad; Bath chap and pickled onion; smoked herring and lentils; pumpkin risotto; leg of lamb and flageolet beans; tripe and chips; smoked Old Spot chop and prunes; devilled kidneys and potato cake; plaice, leeks and herbs; grouse; braised venison and red cabbage; cassoulet (for four); green salad; duck fat potato cake; lentils; lemon cake; crème caramel; cheese. I make no apology for quoting the entire menu of the Anchor & Hope.."
Highly recommended.
I've been gagging to go to the Anchor and Hope for bloody ages. It hasn't helped that Oli who sits opposite me at work has now been twice and reminds me of it as often as he forgets to make me tea! So this week the perfect excuse to go came up. Mum rang out of the blue and asked if Cowie and I wanted to go to the theatre on Friday night at the Old Vic... and would we like to go for an early supper as well.
Now the thing everyone always says about the Anchor and Hope is, get there early and be prepared to queue. So we arranged to meet at 6 in order to be able to scoff down two courses and a slurp some wine before doing battle with an obscure Spanish play full of transexuals and transvestites!
Typically I arrived late because of a marathon, delayed conference call, to find everyone already assembled and ready to order on my behalf! I soon put an end to that and opted for potted crab on toast followed by roast Middlewhite pork with crackling... although in my haste I had meant to say pot roasted pigeon! It's weird what comes out of your mouth under pressure sometimes. But the thing with their menu is that you could have accidentally ordered anything on it and come up trumps.
The dining room is literally curtained off from the rest of the pun a bit like the scene in Hamlet where Polonius gets stabbed, or the division on planes between business class and thrift. I guess it makes it easy to open the whole venue out of necessary and also gives the room a nice relaxed texture. Tables are plain wood and chipboard and I don't think any of the chairs match. It's just how I like things. I think the Japanese have an expression for it called "Wabi Sabi"... which is a celebration of the imperfect. It makes you feel at ease with your surroundings, happy to be wearing trainers, late, in a rush and keen to enjoy some gorgeous food.
We loved the mini school glasses for wine. They must be so much easier to dish wash and are almost unbreakable. Practical. That's the word for this place. Practical. Very British.
Cowie's crayfish arrived looking like beasts out of hell... dangerous little claws and deep, blood red in colour. She must have had half a dozen of the little devils on her plate alongside her small glass of garlicy mayonaise... I managed to steal one of them, purely for reporting purposes of course, and can reveal that they were far less sweet and saline than langoustines... more earthy and really juicy. I remember reading an article about them saying that they are impostors from America an are decimating our native versions. If this is right then good on the Anchor and Hope for perpetuating the cull... if not, well they're tasty little lobsters!
My crab on warm buttered brown toast was exquisite. Slurpy, salthy, sweet, well textured and plenty of it. You'd have to go a long way to better it. The only times I have had better crab have never been in this format. My crab at the Riverside in Dorset was stunningly fresh and showstoppingly good, as was wok steamed crab with ginger, chilli and black bean sauce on Lamma Island off Hong Kong. But this was the best potted crab on toast that I've eaten... Yum.
Mum had terrine which she said was OK and Suz had a salad that almost filled the entire table which kept her quiet for 10 minutes so it must have been good!
The next door table ordered a leg of kid. It arrived looking slighly smaller than a leg of lamb and was greeted with great reverence by the table of four men keen to devour their meat. A chap in a red jumper did such a bad job of carving that Dad was tempted to offer his assistance but instead declared that it made him ill to even watch someone carve that badly! He was carving with the grain, giving his mates vast hunks of meat rather than Dad's slender chunks! Schoolboy! If you're going to order a whole leg of goat you'd better practice your public carving skills in advance!
Cowie and Suz shared an enormous fish soup from a communual couldron that could have been a prop in Macbeth. The vast pot was chock full with gunard, mussels, scallops and all sorts of other goodies and probably made from the stock of Cowie's crayfish!
Mum and Dad tucked into their Dover Soles with equal enthusiasm. Two each seemed excessive but neither complained. They looked beautifully cooked and judging by the lack of commentary from Dad must have met with his approval. His laparotamy on both fish was perfect so they must have been cooked perfectly.
My pork arrived to a small sqeal from Cowie when she realised that it wasn't a dish for two. I valiantly tucked into my enormous mound of swine savouring every forkfull of juicy, tender white meat and light crunchy crackling. It's hard to do the crackling justice using words alone. It was as light as a wafer, warm, crisp and simply divine. I'll never forget it. Simply spectacular.
This was British cooking at its most authentic. Top quality ingredients. No mucking around and posh French names. Just good, solid, brilliantly cooked food in a charming, low key setting.
I simply can't wait to go back so we can spend more time enjoying it... and to do some carving! Luckily Mum and Dad enjoyed it so they are keen too!
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Sunday lunches here are a real treat...bring the papers and settle in for a lengthy feast extraordinaire...