Address: Pug and Gravy, Chiswick
Does anyone pay any attention to what critics write? I popped into Gravy, a new Brit-style pastiche bistro in Chiswick for lunch, shortly after Fay Maschler had given it a fearsome pasting in her column in the Evening Standard, deriding in particular its version of modern British cooking.
As I sat over my snack, Gravy filled up, until people were practically slopping over into the street outside. Were they, like myself, there out of curiosity, to see if a restaurant could be as bad as Ms Maschler had written? Or could it be that they were truly indifferent to scrappy, if anxious-to-please, service, dire food (ill-assorted seared salmon with salad, gherkins, caperberries and shallots; chewy calf's liver with anonymous parsley mash and burnt-tasting thyme gravy) and cud green walls?
I was completely baffled. They appeared to be having a whale of a time, so perhaps it's true that we don't really care about the basic decencies of eating when two courses for lunch costs £9.50.
But Chiswick's gastronomic reputation is in safer hands at Pug, further along the High Street. This is an altogether different item, and evidently it has not been put together on a shoestring budget. The dining room is what you'd call contemporary smart; that is, large and classless, in that crisp, bright, shiny way, with pale Granny Smith-green walls, corn-coloured wooden floor and brown leather chairs, nice, bright waitresses in classic apron, shirt and trouser gear, and plenty of noise bounding off the hard surfaces to build up the buzz. There's a big bar and a lounge ,where you can eat as well as drink, and a semi-open-plan kitchen. It runs with steady confidence, even though it was scarcely unwrapped when I went there for a solitary supper.
Every so often, I like a solitary supper, if you can be solitary with the teeming pages of Moby Dick open before you on the table. It may limit the number of courses that I can try, but - and this may come as a surprise to some of you - I don't really like making a complete pig of myself on every occasion. So it was the poached duck's egg salad with crispy chorizo and Parmesan croutons, followed by grilled chicken with roasted pumpkin, pumpkin seeds and gravy, followed by a bitter chocolate pot with Charbelli biscuits.
This is the kind of food that goes under the general heading of modern European, I suppose, as opposed to modern British, although the difference between them is a how-many-angels-can-you-get- on-the-head-of-a-pin kind of debate. Sometimes I have trouble with the fluid nature of some so-called modern cooking, because too often it doesn't seem to be rooted in any discernible culture, and the taste of the chef is so dubious as to render all ingredients to a kind of indeterminate mish-mash.
Brian Baker, the chef/proprietor of Pug, is a man who has been round the block a few times (Hambleton Hall, The Criterion, The Abingdon, The Depot, and two years as Sir Elton John's private chef), and he has a fair idea of what works and what doesn't. The kitchen has its feet firmly on mainland Europe, even if occasionally the menu strays into the Middle East, as with Moroccan-spiced lamb with herb and lime couscous, or even as far afield as the Far East with a honey and soy dressing for a mushroom and goat's cheese salad.
Each dish had a clear sense of identity based on sound technical skill and sensible gastronomic ambitions. In other words, it tasted good. The salad base was a fine mix of good quality leaves complemented by a fine dressing. The emollient egg and the saucy chorizo performed a bit of a ying and yang act to add interest, while the challengingly sized Parmesan croutons added a touch of ballast.
The grilled chicken and roasted pumpkin was more thought- provoking, but not what you would call seriously novel. The meat was from a bird of good breeding, and it had been expertly cooked to give nice burnt bits on the outside and nice succulent bits on the inside.
Pumpkin in the roasted form has a mild earthiness that sits well with burnt chicken. In addition, there were a couple of slivers of crisp pancetta, which served to introduce a salty note, and a good gravy to round things off. It would be a mistake to over-analyse a dish of this kind, but it is right to appreciate the intelligence that goes into devising it.
The bitter chocolate pot finished off the theme of warm comfort very nicely, the chocolate having just enough bitterness and concentration to take the edge off the richness. There was a sensible wine list, and my bill came to £25, which included a couple of glasses of wine, water and coffee.
There is a set lunch, two courses for £9.95 - not far off the price for the same offering at Gravy, but with the cooking and service in a different league. There's also a three-course dinner currently available for £14.95, which shows a worrying upward price trend - the press release at opening quoted three courses for £13.50, but it had reached £14.50 on the night I went there, and has continued to rise since.
In spite of this, Pug represents both a handsome and intelligent addition to the eating scene. Just in case anyone wants to know.
