Month: June 2019

Birmingham Top 50 Restaurants

I don’t know why I do this to myself. What idiot thinks they can do a top 50 restaurant list and not come under fire from every angry chef who expects to be higher placed? That’s right, this idiot. It’s a list I’m willing to stand by – a carefully constructed list of what I believe to be the best places. I’ve eaten at all listed, so no place for Nocturnal Animals as I’m still to go, and the likes of Opus and Zen haven’t been visited in recent enough years to qualify. Go easy on me, please.

50. Blue Piano


Let’s be real about Blue Piano, they have one great dish and a menu full of dishes that are merely good in comparasion. That one dish – a savoury carrot cake – is worth the trip alone. It’s a stonker which can’t be appreciated until it’s tried. Follow it up with a tour around South East Asian classic dishes from a living room in Edgbaston, or just order more carrot cake. I know what my choice would be.

49. Lasan


A good neighbourhood restaurant seemingly still trading off dishes made famous by the previous Head Chef. Beautifully redecorated and with a servicable cocktail menu, it is a nice place to enjoy more conventional Indian food.

48. Buonissimo


A proper neighbourhood restaurant just off Harborne High Street. The owner knows the name of everyone who has dined here, and greets them in such a manner that suggests he may be their secret father. They do some stuff better than others, but on the whole it’s a wholesome tribute to the marginally anglicised Italian food that the majority of this country believe is ‘authentic’.

47. Rico Libre


Slightly schizophrenic tapas restuarant in the very spot my mother and father met, so extra bonus points for that. The menu is a voyage that never sits still: jerk mingles with raw dishes and then zips back over to the Canary Isles for roasted quail with mojo sauce. I’ve come to realise that this isn’t the most refined of food, but none of this matters; it’s always the joyous atmosphere that makes the trip to Rico worthwhile.

46. Fazenda


On paper somewhere that serves unlimited amounts of carved meat isn’t really my bag, but I’ve been four times since they opened and Fazenda is good. It’s very good. The meat is generally of high standard, accurately cooked and then carved. And that salad bar, fresh and well maintained. Disclosure; most of the four times have been driven by the want of the Malbec which is exclusive to them and is an absolute peach.

45. The Karczma


They have a rug on the ceiling. They have free lard to spread on bread. They have lots and lots and lots of Polish vodka. Yes, you may be the only person not wearing white Levis and a Helly Hanson puffer jacket, but don’t let that put you off. This is wholesome Polish food at it’s best.

44. Umami


It’s not cheap, but it is a very good Indian restaurant in an expensive part of town. On the rare occasions we’re feeling flush we’ll drive over to Harborne from Moseley to pick up a takeaway from here, which is as much a compliment as you need. The fish dishes in particular are excellent.

43. Sabai Sabai


For all the talk of ‘real’ Thai food, which is often delivered by middle class white boys who once backpacked through the Northern regions, it’s nice to have somewhere that does the food of the Southern islands well, cooked by Thai chefs, and served by a team who understand hospitality. I have a lot of time for Sabai Sabai, especially so the Moseley site which is cosy and ultra-consistent.

42. Shabbabs


A very popular question I get asked is “are you still a member of a gym?”. Another is “what is the best balti in Birmingham?”. The answer to both is “SHABBABS” which makes considerable more sense with the latter than the former. Best enjoyed in large groups around 11pm with a table-sized naan and several baltis. Cans of lukewarm Carling from the off licence around the corner are optional.

41. Asha’s


Yes, the prawn bhuna is £21. Yes, that is a lot of money for a curry. Yes, it is worth it. There is more exciting Indian food to be had in Birmingham, but for those looking for a plush curry with good meat and excellent breads, this is my pick in the city.

40. Ngopi


Wonderfully cheap cafe in a corner of town best experienced through the visors of a suit of armour. Everything is under a fiver; pretty much everything will be new to those unfamilar with Indonesian cuisine. Whilst instant noodles with beef and cheese will never be my thing, I’ll never tire of the fried prawn dumplings. Excellent coffee, too.

39. Purecraft Bar and Kitchen


A few years ago Purecraft was probably my favourite place to go in Birmingham. Although the city has caught up, it’s still very good; turning out unfussy food and beers to the more discerning of clientele. The connection to Simpsons is strong; the produce is excellent and the technique strong. My Dad likes it in there, an achievement because he can complain about everything.

38. Sky By The Water


Sticking a signature restaurant on the top level of Resorts World was always going to tricky, but they’ve nailed it. The menu is a list of things that work together, prepared with the kind of classic French technique we don’t see enough of. Maybe the jewel in the crown is the pastry section, headed-up by ‘Bake-Off, The Professionals’ Darryl Collins. If you leave without trying his salted caramel chocolates you’ve failed.

37. Palmyra


Want the best falafel, fuul, and fattoush in the city? You need to come here. I’m a fan, mostly because I can feed two people for under a tenner. The meat dishes arent quite at the level of the veggie stuff, but this is a classy place for Syrian food.

36. Ken Ho


I won’t pretend to be an expert on Chinese food, so we’ll keep this one super short: super good dim sum. Probably my favourite in China Town, but then again I know nothing.

35. Andersons


If charred bits of cow are your thing, then no.35 on this list should be your number one. The best steak house in Birmingham by a distance, the meat is well sourced and equally well cooked. It’s a shame that I don’t get overly excited by steak, or else I’d be here a lot more frequently.

34. Chung Ying Central


The cold hard truth about this city is that good Chinese food could not be found outside of Chinatown. Chung Ying Central changed that; bringing the quality food they were famous for to the business district. The standards are still the same, except this is in far nicer surroundings, with a nice bar stocked with quality drinks. I know it would be far cooler for me to put in some backstreet restaurant where no English is spoken, but I like the deep booths and the fact that the staff smile and treat me like I’m wanted. It’s a bloody good restaurant.

33. The Plough


Have The Plough ever turned out a bad dish? I’m not sure they have. The reason why it’s busy every single day is because they never miss a beat. They have tacos and pizzas and beers and cubanos; the kind of food you want to eat alongside Birmingham’s most expensive pint. The people of Harborne have it lucky, The Plough is pretty much the perfect pub.

32. Early Bird


The question of brunch is a big one in Birmingham. The answer is easy; Early Bird is the best by a distance. They do sweet better than they do savoury, and they happen to do savoury very well indeed. Superb cakes, a healthy ethos on keeping wastage to a minimum and some solid cooking (ginger marinated bacon sarnies anyone?). I always order too much because everything is so good.

31. Pint Shop


I’ve never had a bad meal in Pint Shop. I’ve never had an average meal here either. I’m particulary partial to the kebabs, but then the burgers are also very good. And the scotch eggs whilst I think about it. And the sausage rolls. You get the gist. The potential choices here are huge; it’s making them which is the hard part.

30. Otto


My girlfriend misses living around the corner from these. Maybe that’s her way of telling me she wants to get back with her ex. Crap. Really superb pizzas topped with carefully sourced ingredients. I’d love this place to be within walking distance. Maybe I’ll get with her ex.

29. Tap and Tandoor


A genuine game changer; take the standard desi fare and make it with quality meat. The results are stunning; some of the best chicken tikka you’ll eat and seekh kebabs that taste strongly of lamb. The butter chicken will knock five years off your life so order two and save the kids a decade of visiting you in a home.

28. Legna


If I haven’t been murdered by a chef and this list reappears next year, I expect Legna will be much higher. At the moment its a little inconsistent, but when it is good it is mindblowingly so. My call would be to stick the pasta which is made fresh everyday and treated to Aktar Islam’s refined take on Italian food. This isn’t traditional Italian, but an homage from a chef who loves cooking this style of food. Beautiful dining room to boot, too.

27. Bonehead


The best fried chicken in Birmingham award isn’t a difficult one to attain, but it is one that Bonehead has ran away with. Free range birds, brittle batters, served from a concise menu in a dive bar setting. It’s real good fun.

26. Hen and Chickens


Not the first desi pub in Birmingham, but the first to make tracks into the city centre. Some people will say they prefer it when it was a little grubby and the prices were cheaper, but those people are idiots. The mixed grills are the reason why people come here in hordes, though the curries aren’t shabby either.

25.  Marmaris


Birmingham’s best Turkish food is served in a chip shop style location next to a Wetherspoons. Wasn’t expecting that was you? Me neither. Stick to the skewers of grilled meat and you’ll have a great time here, they are all excellent. Yes, you might be sat next to an angry taxi driver, or a drunk from next door, but this all adds to the fun. It’s a gem.

24. Little Blackwood


I cried for weeks when they closed Cheval Blanc. I had nothing to worry about; Little Blackwood is everything you want from a neighbourhood restaurant, getting better and better with every new menu release every month. How chef Ben Taylor manages to produce food of this standard from a kitchen the size of my bathroom is beyond me. One to keep an eye on and could well be Birminghams first Bib Gourmand.

23. Baked in Brick


After cleaning up every award possible in the streetfood world, the transition to oning a restaurant has been seamless. The staple might be very good pizzas, but don’t overlook other dishes; in particular the chicken tikka flatbreads, or the best Sunday roast in Birmingham.

22. El Borracho de Oro


Charming Spanish restaurant that oozes class. What makes it special is an understanding of seasonality, taking the best of this country’s produce and turning it into plates that still feel true to its cuisine. Grab a few friends and pre order the whole suckling pig – it is superb.

21.  Oyster Club


If the goal of Oyster Club was to prove that Birmingham could finally have a properly class fish restaurant, they’ve suceeded. Utilising the fish suppliers from their sister restaurant, Adams, the produce is king here; treated simply and cooked with total precision. It’s pricey, but worth it. The fish and chips is about as good as life gets.

20. Laghi’s Deli


The fact that Laghi’s is the only ‘Italian’ restaurant in Birmingham to make fresh pasta speaks volumes. Classical and unapologetic, the best meals here are the ribbons of taglietelle with ragu, or the authentic carbonara that has high spec guanciale bound in a dressing of just warm egg yolk. A real taste of Northern Italy.

19. Atrium at UCB


It’s impossible to overlook the importance of the UCB in this city. Without them churning out the finest of chef talent, we wouldn’t have the five Michelin stars. It’s at Atrium where most of these chefs cut their teeth, a smart restaurant that is far too cheap for it’s own good. A meal here is a glimpse at the next generation, and a tasty one at that.

18. Caneat


I have no idea what goes on inside Dom’s head, but the results at Caneat are always staggering. He gets acidity and umami, understands the importance of texture. He’s a proper chef. Stirchley is super lucky to have Caneat; it’s the kind of place that would thrive anywhere.

17. Poli


Everything about Poli excites me. They’ve nailed the pizza, the small plates are superb, and the wine choices impeccable. It’s the best opening in Birmingham this year. I plan on spending a lot of time there.

16. Peels at Hampton Manor


Had I been to Peels more than once it is likely they would have been much higher. The meal we had was very good; precise and loaded with flavour. Coming here is an experience from the welcome drinks in the conservatory, through to dinner in the handsome dining room. Thoroughly deserving of its Michelin star.

15. The Wilderness


My mate Jim reckons this is the best restaurant in Brum, a statement that many others echo. It defies convention: rock plays loudly in the dining room, dishes are paired with cocktails, and dishes occasional contain profanities – “Oh Bollocks” for dessert anyone? The food has a touch of DiverXO about it; in your face and boldly presented. Everyone should eat at The Wilderness at least once.

14. Dezhou Style Braised Chicken

The clue is in the name for the signature dish here. Utterly brilliant chicken in a broth with noodles made fresh to order. Don’t neglect the rest of the menu; it’s all excellent, even the dishes that on paper might not sound appealing. World’s loveliest owners.

13. Zindiya


I really love Zindiya. We have it about once a week, and have nailed our order; chicken tikka, aloo tikki chaat, chilli paneer. It never lets us down. In a city brimming with Indian ‘streetfood’ restaurants, Zindiya stands head and shoulders above the competition

12. Original Patty Men


Drake loves an OPM and for good reason. Cult classic burger stuff in an archway in Digbeth. Superb patty with crazy level attention to detail. No list for top burgers in the UK would be complete without OPM.

11. The Meat Shack


Humble brag time; I have a mate who is a Michelin starred chef who swears that the R’n’B is the best plate of food in the city. It is a corker. Big flavoured burgers that crucially let the beef shine.

10. Gaijin Sushi


Sushi isn’t really my gig, but even I can appreciate the level of skill here. The knife work of the chef is a sight to witness, and he utilises his previous tenure at the fish market to source only the best of ingredients. The rave reviews it’s getting up and down the country are fully justified.

9. Simpsons


The original of the starred restaurants shows no sign of slowing down, churning out classical combinations with a few modern touches. I’ve been coming here consistently for a over a decade because it’s a personal favourite of mine.

8. Folium


Folium gave me one of my best meals of the past year; a complex, technically sound riot that showed chef Ben Tesh’s Nordic-esque use of bright acidity. Service is totally charming and in the celeriac riff on carbonara they have a future classic. Seems a given it will get a star later on this year.

7. Kilder


Kilder is pretty much perfect. Choose anything from the short menu and it will be executed with the level of detail usually associated with far grander establishments. It is the proof that when done properly a sausage roll, a pork pie, or a cheese toastie can be as good as any other dish.

6. Purnells


Glynn Purnell sees the world differently to you and I. He has a Willy Wonka like ability to see the humour in the smallest of detail, and transmit that onto the plate. But this is very much a serious restaurant led by one of the stars of the industry, Sonal. A meal here will guarantee to make you smile, a detail too often overlooked.

5. Tiger Bites Pig


It’s number five for a simple reason; when I think about food, my mind goes immediately to here. Not a day goes by when I don’t want the braised beef with confit egg yolk, or the unctuous pork belly. It’s better than Bao in London, something I thought I’d never say in this city.

4. Opheem


Aktar Islam’s progressive Indian is a special restaurant destined for accolades of the highest order. It rewrites what we consider to be this style of food, with complex spiced dishes created with the most modern techniques. Opheem is for me the best Indian food not just in Birmingham, but the entire country.

3. Adams

There are people who would expect Adams at number one, and I understand that completely. In my opinion they are the closest of all our restaurants to Birmingham’s first two Michelin starred restaurant, delivering the precise, intricate style which the guide love to promote. They have an incredible front of house team; polished and knowledgeable, backed up by a stellar wine list. It is impossible to find fault with it as a restaurant. But there are two other places that raise my pulse just a little higher. That said, if you want the complete Michelin experience in Birmingham, it is Adams you should be hunting out first.

2. Harborne Kitchen


If money were no object and this blog didn’t require me to eat at the arse ends of the food spectrum, I’d be at Harborne Kitchen to eat every single week. That’s why it’s number two on this list. It is a rare treat of a restaurant which blurs the line between casual and smart, where shorts are perfectly acceptable clothing, staff will have a giggle with you, and the food speaks for itself. The cuisine is hard to define; modern, it struts confidently around the continents. The wagyu lasagne from the start of the year remains one of the best things I have ever eaten.

  1. Carters


The first time I ate in Carters it struck me as a homage to the places they were eating at – it was all a bit familiar. But something has clicked into place over the last few years, Brad Carter is now cooking food that is uniquely him; it is his wild personality on a plate, using the larder of the UK. Fire is always present, the ingredients treated with maximum respect. It is the most exciting restaurant we have in this city; a place not afraid to challenge the palette and take a few risks. Carters is presently in the form of it’s life. There has never been a better time to visit.

Top one taxi firms in Brum goes to A2B

Chick’n’Sours, London

I want Chick’n’Sours to open up in Birmingham. There, I’ve said it. I know I should be using this opening paragraph to set tone and meter, but fuck it, it’s my blog and I’ll do how I please. I want them to open up in Birmingham really badly. I want the people who think that we have good fried chicken to eat their fried chicken and go ‘woah, hold on there, sister’, and shake their wrists until the fingers on their flaccid hands crack off one another, and dab, and floss, and raise eyebrows like they’ve just witnessed a man taking a shit in a public park. All of these are valid reactions to good fried chicken.

I know they do good fried chicken because I have really good taste buds, and my girlfriend who usually does, but is ill on this particular day, says things like “I can’t taste a thing and they still are really good. I can’t imagine how good they taste to you”, to which I dab and floss and raise my eyebrows in the same way that I did when I witnessed a man taking a shit in a public park on the way to work one day. True story. He didn’t even wipe. We wipe frequently with the baby wipes and the kitchen roll provided, though any of the sauces committed to anything other than the mouth would be a waste. Our lunch starts with pickled watermelon rinds, sweet and perfumed, with only a little vinegar astringency, moving on to nachos with bacon and I think seasoned with chicken skin, that are really quite frantic. It’s difficult to decscribe how the palate reacts to this and a loose cheese sauce, kimchi, with the occasional searingly hot chilli hidden for shits and giggles. Literally both shits and giggles with this amount of chilli and dairy. At times it’s all very fugitive, but also crack levels of addictive. I’ll take this combination over something more cohesive and dull any day of the week.

Chicken tenders are obscene strips of breast meat coated in what looks like poultry armour, a kind of riff on KFC only without the mutant chickens who live in sheds that nobody is allowed in, and those chickens are 20ft high and they don’t know why they are so big, and they look down at all the little chickens and think they are in an aeroplane because they are so small. Do KFC deny this? I think the silence speaks volumes. Anyway, back to this little underground gem in Covent Garden where these tenders are pretty much perfect when dredged through a perky blue cheese dip loaded with umami. Two side dishes appear; the first cucumbers in a sauce I cant really get to terms with, the second pickled watermelons dressed in a complex sauce that has vinegar, sugar, and fish sauce in amongst the mix. These are the second best things you can do with a watermelon; the first being sweet pickling the rinds, of which we are now on our second batch.

And then there are the wings that have me reaching for the tissues once again. Yes, chicken wings do turn me on this much, and no, I really don’t care that we are in public. Two flavours; hot and kung po, both with sauces as thick and reduced as the Tory leadership contest, which dress the fat wings and sit in every crevice like a lycra top a size too small. It’s not just great fried chicken; this is great cooking which plays on the five taste sensations throughout. Seriously skillful and a stupid amount of fun at the same time. It’s the real deal.

The above menu for two clocks in at £16 a head. Yes, you have read that correctly. It has to be one of London’s true bargains. Now I’m bound to secrecy on this, but I have it on good authority that Mr Chick’n’Sours himself is in Brum at the end of July for one night at one of our best (maybe the best) restaurants. I’m guessing it will be a lot more than £16 a head, but I’ll be there, and so should you. And if the main man himself is reading this right now, please do come say hello. I’ll be happy to show you around and maybe point out a site or two where I am positive they’ll be queuing out the doors to eat your food. One night is not going to be enough.


Can’t wait for them to come to Birmingham ? Let’s all split an A2B and go to London

Katsu Kitchen, Moseley

I can list as many reasons as I like for starting this blog, but there was only ever one: to gain the respect of chefs. I’ve long had an obsession with the industry, the skill of the knifework, the craft in being able to construct dishes, almagamating flavours into one cohesive dish that balances acidity and sweet, as well as understanding viscosity and texture. Part of me wishes I could have been a chef – I’m a good amateur – and it could have been so different. When I was fifteen I was due to do two weeks work experience at the UCB, only to fall off a bike the afternoon prior and tear up my hand in such a manner that they sent me straight home without passing reception. Maybe this blog is a continuation of the fifteen year old Simon, minus the acne and the obsession with my English teacher, Miss Pope. I’ve said for a while that as soon as I felt like I’ve gained the respect of the industry I’ll call time on this and find a new hobby. If I haven’t got there yet, I am certainly very close to that position. The end is nigh.

A few weeks ago a friend of mine within the industry let me see the other side of the counter. Yes, some idiot really did entrust me with serving customers for his business. I didn’t cook – he’s not that stupid – but I did put bits of meat on breads and fold and roll and ask if they needed sauces and chips. I had a great time working 18 hours over a two day period, drinking more gin than I probably should have and wearing inappropiate footwear. It’s tough work, let me tell you that. I left with tremendous admiration for anyone who could do this full time, promising myself that I would remember how hard it is everytime I was about to say something not nice about someone else’s cooking.

This brings me to Katsu Kitchen, a new restaurant in Moseley that I desperately want to be really nice about but can’t. As great an idea it is to specialise in breaded cutlets of meat, it has to be better than this for me to say otherwise. And that has to start with the raw produce. What they presently have is a small list of things priced mostly under a tenner. Those things are delivered with mostly a good level of skill, but the end product is lack lustre because the proteins they start with are of such poor quality.

We order a chicken katsu, a tonkatsu (the breaded pork from where this movement originated) donburi, and a side of chicken dippers served with a mug of katsu sauce. Despite being fried the chicken has a spongyness to the texture and doesn’t really taste of much, whilst the katsu sauce has a deep flavour with slight burnt notes on the finish. For your £9.90 you get this, rice, an egg which I don’t eat because its from a caged bird, and some lovely pickles. For a fiver less you can have five pieces of the chicken and the mug of sauce that is more of the same. The pork on the donburi is not good: stringy, fatty, and grey. Like Sam Alladyce. I try one piece and decide that rice is the way to go. The rest of the dish is a curryless katsu, though credit to the service who get us more of the brown sauce which is loaded with umami. The front of house are great throughout.

The above and an orange juice clock in at just over £25.00, an affordable amount but one that I won’t be running back to anytime soon. Throughout the meal we were trying to find positives, yet the biggest we could come to is that it is walking distance from our home. For me, there is no comparison to be had with the rice bowl at Tiger Bites Pig which is less money than this, and those looking for katsu will have a better time at Yakinori or even Wagamama. These are the hard facts. You want the best food, start with the best possible ingredients. It’s that simple. The kitchen are working with cheap meats and unforgivable eggs at present, and it’s showing in the finished product. There might be a decent restaurant in here with time if these things change. Maybe.


You don’t need to walk to a restaurant, not when A2B can take you there

Rebel Chicken, 2019

The first year of trading for a business is the hardest. It is the Litmus test for the projections and spreadsheets, the qualifiers for how well you really do understand the users. For restaurants it is the process of getting the diners to hear about you, getting them through the door, and then keeping them coming back. It is the gradual process of the right levels of stock and staff, tweaking the dishes and the prices, the right opening hours, deals, suppliers, and drinks, accumulating (hopefully) the media column inches and the queues out of the door. It is a hard, unforgiving industry. Many fail, sometimes deservedly so, sometimes because of bad luck or location. I had my concerns for Rebel Chicken; the food was always good enough to return and they had one of the best beer gardens in the city, but would just rotisserie chicken be enough to convince people to walk down a side street in the Jewellery Quarter? They’ve adapted, adding far more to the menu, and transforming that big open plan garden into something that East London would be proud of. This is now a year-round area, complete with sliding roof and foliage. It is unique to anywhere else in the city and deserves credit for that alone.

We come on a Saturday when the sun is beating down and decide to make a day of it. They have a brunch menu that appears to be very popular, supplied under the banner of Ocho – their sister tapas venue next door that I have a lot of love for. It makes sense: they already have morcilla and merguez, they put pulses in tomato sauces and stuff on bread; they already have the basis for a breakfast. The breakfast board for one served as a nice size for two, swiftly removed from the wooden boards they arrive on and on to plates, like any sensible man would. It’s a bloody good breakfast, a perfectly poached egg with bright yolk, toast, beans in the same tomato sauce that normally gets served with the meatballs, mushroom, and three bits of minced animal in natural casing. That’s sausages to you, stupid. Of those three I get happy memories from the densely spiced merguez, and give kudos to the morcilla, which everyone knows to be a far superior black pudding. The most recognisable of them is a pork sausage. A British breakfast banger. It tastes of pork, mace, and a little black pepper. It’s a very nice sausage on a very nice breakfast. At nine quid it’s an absolute steal.

Late morning quickly spilled to afternoon and I’ll use this point to declare my drink of the summer. They do a drink here called Damm Lemon, a light, lemon flavoured beer found on the backstreets of Barcelona by the Geordie manager of this establishment. More refreshing than a cold shower, less alchoholic than a Glaswegians breath; it’s the kind of drink you could, and should, lean on to get you through a summer’s day without looking like a twat. And this is coming from someone who specialises in looking like a twat.

Back to the food. We make the most of the day by seeing how far the food has progressed in a year at Rebel Chicken. Back then it was rotisserie chicken and not much else – now it is only true to its name if the chicken’s way of rebelling is to identify as a cow. There is chicken everyway you can think of — roasted, fried, coated, pulled — but there is also a big section of beef burgers, and stuff like halloumi and falafel just incase the rebel chicken wants to disappoint his father by becoming a vegetarian. We try two burgers, one more conventional, the other a bastardisation of all the bits I want to try in a bun. The food has improved, absolutely no doubt about that. The Yard Bird burger has a chunk of poultry in a buttermilk batter which is brittle and well made. The other burger has (wait for it) beef patty, pulled chicken, halloumi, jalepenos, and caramelised red onion. I wasn’t sure I’d like the beef but it’s good stuff; carefully cooked to a consumer friendly light pink, with good quality meat and a nice fat ratio. The pulled chicken comes from the tasty part of the bird, possibly dressed in too much BBQ sauce, though that’s me being difficult for the sake of it. The rest of it works. Don’t ask me how it tastes as a whole because I have no idea. I’m no animal, despite what you’ll read elsewhere. They have chips, which have improved since the last visit. We don’t finish them, mostly become some idiot made a burger with everything on it.

I guess what I am trying to say is it has improved since the last time I was here, fairly substantially in parts. The wider menu has allowed them more freedom to be expressive and it shows; the dishes have a certain swagger to them that matches the decor. Rebel Chicken have not only survived that first year, but have come out in a far better position than when they started it.

I used A2B to get me from A to B

Poli, Kings Heath

In lieu of another pizza place garnering significant exposure by handing out a week’s worth of free pizza to every blogger, Instagrammer, and grammar poor journalist, I’d almost forgot that Poli was opening last weekend. I am reminded by my girlfriend who is keen to try it out on account of her love for the sister venue, Grace + James. Expectations are set to high: Grace + James is an annoyingly perfect neighbourhood wine bar, where every bottle, decoration, and cheese is tailored into the most considered of rooms. It is a place where we spend a lot of time and money, a place where every visit is a lesson on natural wines. They’ve become very good at knowing what wine I will and won’t like, which is equal parts scary and impressive for a business that has only been open a year.

Poli is two doors down, unmissable given the teal painted frontage and pink logo. Inside it is a wash of baby pinks and soft blues, the walls bearing 80’s style prints, neon signs, and some terracotta plant pots that start a twenty minute conversation of admiration. It’s beautiful. The negroni I start with is the only thing I don’t like, as we plough into the menu: pickled grapes, a couple of small plates, two pizzas. Pickled grapes are the future, I know, I’ve tasted them.

Let’s start with the filth.  Potatoes roasted in lamb fat with a little mint. Sunday roast without the overcooked meat. All blistered skins and deep ovine flavour. I’m sad that it’s taken 36 years on the planet to eat these. Three dense meat balls with the backnotes of fennel, on a ragu of tomatoes thick with chunks of onion, homemade ricotta, and chive oil. It’s a big old portion for not much money. We fight over the rights to the last one, and then fight again to work the last of the ricotta out of the sides of the plate with the crusts of the pizza.

That pizza is good, in Birmingham’s top three at present and quite possibly the best in a very competitive market. It won’t be to everyone’s taste; the centre of both of ours are loose and soupy, the kind of pizza that would find the plate with ease should it be tilted. The rest is textbook. The crust is blistered, the dough pleasingly sour, with the same tomato sauce returning from the meatballs. One with guanciale, pecorino, and egg riffs on the flavours of carborna, whilst the other with chorizo, ‘nduja, and honey is a sweet meaty treat. The quality of the ingredients stands out with every bite. We plunge the crusts into an aioli coloured with squid ink that I don’t care for, and a fermented chilli sauce that I demand is bottled and sold. It’s complex and hot, which also happens to be my Tinder bio.

We don’t have dessert, though fear not, we are not alone and our company do. In a move never seen before on this singular-minded rampage of ego which is my food blog, I am now about to hand over the reigns to drink maestro, Jacob Clarke, who will talk you through his his strawberry, marshmallow, and jam shortbread sandwich from Happy Endings.

I’m getting a lot of strawberry, but also marshmallow and jam, too.

Wise words, Jacob. Wise words.

The bill hits £120 between four with a lot of booze, and we retire to the sanctuary of Grace and James to drink more wine. In all honestly, I was a little deflated when I heard the plans for yet another pizza place, and then it clicked: I’ve been eating Sophie and Henrys food for years, way before the cheese boards at Grace + James when they made their own chorizo and put them on tacos with the street food business they brought to Birmingham. In Poli they have created much more than a pizzeria; it has great craft beers and wines and a killer play list of indie classics. It has great food at a fair price and with impeccable taste. It is, without question, my favourite opening of the year so far.


Can’t walk to Kings Heath? A2B love that journey

Franco Manca, Birmingham

The first Franco Manca I had was also my first great pizza experience. Let me take you back. It was the Summer of 2010, way before any idea of this blog occurred, when I was lean and with a full head of hair. I was in London with my mate Barry to see Kings of Leon, a band who were once good, despite what their last three albums will argue. We had lunch at Gauthier, beers in Camden, the gig, and then back to Camden. In the morning we hopped on to the blue line for what seemed like an eternity, stopping at Brixton for pizza at the original Franco Manca. I’d done my research; I got the joke about Frank being missing; I knew the queue would be big and the menu short. We went and it was incredible. In my head it is one of the best meals I’ve eaten – nonsense of course, but still a testament to how thrilling some cooked dough and a few ingredients can be. Franco Manca is the primary reason we have Neopolitan style pizza in the UK: they gave this style to the masses with thirty-six sites in London, and another eleven further afield, including a new shiny Birmingham site.

Now cutting to the crux (or should that be crust?), do they still provide a great pizza experience? No. And I don’t think they have for years in all honesty. I recall a really average pizza at Broadway market three years back, and likewise at Kings Cross a year or so after that. Maybe they were never as good as I think they were, or maybe the competition that they created have surpassed them with ease. It’s a good pizza, but good pizza isnt going to pass muster when we have some excellent pizza already established in this city. It starts well enough; a starter of lamb sausage with potato and spicy tomato sauce is comforting and big on flavour. Better is the aubergine parmigiana, that is firm and meaty. I’d say this is the nicest rendition of this dish I’ve had had it not caught in parts and taken on burnt notes.

Well then the generator overheated, granite spewed on to Bennett’s Hill, and they had a full on meltdown. It became quickly clear that some parts of the dining room were making full use of that oven which blasts pizzas in about a minute, turning tables quickly. We were not in that part of the room. It took one hour to get our pizza and that was only after raising it with a manager. They turn up, one five minutes before the other, the two looking visibly like they’d been given five minutes difference in cooking time. The pizza is okay: it’s clearly not a true sourdough base, one seems a little underdone, the other is heavily scorched. The toppings are unevenly distributed, a minor detail, but one that others seem to get right. I don’t enjoy the No.7, which surprises me, because almost all of the ingredients appeared successfully over the two starters. The one with chorizo is better, but only because that cured meat is superb in quality. Claire notes that the pizza she had for lunch the day before was way better, a worrying thought for inconsistencies across sticking some dough in an oven.

Now we know they’ve had a bad day, and so do they. The manager reappears, apologises and wipes the bill. He also does the same for the table next to us who’ve had a similar experience. He asks that we come back and give them another go, a fair request given how well it is handled, and one that we will do when they’ve settled in over to months to come. The previous night we went to another pizza place that opened on the same day here. The difference was huge; they were operating like clockwork and turning out some of the best pizza we’ve had in Birmingham. Part of me thinks that Franco Manca believe they can walk into a central spot and live off their reputation. They can’t. For now it appears that they’ve cut off too large a slice to swallow.


Thankfully the wait times for the A2B that took us there and back were much shorter.

Asha’s, Solihul

The night we book in to eat at Asha’s is unknowingly the festival of Eid. Inside the restaurant is heaving and celebrations are in full swing. It is everything that makes Birmingham so special: there are families here, but there are also friends and colleagues; communal tables hosted by those who do not need to be here, but choose to in support of those who have passed through the hours of sunlight without food or water for 28 days. It is wonderful to see those who have entered Ramadan for Islam are joined by non-muslims in the breaking of the fast; food is being shared, traditions respected. Everyone is joyous. In a period of history where the parties of the right are trying so hard to segregate and divide, Birmingham (and in particular on this evening’s dinner, Solihull) stands united in solidarity. It is a message more powerful than any written on the side of a bus, or placard wielding rally. In this city We Are One.

I’ll be honest, it is not how I envisaged the start of this piece to go. I expected it would be based around how much I’ve enjoyed Asha’s in Birmingham for almost a decade, and how my initial reactions to them opening another branch in a bland shopping centre in Solihull not known for good food was one of surprise. Both of these facts are true and probably don’t require dwelling on. Instead we’ll talk about the new site, tucked away at the back-end, sandwiched between the chains at the top of the escalator. It doesn’t seem the obvious place to pay £21 for a prawn bhuna, but then Solihull happens to be a place desperately short of options for good food considering how affulent this end of the city is. And it’s a beauty of restaurant; low slung ornate lighting penetrates the twilight, with booths cleverly concealed down one side and an endless bar running the length of the other. Tables and chairs are every colour you can think of, just as long as the only colour you can think of is black. It’s the most romantic setting to come to Touchwood since the back row of the Cineworld opposite.

Perhaps the biggest compliment I can pay the food is that it is entirely reminiscent of the central Birmingham location, which, having never written about, I will now have to breakdown. It’s premium curry house fare; the wheel hasn’t been reinvented, but it has been given new tyres and shiny spokes. Sometimes it’s subtle, like the tray of chutneys that accompany the poppodums. You probably won’t notice the difference with the green sauce that is now synonymous with the giant crisps, but the mango chutney is refined and has balanced acidity, whilst a papaya chutney is a classy affair with sultanas and nigella seeds that you’ll not see too often. It’s when they wield out the big guns that you know you are somewhere which wants to be taken seriously. We’ll overlook the etch-a-sketch dribble of sauces on the tandoori platter we started with and instead look at the quality of the produce: curls of king prawns, blistered and juicy, two pieces of chicken tikka, another two chicken malai; each huge poultry piece marinated until the proteins soften and the yogurt catches on the edges for that slight smokiness. The cooking of the meat so accurate that I swear a sous-vide machine must of been used, even if the flavour tells me otherwise. And then there are the seekh kebabs, as good as any I’ve had. Soft meat that threatens to fall apart on the lightest of pressure, loads of lamb flavour despite the obvious presence of ginger, chilli, garlic, and cumin. We finish this and know that the curries that are to follow are going to be good.

And they are. They really are. It’s obvious that each sauce is made only for that one mention on the menu, over the base sauces that plague cheaper establishments. The prawn bhuna is an exercise in this; the tomato rich sauce tastes strongly of the sea. Like the girls I used to take to the cinema here, it is thick and luscious, with a good amount of ginger thrown in to the mix. Twenty one pounds for this is punchy, but then it happens to be a very lovely curry. A chicken tikka masala has a generous amount of poultry, as one would expect for £15, in a more generic sauce thickened with lots of double cream. In all honesty it lacks the whack of flavour that the bhuna has, but it is still a very strong rendition of the most British of curries. Both get saffron rice piled in, mixed about and scooped on to naan bread fragrant with lots of garlic.

Portions are very generous, leaving no room for dessert and the remnants of the curries in a brown bag for lunch the following day. I really enjoyed this new Asha’s; the food was consistent, the quality of the produce high, and the staff really superb. In reality Indian food in this city has never been more prevalent: we have the balti houses, the street food places, those like Opheem pushing the boundaries for progressive Indian, and places like here who do the more familiar dishes in luxurious surroundings to high standards. I have no problem in saying that in my mind Asha’s is the best place in the city to splash a small chunk of cash on those more conventional curries. Everything about it screams class.


A2B are based in Solihull. Let them take you for a tour of their manor.

Steamhouse Bagels, Birmingham

I went into town to meet Claire for lunch recently. I was early, so I softened her up with a present from a shop she loves, went for an espresso in one coffee shop by her work, and then the same in another. We hadn’t decided where to go for lunch; I had in my head a grander feed; one that weighs heavy on the stomach for some time, washed down with a glass or six of crushed grapes. Claire wanted a bagel from the fairly new place around the corner from her office. A text debate ensued whereupon I made the case for various restaurants and she said she wanted a bagel. We compromised in the way that young lovers do and go for a bagel. It was busy and inexpensive. I wore my blogger cap to lunch (it is a cap that says ‘blogger’ just in case anyone is unsure), preceding to dissect the bread and its filling in a way that only us attention seeking twats do. Claire pointed out that it’s a fiver or so, and that had she not worked for a generous business that supplies lunch for its staff for free, she would be here all the time. It rendered my opions invalid and is probably all you need to know about Steamhouse Bagels.

So you can close down the browser now and move on with your life if that’s what you really want, or you can hang around for my verdict and score. It’s pretty good there; not ground breaking, but functional and affordable. The bagels are pleasingly dense and chewy, baked on site and fresh for the busy lunch that has them queueing out of the door. The fillings are nice, if a little bland. A chicken bagel lacks promised heat but has a generous amount of mozzerlla, whilst the one with falafel and other healthy-ish ingredients is quickly destroyed by the girl who so desperately wanted to eat here. They do cakes which look great which we don’t have room for, though probably should have for greater longevity of this post. Given that my office has only the world’s worst Subway for company, anyone who is able to walk here from their work has it lucky. Chaps, should your girlfriend ever tell you that she don’t mind where you go for food, she’s lying. She knows exactly what she wants, and the liklihood is that it is a far better choice than yours.


A2B love a bagel, I think. They also like getting me from A to B.

Breddos Tacos, London

When thinking about food it is difficult to understand that not everyone has the same excellent taste as us. Reader, I already know that you have excellent taste because you could be reading any of the average food blogs out there, yet you’re here, settled in with a mug of tea and ten minutes to kill with the best. And little old me, well my lunch breaks are filled with research so that we can all be together in this marriage of meals. But not everyone can be so fortunate. I saw the other side of the coin whilst in London recently. Whilst postioned in the central area, I saw crowds amass in Benugos and Prets. I saw workers enter the dirtiest of cafes for £3.50 portions of Lasagne, and others queue for tables at Pizza Express. In one of the greatest cities in the world to eat, the largest groups were settling for that old lover, familiarity. If the last two years have taught me anything it’s that we’re a nation not very good with change, and even when we do want it, we’re awful at delivering it. Old Blighty is still stuck on Friday night fish and chips, Sunday lunches, and warm pints of Carling. We don’t want the danger of the unknown when Pizza Express are still churning out their version of Only Fools and Horses and we know every single word. The reason why just over half of this country made a bad decision about our future is because half the country are still rooted in the past, with their casual racism and view that the new is dangerous. We can have the brightest, most adventurous of humanity at the front, though as long as the old guard are holding on to the rope at the rear any progress will be minimal.

I can’t see tacos passing muster with the old guard. It’s something about the size; that down-the-hatch-in-one mouthful which doesn’t fit with the burly portions of Britain whereupon anything not touching the edges of the plate is considered a starter. To the rest of us they feel like a natural progression, from the awful pulled pork years, through to the burrito and now it’s daintier and far prettier sister. The taco is malleable; a scoop of the good bits untainted by the filler of rice. I head to Breddos for mine, because I have taste and also because it is conveniently located a four minute walk away from the evening party I have to attend. I sit in the window and order a frozen margarita, some tortilla cheese dip thingy and three tacos. That dippy thing is a mixture of three cheeses that appears to be a pretty even mix of mature hard cheese and more stringy mozzerella types, topped with a salsa that has a healthy kick in amongst the onion. The corn chips are nice, but the whole thing is ultimately just tortillas and cheese sauce.

Next time I’ll load up on nothing but tacos. The three I have is probably enough, but I’ll go for much more. The masa fried chicken is a dead cert, given that the corn flour has a pleasing crunch from the same base as the tacos themselves, with pickled cabbage, a little salsa, and mayo that zips with heat. Likewise I’ll be ordering the black bean with pickled onions again. This was the surprise for me, the beans had bite and a little meatiness to them, with a hot sauce that burns just enough. It is one thing to make a taco great with some fried chicken, but to do it with not much more than beans and onions is seriously impressive.

I have another frozen margarita and pay up the bill for £24, before leaving to act like a consummate professional for a couple of hours. I’d heard many a good thing about Breddos from friends in the know, and I’d pretty much agree with their opinion. These are some of the best tacos I’ve tried; constructed with the precision of an architect and loaded with layers of flavour. As I finish writing this it is confirmed that Breddos will be heading to Moseley for a one-off Sunday session at Carters. Let’s hope they enjoy the area enough to stick around on a more permanent basis.