In that massive head of mine I’ve been harbouring a piece on Arch 13 for some time. I would go in, pretty blonde in hand. We would take the bar stools on the left-hand side of the bar. Our order would be simple; all of the cheese and all of the meat. Sixty quid well spent. We would wash down this feast with wine. Loads of wine. Glasses of bright whites and Provençal rosé for my companion, bigger reds for me. We would get a bit drunk and Abi would give me the eyes to say I’ve had enough. It would be perfect.
But life isn’t a movie script, is it? Four months after it has opened and we still haven’t got around to it. Sure, we both go and sit on those stools, but it tends to be for a couple of drinks max. I’ve gone with friends, ordered a good bottle, a little cheese, and destroyed the competition at Connect 4. I’ve also collected a very tipsy girlfriend from there, her sat with a pissed grin at the bar, sipping on champagne and picking from a bowl of pork scratchings. It’s that type of wine bar; unstuffy and friendly. So not very wine bar-like at all.
The wines are brilliant. Of course they are. The wine shop that once encompassed the entire unit is still here, albeit caged into a space half of what it used to own. It’s from this shop, Connollys wine merchants if you’re asking, that Abigail Connolly curates the bar’s list. The choices by the glass are small but perfectly formed; the work of someone young enough to appreciate what the new generation of wine drinkers want, with a badge pinned to her blouse that confirms those choices are well considered. The recent list has a beautiful pinot noir by Pascal Marchand that we recently drank in Lyon, a perfumed Reisling with bags of acidity, and a Californian Chardonnay that is a true expression of a grape which deserves far more respect than generally given. A Portugese tinto sits at the lower end of the scale at about a fiver, whereupon the prices rise to a little over a tenner for a large glass of the better stuff. There is a selection by the bottle with the added bonus of an inhouse wine shop that applies a small corkage fee to drink in the bar. It’s the little things that count and they have the small details down to a tee here, right down to a succinct list of cocktails.
Now the food, because, y’know, that’s what’s expected of me nowadays. The reality is that people probably come here to drink wine and graze on food, as opposed to the opposite. And that’s a shame, for some serious thought has gone into the offering. The cheeses have all bases covered from an entirely UK sourced selection. They have the wonderful Maida Vale which I’ve only previously seen in Carters, cave aged cheddars, Alex James’ Blue Monday, and Oxford Isis, the world’s only middle class terror cell produced dairy product. I jest. Though it is the bomb. They do many more, but those are the ones I tend to stick to. They also do cured meats such as lomo, speck, and saucisson, along with a venison salami that might just be the ultimate partner to the pinot noir I mention above. Even the pork scratchings are bloody delicious. At lunch times they do a daily hot dish which was vegan chilli on the last day I went. I never ordered it; there was something in the name that gave me nightmares.
The soundtrack to all of this is a nigh on perfect blend of Bowie, Earth Wind and Fire, The Rolling Stones, and various other too-cool-for-school bands. It all makes for one of my very favourite places in Birmingham; a place where top class wine and quality food is equalled by friendly service in a welcoming and casual environment. This being a food blog, I don’t feel it right to score what is essential superior shopping. But please, take this as a recommendation, wine bars simply don’t get much better than Arch 13.
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