I’ve promised Becki Giles that I won’t mention her by name in this piece, so I won’t. The below will not mention Becki, nor in keeping with her dislike of people like me writing about the pub, reference that Becki is now at the helm having worked alongside her late parents at feeding north Birmingham for twenty years. I will however mention her new(ish) head chef. A somewhat legendary character, who won a Michelin star on Harborne High Street in 2009, held 3AA rosettes at a time when rosettes outside of London were non existent, and has TV appearances under his belt even if he is the antithesis of the smiley, happy-go-lucky characters that TV chefs now go to as a default character. I’ll cut to the chase; Richard Turner is head chef at Butlers Arms. He has been for some time. It’s just him and Becki won’t make a scene out of it. There you go, I’ve just mentioned her again.
We almost didn’t get food. I met my lunch date at noon sharp for a quick Guiness or two, and despite Google Maps advice took a taxi from Birmingham to Sutton, which ended-up being an hour in the car, instead of less than fifteen minutes by train, us failing to control our bladders like the two middle-aged men that we are. We arrive to be told by Becki (I’ve just done it again) that two more minutes and the kitchen would have closed until dinner, but that we are fine and to take seats in the dining area. We have another Guiness, a glass of fizz, a bottle of picpoul and yeah, it’s going to be one of those Mondays. I’m happy with that. It has a gentle buzz to the large space and a wine list that is a wine lover’s dream, a line I’ve stolen from my last review here in 2019 when Paula was in the kitchen and Chris was pouring the glasses.
The cooking is just brilliant. Not in-your-face showy brilliant, just pub grub that is being slowly elevated by top notch seasoning, high quality ingredients, solid technique, and the confidence of knowing when to stop. The tart was the perfect example of this; shortcrust pastry as slender as a supermodel, with a light filling of gruyere, ricotta, and buttery leeks. What makes it is the salad of leaves on top, each crisp and freshly dressed in a vinaigrette that has ample acidity to cut through the richness. It is, and this is not hyperbole, a work of art. I’d sit in that taxi for an hour, holding in a wee whilst he bounces over speedbumps, just to eat it again. Prior to this was fritto misto of whiting, prawns, and monkfish in the daintiest of batters, the selection dictated entirely by what was best from the fish monger. It’s not rocket science.
I have halibut, a fat tranche of the stuff, crusted with something dark and comforting, with crushed potatoes, and a buttery beurre blanc with shrimps and caviar. I didn’t get to try the monkfish across from me, but my companion, a man who sees two Michelin starred cooking on a daily basis, raved about the complexity of the lemongrass and ginger sauce. I love how these sit on a menu alongside fish and chips. I expect that and the fish pie will be equally spectacular.
Truth be told I wanted to go ever since I saw pork jowl on the menu. I love pork jowl. It’s my favourite bit of piggy. It’s just hardly seen in this country because it’s exceptionally fatty and needs a lot of time to cook. This was perfect; soft, delicate meat, crackling (I can’t bring myself to use the words ‘pork air bag’), a hefty cut of black pudding, mashed potato, and the most glorious sauce of prunes and marjoram. It’s just £20.95. For this. For cooking of this quality. It’s pub food but not as you know it. It has depth and character, is comforting, yet clearly the work of someone who understands how to build flavour. We finish on a delightfully boozy trifle, a glass of something sweet, and a bottle of Cote du Rhone.
The bill is £90 a head, which is insane value given the amount we ate and drank. Also, given the portion sizes, you could, I would imagine, just have a main and a drink and do that for less than thirty quid each, but why would you? Butlers Arms is a place to celebrate hospitality, to eat and drink plentifully, and to leave happier than you arrived. Two months ago, I gave three of my five votes in Top 50 Gastropubs to pubs outside of the region, because I take it seriously and I couldn’t think of any deserving of said vote. I sat in Butlers Arms, full to the brim on the joys of life, feeling exceptionally silly of my choice to do that.
9/10
Sign up to the newsletter here
https://blog.us14.list-manage.com/subscribe?u=08c98db0e9d6eb9e5b54695a1&id=eda85ee6f4
