Sometimes you need to see something firsthand to appreciate where it fits in to the grid. I’d not heard of Cow & Sow, not seen them on my trips to Bristol or read about them from my friends in that part of the world. In my eyes they were following Pastures route of up the M5 from the South West into Birmingham, here to clean up on the abysmal steak scene we had with more hunks of aged animal. I had mentally prepared for a similar style of restaurant set in another expensive bit of real estate.

And then you see it, or more importantly, taste it, and you realise immediately it’s nothing like you expect it to be. That it operates far away from Pasture, or even Gaucho, and is far closer to the accessible style of Miller & Carter than anyone else. And that’s okay. Seriously. Everyone needs to know their market. It’s on me for thinking otherwise.

We eat from the set lunch, and by we I mean me and the father in-law, splitting it up fairly equally from both the cow and the sow. Tony loves his starter of pork belly in a molasses-like glaze, eats it all in record time. I try a bit and can understand why he does, the meat is decent, the fat rendered down and the glaze pleasantly sweet without being cloying. I try poached and roasted pineapple with siracha mayonnaise, if only to sate my intrigue. It’s crap. No ways of getting around it. The pineapple isn’t roasted enough, and the egg-less mayo not properly emulsified. It’s all very watery. I would say that it’s an insult to vegans but maybe if they choose to come to a restaurant named after two farmyard animals they deserve to eat it.

They can cook a steak, I’ll give them that much. The flat iron steak is cooked to a medium and properly rested. Charred, smokey exterior, lovely bright pink centre. A good chimichurri full of bright vinegar notes, some chips that almost certainly have Koffmans on the bag. I seriously doubt they have made them but at least they’ve gone some way to source the best frozen ones. My pork belly had seen too high a heat for too long. It wasn’t fun to eat. More of the chips, a watery cider and mustard sauce. I don’t reach the halfway line of the meat.



We have one dessert between us which is a really good salted caramel tart which should warrant a promotion for whoever made it. The bill, aided by a great Monday deal of half price wine, comes to a paltry £72 with a good bottle of red. Now I’m sorry if I’ve ploughed through this; truth is it was a very average meal with average service and an average bill. I find it very hard to get excited about a style of cooking that’s overly familiar, bordering on boring. It’s just not me. Afterwards we go to Eighteen for a martini so I can show Tony where his savings are going, the breadth of Colmore Row underneath our eye line. At either end are two steakhouses, both from the South West, though a world away from each other stylistically. I know which direction I’ll be sticking to in future.
6/10