arch 13

Eat Out to Help Out, Week 1

It turns out that Rishi Sunak, the former hedge fund manager who personally profited from the collapse of RBS to the tune of many millions, is an actual angel. A tiny, 5’7″ angel, sent from the heavens to sit atop of my Christmas tree. First the furlough scheme which has allowed me to complete Netflix over the last four months, and now the salaciously named Eat Out to Help Out incentive. I went out several times this week to get Rishi’d, fully embracing the 50% off food (and soft drinks) to the maximum tune of a tenner. And here, my gift to you, a super quick post about what I ate. I won’t give prices because you’re all adults and frankly I can’t be arsed to look on the internet. In your face, RBS.

Arch 13.

What’s that Rishi? No discount on vino? Damn you and your insistence on taking all that sweet sweet alcohol tax. We had a cheese board, couple of meats, and some mighty fine hummus. It was all in stellar condition, hand picked from the best possible suppliers. I’ve missed Arch 13 a lot. It’s a bloody great bar.

Zen Metro.

People are shits. Absolutely horrid shits. Zen got stung the weekend before with 25% of bookings not showing. Horrid shits. The power of the internet meant that one tweet later Zen had twenty or so jaded readers of a food blog in for dinner. Claire had a very serviceable salmon dish, whilst I went for the Zen Inferno, a mild curry in no way steeped in Birdseye chillis. I finished it with sweat pouring off my brow, holding in the internal burning by not coughing. My arse still hasn’t recovered. Service by Jaimon was as sharp and personable as ever.

Purecraft Kitchen.

Behold the greatest bar snack in the world! Smoked potato, crushed and then crisped up in fat, doused in beer cheese sauce. Whatever beer cheese is I want it my belly. All the beer cheese time. Add the best scotch egg in Brum, a killer sausage roll, burgers of beef and of chicken (have the latter), and you have an extremely enjoyable lunch. Praise be to Rishi, my little gnome friend.

Little Blackwood.

Is there a better way to spend a Wednesday evening than at Little Blackwood? How about bao and ramen at Little Blackwood. Twenty quid (well a tenner because of Rishibabes) gets two of the former and one of the latter. We eat them all; the salmon bao and the duck bao wolfed down in record time. The spicy laksa with just-cooked prawns bobbing on the surface and the ramen with its chewy noodles and a broth with a dashi base and the texture of long simmered bones. Do it.

Baked in Brick.

Not technically on the scheme yet, but we went on Thursday when pizza is two-for-one all day, thus effectively adding one more day to destroyer of banks Rishi Sunak’s scheme. Lee has been working on his dough all lockdown and it shows. This was the best pizza I’ve eaten at Baked in Brick. I’m reliably told that you should keep your eyes peeled for a special pop-up in the next week or two. See, you come here for dreadful writing and I give you an exclusive. Ain’t that grand.

I can’t be certain, but I’m pretty sure I heard Rishi say everyone should use A2B

Lunch at Arch 13. Jewellery Quarter

It wasn’t so long ago that I waxed lyrical about Arch 13; a place that I have huge amounts of love for. And now I’m back, albeit this time in a much shorter format, to wax lyrical once more, about a lunch offering that I’ve tried and believe justifies a couple of hundred words and a few minutes of your time. Let’s talk toasties. Cheese toasties in particular. A lunch that optimises the produce of the fridge, puts them between bread slices and applies heat. A toastie doesnt require skill to make, but is a sum of its parts. Use cheap cheese and it will leak the fat of a cow spent clamped down in a shed; put in baked beans packed with preservatives and watch that filling’s heat rise to the point that it is preceded by a pyroclastic flow. Fortunately the fridge here has the best of cured meat and cheese. I know this because it is where I buy my cheese from for home.

Claire and I go on a miserable afternoon and decide the only way to proceed is to share all four options. I take the optional wine pairing with all of them because Dry January is a marketing ploy by ISIS to gradually move us all to a Sharia State, or at least that is what the drunk man in a Tommy Robinson t-shirt at the bus stop told me. They have a vegan one made with vegan sheese (this is a real word) and chargrilled vegetables that works because vegan sheese (I know) tastes of nothing and the chargrilled vegetables taste great. The rest are sheese (sorry, I cant stop) free. We add chorizo to the goats cheese and chilli jam one and congratulate ourselves on our excellent taste, and marvel at a mutton, Lincolnshire Poacher, and farmhouse chutney one that is all intense oozy notes. My favourite is the bresaola style beef with blue cheese and caramelised onions. It works, but then you knew that as soon as you read the ingredients.

The matching wines are brilliant because Abigail really knows her shit. And also a little bit about wine. There are Turkish reds, a smart semillion from Chile, a beefy red from Spain for the beef, and rather brilliantly a white from Romania that more than assisted the washing down of the sheese (Sheesus Christ). It’s a fiver for the toasties and an extra £3 for the matching wine, making it an absolute steal for a feed and watering. It’s yet another reason to love this wonderful wine bar. I’ll see you there.

A2B insist all their drivers do Dry January so you don’t have to.

Arch 13, Jewellery Quarter

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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