Wine Bar

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.

Transport provided by A2B Radio Cars

Cheval Blanc, Spring Menu Launch

Anyone that knows me, whether that be personally or via my potty-mouthed Twitter account, will know that I spend a lot of time in Cheval Blanc. I live 192 steps away and have the added bonus of not having to cross a road (something which if you also know me has proved problematic in the past). There are other options in Moseley – lots of them, in fact – but for me Cheval Blanc is the best bar in Birmingham. It is the wine bar of your dreams. Knowledgeable, affordable, with a casual air to it. A space where people go to imbibe in a relaxed environment. It is knobhead free. Apart from the occasions when I’m perched at the bar, when there is a singular knobhead with an ego problem.  Do not approach him.  He will break your heart.

And they do food. Very good food as it turns out.  Food that keeps on getting better and better. Cyd the chef may look he could be a bad guy in Ratatouille, but he has adapted his style to fit the small kitchen out back, turning out dishes that are rooted in classic French training. Over the last 9 months the cooking has become more at ease, more an expression of Cyd’s style. It is food driven by the seasons that punches with distinct flavours.

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The spring menu was launched two weeks back. It is easily their best work yet. The first course of Earl Grey cured salmon with remoulade and grain mustard dressing that danced with acidity.  There were subtle notes of tea in the fish and brightness from the addition of apple in the remoulade.  We get a South African Sauvignon Blanc called Two Dogs, A Peacock and a Horse with this.  I laugh at the name because I am an imbecile.  Wine this good is not to be laughed at.

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Smoked mutton leg is everything you hoped it would be.  The thin slices of cold meat are rich and slightly gamey, the rustic salad of rocket dressed sharp with shallots and Jerez vinegar.  It is the perfect food for its surroundings, more so if you take it with the suggested complex Amontillado sherry.  I’ve waxed on about Abigail’s ability to match food to wine before, but if any pairing shows off those badges she’s earned, it’s this.

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If Cyd really was the bad guy in Ratatouille, he’s learned how to make a mean one.  The veg that the red mullet is on has been roasted to a sweet pulp, with just a hint of vinegar acidity.  It’s a classic combination that works with the well timed fish. But its the crab Arancini that steals the show.  Packed full of crab meat and robustly seasoned, this could sit on the menu on it’s own.  The wine pairing this time was a classy unoaked Chardonnay that more than held its own.

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By now night was settling in and I was enjoying the evenings company a little too much.  So much so that my memory of this particular wine eludes me.  What doesn’t allude me is the depth of the morel and cognac sauce that coats the chicken leg.  Divine stuff, straight up my alleyway.  This was my favourite course and one that I will be returning to eat regularly.

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We finish the night with a rhubarb and blossom tart.  It’s everything you need after all this food; light and refreshing, the pastry short and baked through.  A German Riesling full of sweetness and acidity is remarkable and worth hunting out by itself.

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And with that I saunter stumble my way back up the 192 steps and fall into a happy place.  A happy place where the staff know the names of its locals.   Where wine is expertly sourced, great cocktails are to be had, and food is way too affordable to be that good.  Cheval Blanc is that place.  And the good news for everyone is that it keeps on getting better and better.

Right, plug time.  I am up for Best Food Blog at the forthcoming MFDH Awards and Abigail is up for Best Sommelier.  Please give us both a vote here  http://www.mfdhawards.co.uk/vote-now/

Cheval Blanc, Moseley

Cheval Blanc is now three months old and has already become something of a cult classic in Moseley, bringing back the wine bar without the yuppy association of the 80’s and with a new dynamic; more vibrant and current in its approach.  There is no pretence here, instead the team focus on delivering high quality wine and cocktails, with food that complements the drink, not the other way round.  Its a lovely place to whittle away the hours and I often do.  I write this on a Wednesday morning, my head still tinged from both Saturday and Sunday afternoons sat at the bar drinking too well for my doctors liking.  It is safe to say that I am a fan.

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But I am here now to mostly talk about the food, not my alcoholic tendencies.  I was invited for the launch of the Autumn menu a week back and its clear that the food has moved up a notch in the short time they have been operating.  Dishes are more complex, flavour profiles more pronounced.  The head chef here is Cyd, a man so Gaelic I expect he cycles to work on a bike with a baguette in a basket up front, and more than ever this feels like his menu.  Each dish we try has a confidence of a man who understands his native cuisine but isn’t afraid to take it elsewhere when required.  The crisp balls of arancini which start are accurately seasoned so that the rice inside punches heavily with earthy mushroom flavour.  A salad of crab is freshened by lime and grapefruit segments which could have lost the seafood flavour in lesser hands.  Here it is balanced and well matched to a Australian Reisling that zings and dazzles.

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A glass of Cab Franc from Australia’s Jamsheed is almost too quaffable, all light and refined with a back note of oak that works wonders with slices of venison carpaccio daintily dressed with blackberries and hazelnuts.  A quail dish feels more substantial; pan-fried breast and confit leg with glass-like crisp skin.  Fresh quince and poached grapes are seasonal and sensible choices for the needed acidity, whilst a celeriac rosti takes it in to more complete eating.  In a menu of small dishes designed to be eaten in numbers, this feels like a small dish that could fill a hole by itself.  Try it with the Rhone they suggest, high in tannin and savoury enough to pin down the fruit in the dish.

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We hold fire on the last course and pause for a cocktail featuring chocolate infused bourbon, an idea that should be stolen and made compulsory for Christmas Day breakfast.  The dessert is a mousse of chocolate and green chartreuse, a herby liquor that was new to me and vastly enjoyed, probably because of the 55% alcohol content.  Its a classy way to finish, possibly a little to kitsch for my liking, but then most things are.

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Yes, I do live 150 metres away from here, and yes, this evening was free.  In an age when disclosure is paramount and every free meal that a ‘blogger’ (and how I hate that label) receives is scrutinised, it is questionable how much one can believe this write-up over, say, the one which is going to cost me two-hundred-and-fifty-quid this coming weekend.  And for every complimentary meal I receive I always ask myself if I would come back or not and pay out of my own wallet.  The answer to that with Cheval Blanc is I do come back, twice since this event last week and probably again this weekend.  I spent my bloody birthday here, for Christ’s sake.  I come back because I simply cant think of a nicer place to enjoy quality wine and casually pick away at well made plates of food.  The team of Abi and Rory know their stuff and they have created somewhere special that never fails to deliver.  I am fortunate to live in Moseley and have so many great places to drink and eat on my doorstep, but none of those places get me excited quite like Cheval Blanc.

 I was invited to the above autumn menu tasting.

 

 

Cheval Blanc, Moseley

In my distorted world, wine joins chess and the guitar in a small list of things I will never truly master.  It’s not through lack of trying; I preserver with them all despite being gifted with fat fingers, a bloated liver, and distinct lack of intelligence.  With the wine I am a member of a club, I read on the subject and I go to wine tastings.  I can tell the difference between red crushed grapes and white crushed grapes (the colour), and I can often tell you a bit about the make-up if its printed clearly enough on the label. But that’s where it ends.  Like chess and the guitar, there is always someone better; a master of their arts, willing to show-off a little with the panache of a flick of the hair or slight of hand.  And I can only stand back and admire it all when that happens.

This tenuously leads me one hundred and fifty words in to Cheval Blanc, a wine bar that has my total admiration despite being less than two weeks old.  For here is a place that takes wine seriously, with a impeccable list formed from around the world after a substantial holiday in France.  Located next to its sister pub The Dark Horse, Cheval Blanc (French for White Horse; see what they’ve done?  Clever clogs.) feels a different entity.  The seating has upholstery thick enough to nestle in for the night, with thick wooden tables and exposed brick walls.  The centre piece of the room is an inset spiral cellar, accentuated by lamp shades which dangle down at head height above it.

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We try lots of wines with each one having the sort of character you would expect from a list hand picked by those who appreciate the craft.  There is a house champagne full of sparkle and sweetness that would shame many a fine restaurant and a rose that begs to be enjoyed on a warm evening out on the terrace they share with The Dark Horse.  A rather marvellous white from BLANKbottle comes with a great story and no grape information.  Its a corker, all balanced marzipan and pear.  We all love a classic style Beaujolais whilst a big red from South Africa is as elegent as it is punchy with blackberry and cherry.  We go home and look the wine up.  Good wine has this effect on me in the same way good food does.

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And they do food.  Of course they do, this is a restaurant blog after all.  Small plates, mostly cold, designed to sit amongst the wine, are good enough to warrant a visit of its own.  An accurately poached lobster tail sharpened by lemon acidity, a liver parfait of real depth and cured bits of venison are enjoyed almost as quickly as they are washed down.  It’s all good stuff, I just wish I remembered to take photo’s.  I will next time.  Promise.

Bottles range from twenty quid up to a Cheval Blanc at £800.00, with glasses of wine and plates of food starting at a fiver and rising upwards.  It all seems extremely fair given the experience and love which has gone in to the end product.  It’s a place that I can see myself spending a lot of time and money in, admiring the real experts go to work and having a bloody great time doing so.