I’m going to stick my neck out here and state the obvious; I won’t be the only person to rush to write about The Wildmoor Oak. In fact they’ll be others with far greater national coverage who’d have looked at the set-up and thought it’s worth the punt, and maybe the odd Instagrammer who perhaps isn’t as fully understanding but quite likes the idea of a gorgeous space or sunny terrace as much as they dislike the idea of pigs head terrine. It’s what happens when the owners happen to have significant experience with a chain of very good gastropubs and the head chef has come straight from a similar role at Carters for the best part of well, forever. People will take notice. Heads will turn. Pigs head, in this case.
The pub has the quiet confidence of a team that understands what qualities they individually bring to those oak tables. William Morris lines the walls adorned with tasteful prints that I was too busy drinking to fully notice whilst outside is a manicured terrace for both of those sunny days. They have a functioning bar area, good wines, good cocktails, apparently good beers. A gastropub is much more than just good food. As any good restaurant knows it’s also about what you do in the pauses between the beats.
They’ve nailed the food. Absolutely nailed it. Nailed the balance between cheffy and comforting. Nailed the price point that’s at that golden point of being able to afford a trip a couple of times a month. We eat on the third soft launch, receiving a discount of 30% to do so on our £40 a head bill, and honestly, if it was shit I probably wouldn’t write it, but it’s not so I am. I’m also going back soon to pay the full whack. I might even try to take decent pictures by then.
From the snacks is bouncy focaccia, peppered with verdant extra virgin olive oil and served with a wild garlic butter and whipped pork fat. I don’t even need to tell you which one is best. Padrons, blistered under a drift of maldon salt, and a pair of tiger prawns with a sriracha chef has made in-house because he didn’t like the other options, finished with a spicy oil from the heads because the man is a genius. And the scotch egg, that fucking scotch egg. Straight to number one in the official scotch egg chart; above the one at The Hinds Head, above the one at The Devonshire. Served with a gerkin pickle that Anita correctly identifies as blitzed-up Indian pickle of some kind. Chef is going to be making a lot of scotch eggs, let me tell you that much. I’ll be eating most of them.
There’s a rarebit starter I don’t take a photo of and an asparagus one I do. The rarebit is textbook; waterboarded in Worcestershire sauce until it gives up its secrets of pokey cheese, mustard and, I think, ale. The asparagus is a mixture of green and white, with a fried egg, micro greens and a lick of butter sauce. It’s a fleeting view of May and early June in a few cohesive ingredients.
We ponder on what to order for mains and ultimately decide that we should go pub classics. Battered haddock is a relative steal at £18 given it’s a forearm in length of fish. It’s accurately cooked, with crisp batter, good chips, curry sauce, an excellent tartare, and mushy peas. Basically everything you want from fish and chips. Likewise gammon steak; a smokey, salty assault with a deep fried hash, fried egg, some notional peas, and a mustard and parsley sauce that perhaps needs a little more oomph. The presentation is simple, the flavours anything but.
We order one of every dessert. Not my idea (I think it was Anita’s husbands), but a great one nonetheless. Count among your options an Eton mess that has glorious chewy meringue at its heart, and a chocolate delice that I’ve mostly forgotten. Order instead the peanut butter parfait, salted caramel, and chocolate ice cream that’s effectively a grown-up Snickers, or the sticky toffee pudding which clings to the inside of the treacle tin which does the work of a bowl. I happened to be in the right place at the right time to try an early practice run of this and can tell you it was very good then and excellent now. It’s heady and complex and I know my dad is going to love it.
We drink a bottle of very good white, a glass of an okay Pinot, a bottle of sweet, and some cocktails that include a great negroni (a Bromsgroni?!) around the Bromsgrove area for the first time. I’m not surprised I enjoyed it so much, but what I was surprised at was them firing all guns two days before they officially opened. Sure they’ll be some tweaks but the bones are there; two badass operators and a head chef of the highest calibre. It’s likely they’ll be in the Top 50 Gastropub list soon, and it wouldn’t surprise me if Michelin bestow them with a bib. Who knows. You’ll be seeing me a lot there, that much I can guarantee.
9/10
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