I have retired Rosecroft Avenue and am now concentrating on my blog at Blacksilverpress.com.
Cheers,
Michael
Monday, June 20, 2011
Sunday, June 5, 2011
The Old Man of Sunny Field
This stone face adorns the left gatepost of a large stone-and-iron gate embossed "Sunny Field," at the junction of West Heath Road and Platt's Lane. There is no field here now; the gate is backed by the back fence of someone's back garden. It appears there once was open land here called Sunnyfield: it is referenced in this oral memoir of the late 19th Century from the Child's Hill Baptist Church, and in this 1902 Report of the Hampstead Scientific Society. How long the Old Man has been here I do not know, nor how long he will gaze forlornly across the road toward the West Heath. He is another of those frozen moments of time that make life here so interesting.
Saturday, May 28, 2011
Ferncroft Avenue (Sunset)
The trees so severely trimmed by the Borough of Camden earlier in the spring are now beginning to sprout tiny leaves, giving them an unshaven look against this late May sunset along Ferncroft Avenue.
Friday, May 27, 2011
Naked in NW3
This past spring, the Borough of Camden sent in a team of acrobats with a chain saw and wood chipper to strip naked most of the trees in The Crofts area of Hampstead. This one is on Hollycroft Avenue. (9 May 2011)
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
On Hampstead Heath: The West Heath, Pt. 2
We’ve discussed why the West Heath is (or, more accurately, was) a “heath.” Today we’ll look at some of the West Heath’s history and major landmarks.
Location, Location
As the map shows, the West Heath is a rough triangle proceeding west from Whitestone Pond, bounded by West Heath Road to the south and North End Way to the north. Golders Hill Park is adjacent along the western boundary. To the southeast of a jog in West Heath Road is the former site of Branch Hill Pond—now a mere grass-filled depression—famously painted by Constable. The southwestern edge of the West Heath is about 300 yards from our front door; we consider the West Heath to be “our” section of the Heath.
In general, the West Heath slopes gently upward from southwest to northeast, but the terrain is relatively flat in comparison to much of the rest of the heath. (We will discuss some reasons for that at a later date.) This relatively flat terrain was one reason why the West Heath was a popular venue for horse racing in the early 18th Century.
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| Sandy Road |
Features Galore!
Sandy Road is a wide, unpaved track that runs along the western edge of the West Heath, from Platt’s Lane to North End Way—our route to the Old Bull & Bush, in fact. One might easily assume that Sandy Road was conceived and built as a footpath, as might be found in any large park. One would be mistaken. Sandy Road was a true road—before the Heath became a public trust in 1872 and Platt’s Farm was developed into The Crofts in the 1890s, Sandy Road was the continuation of Platt’s Lane, linking Child’s Hill to North End and Spaniard’s Road. For centuries, this was probably the main route for carrying produce from the surrounding farmland (including Wyldes Farm) to market in London, via the Roman-laid Watling Street (now Kilburn High Road and Edgware Road).
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| Leg o' Mutton Pond, December 2010 |
About 100 yards along Sandy Road from Platt’s Lane, one finds Leg o’Mutton Pond. Like the other large ponds on the Heath, Leg o’ Mutton is man made, dug in 1816 as part of a relief program for unemployed laborers during the depression that followed the Napoleonic Wars. (Sandy Road also was raised and improved as part of the same relief effort.) The pond is naturally maintained, however, filled by two spring-fed streams that flow across the West Heath and ultimately into the Brent River, and thence to the Thames. During the Nineteenth Century, the pond was popular for summer bathing and angling (though one wonders from whence came the fish).
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| The Pergola |
Among the more interesting features on the West Heath are the Pergola and Hill Garden. These features are comprised of a manicured, formal garden with terraces arranged around a long, rectangular lily pond, and an elaborate 800 foot-long, Italian Renaissance-style pergola, complete with climbing vines. When happened upon from the south or east, these features rise quite unexpectedly from the wilds of the Heath, and are a delightful surprise. Why are they here, and why are they part of the Heath?
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| Public Right-of-Way, The Pergola |
As one might expect, the answers to these questions make an interesting tale. In 1905, the wealthy soap magnate William Lever, Lord Leverhulme, purchased an estate on North End Way called The Hill, which commanded magnificent views to the north, over the (then, still unwooded) West Heath. Lord Leverhulme loved to throw magnificent garden parties. To that end, he purchased a neighboring property called Heath Lodge, with the intent of demolishing the house and replacing it with a garden. Unfortunately for Lord Leverhulme, there was a public right-of-way—a simple footpath, really—between The Hill and Heath Lodge. Despite Lord Leverhulme’s best efforts, he could not extinguish the right of way. This meant that anyone strolling on the Heath could stop and gawk at the Lord’s garden parties.
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| The Hill Garden Pond |
Lord Leverhulme turned to renowned landscape architect Thomas Mawson to resolve the problem. Mawson designed the Hill Garden, and the Pergola to provide private access over the right-of-way to the Hill Garden. The design and construction of the Pergola took 20 years, including a lengthy interruption during the Great War.
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| The Pergola, Detail |
Almost immediately after the Pergola was completed in 1925, Lord Leverhulme died. The Hill was acquired by shipping magnate Baron Inverforth and renamed Inverforth House; Baron Inverforth lived there until his own death in 1955. He willed the property to Manor House Hospital, and it was used as a convalescent home. The Pergola and Hill Gardens were purchased and added to the Heath in 1960, although by then they were in poor condition. A thorough renovation was carried out in the early 1990s, and the areas were reopened to the public in 1995. Inverforth House was subsequently sold and subdivided into flats, data from 2007 indicates that each was then valued at around £4 million.
I suppose the Gibbet Elms are no long a feature as they no longer exist, but they’re another good West Heath story. In March, 1674, a highwayman named Francis Jackson and his gang robbed two coaches in Hounslow (not far from where Heathrow Airport is now). The gang was spotted as they neared Acton (then a tiny farming village to the west of London), and they suddenly found themselves pursued by a posse of 40-to-50 men. A running battle ensued across much of Middlesex County. The gang reached Hampstead Heath hours later, exhausted and their powder and shot used up, where they were ambushed by 200 men. The gang held them off for nearly an hour before they were taken. During the resistance, Jackson killed one of the local Hampstead men. Jackson was hanged, and his corpse returned to the Heath and gibbeted from an elm tree, only a few feet from where the Hill Garden sits now. The corpse hung there for 18 years. The last of the Gibbet Elms blew down in 1907.
References:
A. Farmer, Hampstead Heath (1984)
C. Wade, Hampstead Past (1989)
D. McDowall & D. Wolton, The Walker’s Guide: Hampstead Heath (2006 ed.)
D. Wolton & D. McDowall, Hampstead Heath (2007)
http://www.cityoflondon.gov.uk/NR/rdonlyres/B5F7A42F-FA5A-4087-A3A4-C3FFE907EB2D/0/OS_HH_pergola.pdf
Monday, March 28, 2011
On Hampstead Heath: The West Heath, Pt. 1
We have so far discussed Golders Hill Park and the Hampstead Heath Extension, both of which were relatively late additions to the Heath, added in 1898 and 1907, respectively. In contrast, the West Heath has been a part of the Heath for all of recorded history.
Prelude: What is a ‘Heath,’ Anyway?
“Heath” is one of those peculiarly English words (like “moor” and “dale”) that most Americans have heard but never use. I always assumed that “heath” was a posh synonym for “park.” It is not, of course; indeed, the Heath was called such for centuries before it was a public open space.
Rather, a “heath” is a type of terrain: specifically, “a large open area, usually with sandy soil and scrubby vegetation, esp heather.“[1] This is precisely what the Heath was, and why it persisted as open land when all of the surrounding land was used for agriculture. The reason for this is geological. The top layer of soil on the Heath is a type of sand called Bagshot, deposited by a river flowing from the west of England approximately 40 million years ago. This sandy topsoil is acidic and infertile, and therefore unsuitable for agriculture. For this reason the Heath was not farmed, but instead was used as the village “common” of the Manor of Hampstead where, under English manorial tradition, the commoners had the right to graze animals on the scrubby flora, to cut turf for fuel and building materials, and to dig sand.
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| Bog, West Heath |
Beneath the sand is a transitional layer called the Claygate Beds, which in turn covers a deeper layer of stiff, bluish London clay. In the lower portions of the Heath, where less sand was deposited and more has eroded away, these deeper layers have been exposed, and trees and grasses more typical of the region have sprung up.
This geology also accounts for another dominant feature of the Heath: its perpetual damp. Rainwater—of which the Heath receives copious amounts—drains easily down through the sandy layers. When the water hits the denser layers below, it moves horizontally, eventually seeping out of the ground, creating boggy conditions or collecting into streams. The Heath is thus the source of five rivers that empty into the Thames, although all are now channeled underground: the Fleet, the Holborn, the Tyburn, the Kilburn (Westbourne), and the Brent.
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| West Heath |
The West Heath: Back to Nature
I’ve just told you that the West Heath is part of the original Heath, and that heathland is characterized by low scrubby vegetation such as heather. Why, then, do all of our photos of the West Heath look like they were taken in woodland? The answer lies in prehistory.
As explained by Wolton & McDowall,[2] heathland is rarely naturally occurring. Rather, it typically occurs when areas of well-draining, acidic sandy soil—such as that on the Heath—are cleared of trees and shrubbery and used to graze livestock. Over time, the grazing alters the flora into the scrubby heather and gorse typical of heathland. The remains of a Mesolithic-period encampment on the West Heath, near Leg o’ Mutton Pond, suggest that the West Heath was cleared of its original vegetation as early as 7,000 years ago, and the land probably was used for grazing thereafter until well into the Nineteenth Century. Indeed, John Constable’s 1821-1822 painting of the West Heath, West End Fields, Hampstead, noon, depicts a flock of sheep grazing on typically open heathland.The grazing of livestock on the West Heath stopped, of course, when the Heath (then comprised of 220 acres of the West Heath, the Sandy Heath, and the East Heath) passed into the public trust in January 1872. In the ensuing 140 years, the West Heath has been recolonized by trees and shrubbery; birch trees, in particular, are known to thrive on open, acidic ground, and many large, mature birch trees now thrive in the West Heath.[3]
In Part 2, we look at the landmarks of the West Heath. |
| 19th C. Jazz, West Heath |
Sunday, March 6, 2011
North London Pub of the Year Ballot: My Vote
I fully realize that I can't possibly assess the true character of a pub in a single visit, particularly when I visited some in that sleepy period shortly after opening and others in the full swing of a busy Saturday night. I also did not eat in any of these pubs, which might disadvantage those that emphasize food. And, of course, what I want from my pub may not be the same thing you want from your pub. But life ain't fair, so save your complaints and cast your own vote!
So here they are, ranked in order. I will say that the top two were very difficult to separate, with the final ranking decided on location and my personal preferences in comfort and decor:
1. The Southampton Arms
What an absolute gem. The Southampton Arms, tucked away in a Highgate Road storefront in Kentish Town, combines an outstanding selection of English craft ales and ciders -- twelve handpumps for beer and six for cider -- with the rustic, lived-in comfort of the best English pubs. The server knew the characteristics of the beers he was pouring and was able to give an intelligent, nuanced recommendation. If this place were any closer to home, I would happily kick back in the church pew beside the open fire every day, from the minute they opened until they chucked me out at closing time. My selection for North London Pub of the Year.
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| The Southampton Arms gets my vote for North London Pub of the Year! |
2. The Jolly Butchers
The Jolly Butchers would be perfectly at home if someone plucked it from the busy streets of Stoke Newington and plopped it back down in Santa Monica, somewhere between The Library Alehouse and Father's Office. This is more beer bar than pub -- which is not a bad thing -- with a young and vibrant crowd filling the clean, modern interior with a definite buzz. The selection of English craft brews is good, and The Jolly Butchers boasts a better selection of international beers than The Southampton Arms. The delicious Belgian Mort Subite Kriek and Sierra Nevada Pale Ale, among others, were on draught, and a broad range of international beers (including Brooklyn Brewery and Flying Dog) is available in bottles. (Might there be a Stone or Russian River or Lagunitas beer pouring here in the near future? We California expats can only hope.) The servers knew their beers and seemed genuinely excited about them. The Jolly Butchers was edged out of my top spot only by The Southampton Arms's inviting, relaxed atmosphere and its Kentish Town location, but on a different day I might well have made a different decision.
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| The Jolly Butchers, a solid second. |
3. North Nineteen
Wrapped inside a bland exterior in a charmless Upper Holloway neighborhood is North Nineteen, the sort of cosy family pub and restaurant that deserves to be the center of community life. The interior is newly refurbished and it makes no effort to simulate period charm -- it is unpretentious, clean and modern. The front bar has a large open fireplace and a flat screen TV for the friendly local Arsenal supporters, and a small dining room off to the side. The back bar (go through the gents) has darts and another fireplace. Nine handpumps, three in front and six in back, and a good selection of whiskies as well. The service was notably amiable and efficient. Were I not on a mission of my own, I would have been content to sit in the bar and watch football all afternoon.
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| The back bar at North Nineteen, empty on a Saturday afternoon, no doubt awaiting the punters' return from the Arsenal match at the Emirates. |
4. The Charles Lamb
The Charles Lamb is exceptional in two ways: it is exceptionally charming, and it is exceptionally small. The place is all white and pale green with simple, clean lines, and it has a slightly feminine air about it. This is a pleasant change from the overtly masculine, dark-and-dingy decor of many neighborhood pubs (an aesthetic epitomized by the fading glory of the Lamb's endangered neighbor, The Wenlock Arms). But its diminutive size is an inconvenience. We were able to find seats after only a short wait at the bar on our late Saturday evening visit, but I have been to the Lamb on a Saturday afternoon and had difficulty getting through door for the crowd. The Lamb has only three handpumps (I doubt there is space for any more).
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| Charming, but too small. |
5. The Duke of Wellington
There seems to be some sort of magical effect in operation at The Duke of Wellington: Whenever a seat is opened up, whether at a table or at the bar, it is instantly filled, and yet one never can tell from whence the people come -- the place never seems to be crowded, and no one ever seems to be waiting for a chair. It's almost as if the punters are a liquid, flowing in at the same rate as they flow out, always finding their own level.
That said, I found The Duke of Wellington to be pleasant but entirely unexceptional. The interior decor is minimalist to the point of nonexistence; the exterior is unremarkable, and there is nothing to recommend a visit to its Dalston location.
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| The Duke of Wellington: Not a serious contender. |
6. Three Compasses
I took an instand dislike to Three Compasses, and I'm not sure why. It might have been the toothless drunk at the bar who decided for unknown reasons that I was the perfect audience for his harangue about the poor service he was receiving, or perhaps it was the surly server who promptly demonstrated that his complaints were justified. The front bar was fine but unexceptional; I did not like the cavern-like back bar, which seemed a bit of a Chucky Cheese-style game room for obnoxious groups of beer drinking teens and 20-somethings. The selection of cask ales was decent, particularly if you are a fan of Redemption Brewing, and the Redemption Pale Ale I had was fine. But I did not linger over it, and I will not return for another.
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| Last place: Three Compasses |
Saturday, March 5, 2011
Ridiculously Ambitious Birthday Plans
To elevate the task to the ridiculous, I've added a couple of non-candidate pubs to the list as options. These are pubs of high repute that are close to the six candidate pubs, but that are located in areas that otherwise make them inconvenient for me to visit. I have also chosen a pub to end the day with dinner that is not a candidate and is not particularly reputed as a pub-qua-pub, but which is highly rated by the The Good Food Guide 2011
.So without further ado, here's where I plan to spend my 47th birthday, in this order, and here's a link to a Google map showing them all:
The Southampton Arms
Kentish Town
Time Out says, “The idea behind this terrific place is audaciously simple: take a grim old boozer and strip it back to bare floors, dark paint, a few old photos and a working fireplace. . . . Drinking here is a bit like dropping in on an old friend who lives in a slightly shabby but utterly comfortable country cottage. It's a brilliant idea perfectly executed.” The pub has 18 handpumps, pouring exclusively ale and cider from small, independent U.K. breweries.
Transport: London Overground, Finchley Road & Frognal to Gospel Oak. Walk to 139 Highgate Rd. (5 minutes/0.3 miles).
Optional Non-Candidate Stop: The Pineapple
A former local CAMRA Pub of the Year and a Real Heritage Pub. Saved by local activists in 2002 from conversion to offices and flats.
Transport: Walk from The Southampton Arms to 51 Leverton St. (11 minutes/0.5 miles).
North Nineteen
Upper Holloway
A “steak and ale” house, North Nineteen has two separate bars, with three real ales in the front bar and six in the back bar. Also known for its selection of whiskies. Time Out calls it a “gem of a makeover” in an otherwise drab neighborhood.
Transport: Tube to Archway (Northern Line, High Barnet Branch). Walk to 194-196 Sussex Way (15 minutes/0.8 miles).
Three Compasses
Hornsey
Two-time winner of CAMRA National Community Pub of the Year and Local Branch Pub of the Season. The current building dates from 1896 and was extensively refurbished in 2004.
Transport: Walk NE on Sussex Way from North Nineteen to Bavaria Rd (Stop M) (1 min/300 ft). Take Bus 91 to Hornsey Rise. From Stop K, take Bus 41 towards Tottenham Hale to Tottenham Lane/Turnpike Lane. Walk 2 blocks west to 62 High Street.
Optional Non-Candidate Stop: The Salisbury
Harringay
One of the few Grade II* listed pubs in London and a Top 10 Heritage Pub. Built in 1899 in lavish high Victorian style, the pub’s original features—both interior and exterior—have been preserved, and the building was meticulously restored in 2003.
Jolly Butchers
Stoke Newington
Jolly Butchers was reinvented and reopened last April to great acclaim from both the beer community and the wider drinking public—although the fact that its new incarnation was openly modeled on The Southampton Arms did put some noses out of joint. Jolly Butchers has ten handpumps, typically pouring seven cask ales and three ciders, all from independent craft breweries.
Transport:
· From Three Compasses: Walk east to Turnpike Lane Station. From stop Y, take Bus 67 towards Aldgate Bus Station; get off at Stoke Newington Station. Walk south to 204 Stoke Newington High St. (5 min/0.2 miles).
· From The Salisbury: Walk east on St. Ann’s Rd. to St. Ann’s Hospital bus stop (10 min./0.5 miles); take Bus 67 as above.
The Duke of Wellington
Dalston
The Duke of Wellington was established in 1842, and its most recent refurbishment in 2009 was intended to bring it into the 21st century while respecting its tradition. CAMRA North London’s Pub of the Season for Spring 2010.
Transport: From Stoke Newington Station, Stop C, take Bus 149 or 67 to Dalston Junction Station. From station, walk west to 119 Balls Pond Rd. (5 min/0.2 miles).
Optional Non-Candidate Stop: The Wenlock Arms
Islington
Consistently rated one of the best pubs in London by Beer Advocate, is a 4-time CAMRA North London Pub of the Year, and was named a Top Ten pub by Fancyapint in February 2011. The pub was slated for demolition last October; it was saved, but as of February it remained up for sale and its future is uncertain.
Transport: From Duke of Wellington, walk west on Balls Pond Rd to Southgate Rd. Bus Stop. Take Bus 56 (St. Barts) to Angel Station; walk to 26 Wenlock Rd (15 min/0.6 miles).
The Charles Lamb
Islington
The only pub on this list I have already been to, this is an exceptionally charming little pub, unfortunately located across from atrocious blocks of modern flats. The building dates from 1839, but it has only recently been converted to use as a public house and few original features remain. The Charles Lamb Lager is brewed locally by Meantime.
Transport: See Wenlock Arms above.
For Dinner (Non-Candidate): The Albion
Islington
Joint highest rating of London gastropubs from the 2011 Good Food Guide and rated one of the U.K.’s best pubs by The Guardian. Particularly well known for its Sunday lunch menu (the main meal of the week in England).
Transport: Return to Angel Station. Cross Upper St. and head NW on Liverpool Rd to Richmond; W on Richmond; N on Thornhill to 10 Thornhill Rd. (13 min/0.6 miles from Angel).
Sunday, February 20, 2011
Exploring Hampstead: Jazz's Walk, Saturday Afternoon
We took Jazz for a walk through Hampstead in the rain yesterday. Here is some of what we saw. The video frame is going to spill over into the sidebar some, but don't worry about that.
The music is Erik Blood, "To Leave America," from his self-released album, The Way We Live. You can download the song, for free, here.
See if you can spot Jack and Heidi in one shot:
The music is Erik Blood, "To Leave America," from his self-released album, The Way We Live. You can download the song, for free, here.
See if you can spot Jack and Heidi in one shot:
Saturday, February 12, 2011
On Hampstead Heath: The Hampstead Heath Extension
In the late 19th Century, the East London area known as Whitechapel was infamous for crime and poverty, its notoriety peaking between 1888 and 1891 due the Whitechapel Murders – the brutal murders of eleven women, including those attributed to Jack the Ripper. During this time, the vicar of St. Jude’s Church in Whitechapel was Samuel August Barnett; his wife was Dame Henrietta Octavia Weston Barnett, the daughter of a wealthy businessman. Henrietta was a close friend of celebrated social reformer Octavia Hill, who, among other things, was instrumental in preserving the Parliament Hill area of Hampstead Heath as an open space “for the poor.” In 1889, Henrietta and Samuel took a house on Hampstead Heath, near The Spaniards Inn, as a weekend retreat.
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| Wyldes Farmhouse |
From Henrietta’s house on the Heath, she had a magnificent view across Sandy Heath to the 340 acres of adjoining Wyldes Farm. Wyldes had been part of the estates of the Leper Hospital of St. James from medieval times; over the centuries, the hospital accumulated great wealth from the bequests of charitable Londoners. In 1440, however, Henry VI decided all of that wealth could go to a better use and, when he founded Eton College that year, he decreed that Eton should have “perpetual custody” of the hospital. Henry VIII later decided that the site of the hospital would be better suited to a royal manor house, so he acquired the site from Eton, demolished the hospital, and built St. James’ Palace.
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| Heritage Plaque for Linnell and Blake at Wyldes |
Eton retained Wyldes Farm, however, letting it out to farmers and collecting rents. In the early 1800s, Wyldes was let to a dairy farmer named J. Collins, who expanded the farmhouse and, in turn, let rooms to painter John Linnell. Linnell was a great friend of and patron to poet and painter William Blake, and Blake often stayed with Linnell at Wyldes. Wyldes was also home to Charles Dickens for a brief period in 1837; he rented the farmhouse for a few weeks while mourning the death of his sister-in-law. Now a Grade II* listed building, the farmhouse still stands across Hampstead Way from the Heath Extension.
In 1903, Henrietta was horrified to hear of plans to build an underground station at North End, near Wyldes Farm. In addition to the “ruin of the sylvan restfulness” the train line would wreak, Henrietta believed the underground would inevitably result in the development of “rows of ugly villas” such as those that “disfigure[d]” nearby Willesden. Henrietta formed the Hampstead Heath Extension Council for the purpose of raising money to purchase land from Wyldes Farm and add it to the Heath. She succeeded, and in the summer of 1904 the Council purchased for £36,000 the 80 acres of Wyldes Farm adjoining the Sandy Heath.
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| On the Heath Extension. The Garden Suburb visible in the background. |
The result of Henrietta’s labors was the founding in 1907 of Hampstead Garden Suburb, which ultimately grew to 800 acres of meticulously planned and maintained suburbia. The extent to which Henrietta’s original vision ultimately was realized, however, is open to debate. With flats currently on the market priced from £310,000 to £750,000 (and detached houses priced from £2.75 million to £14 million)[2] it’s safe to assume the lower income brackets are not well represented among the Suburb’s inhabitants.
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| Lovely terrace housing in the Garden Suburb |
Although among the least interesting landscapes on the Heath, the Extension remains a lovely park. Its genesis in farmland remains apparent, as the Extension is divided by hedgerows into large, gently rolling paddocks. There is a series of small ponds near the southeastern end, among some reeds and trees, but most of the park is meadowland or, toward the northern end, playing fields for cricket, football and rugby. The Extension is enclosed at the northwest by the Great Wall (perhaps a misnomer – the Very Good Wall or Perfectly Nice Wall might be more fitting). This is a brick wall designed by architect Charles Padget Wade and built between 1909 and 1912; Raymond Unwin, the chief planner of the Garden Suburb, intended the wall to provide a dramatic boundary between the rural Heath and the center of the Garden Suburb.
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| Toward the Great Wall |
A. Farmer, Hampstead Heath (1984), pp. 135-137.
[1] http://www.hgstrust.org/history/index.html (accessed 11 February 2011).
[2] See, e.g., http://www.foxtons.co.uk/properties/uk-london-hampstead-garden-suburb-98/properties-for-sale-in-hampstead-garden-suburb.html (accessed 11 February 2011).
Friday, February 11, 2011
Pubs & Restaurants: The Compass (Islington N1)
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| The Compass, 58 Penton St., Islington |
We found ourselves stranded near St. Pancras of a Saturday lunchtime, and the solution seemed obvious: To Angel we will go. A perfect opportunity to try The Compass, a well-regarded gastropub at the corner of Penton Road and Chapel Market, about 6-minutes walk from Angel Underground.
Great happiness ensued. Here’s why:
First and foremost, the food was delicious. The dishes were well prepared, imaginatively constructed and gorgeously presented. More on that later.
Second, from the clean, simple pub décor to the relaxed banter of our server, we felt wholly welcome, as if we had been regulars for years rather than strangers who happened in off the street. To anthropomorphize, The Compass seems entirely comfortable in its own skin, without a hint of pretense or superciliousness.
Now the details.
The main dining room is a typical pub room, with a dozen or so typical pub tables; there is dark wood everywhere, bathed in soft natural light from the south facing windows. The only clues that this is not a simple neighborhood boozer are the open kitchen tucked in the corner behind the bar, and the fact that all of the tables are set for dining. There are two other families here with babies and prams; it seems we’re finally getting the hang of finding good places to eat at off-peak hours, which certainly makes dining out with a seven-month old and his enormous pram much easier.
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| Heidi and Jack peruse the menu |
The bar offers three cask ales, which the website says are “regularly changing.” Two of the three pouring at our visit—the Adnams Bitter and the Whitstable East India Pale Ale—are also pictured on the website, however, so I can’t vouch for how “regular” that “changing” may be. We started off with the Bath Ales Barnstormer, a deep, reddish-brown bitter that is firmly hopped but well balanced, with hints of fruit and distant echoes of chocolate. The Whitstable IPA, in contrast, was a cloudy pale yellow, with a wonderful hop aroma and fruity late-hop flavor; in my opinion, it was inadequately bittered for the style and ran thin on the tongue. That said, both beers were served in excellent condition.
(The server gave me a wine list, but if you want to know anything about it, you’re reading the wrong review.)
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| Braised featherblade with beetroot and wasabi mash |
The menu is modern English, and our initial reaction was that it promised much – an interesting variety of dishes, with some imaginative combinations. Would the chef’s execution fulfill that promise? We decided to try two very different mains: the braised featherblade[1] with beetroot and wasabi mash, and the whole plaice in a moules marinieres sauce. Both were wonderful.
The featherblade was as enjoyable to look at as to eat: a succulent piece of beef set atop a mound of beet-colored mashed potatoes, swimming in jus, beautifully garnished with contrasting and complementary colors. The star of the dish was the mash, the spicy wasabi playing against the rich, rounded flavors of the braised beef.
The plaice lacked the dramatic flair of the featherblade, but it was a fine dish. It was simply prepared, pan fried in a light batter, served whole, sauced with a restrained moules mariniere. The result was an airy, flavorful mouthful, the mussels in the sauce providing a texture and flavor contrast to the delicate white fish.
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| Whole plaice in sauce moules mariniere |
We finished the meal with a cheese board, on this day including a bleu d’Auvergne, a chevre and a camembert. All three were richly flavored and delicious, each in its own way, and I could kick myself for forgetting to note the cheesemakers!
The verdict: All things considered, possibly the best gastropub experience I’ve had since coming to London. We shall return!
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