Restaurant Review: The Claret Wine Bar and Bistro in Harrogate

Do people with a loud voice know it or do they just think that megaphone level conversation is normal? We were at The Claret Wine Bar and Bistro, a few doors down from Betty’s on the prime pitch of Montpellier Parade, and as we arrived upstairs, a loud voice was already ricocheting around the dining room. We took in the candlelit room: claret red walls, Toulouse Lautrec period posters, Georgian dining chairs, oak tables, dark wood floorboards, charming bay window tables overlooking Montpellier Gardens (definitely ask for them when booking a foursome). It was all rather 80s but in a good way – warm and inviting, and a healthy change from regulation blond wood minimalism.

Then, with some trepidation, we were allocated a table directly next door and downwind of Noisy Man. He was not chucking out loud, just intrusively loud. We could hardly think, let alone talk, let alone concentrate on the menu. Checking later, there were five starters and mains and some specials: goat’s cheese with pear honey and walnuts; lamb sweetbreads with gribiche sauce; a seafood board and a charcuterie board both to share. Elsewhere, solid English standards of belly pork, rib eye steak and shepherd’s pie.

Our starters were excellent. Potted crabmeat and brown shrimps landed in a miniature Kilner jar. Spreading it over hot toast with a faint lemony and dill tang raised it to seriously good. Black pudding Scotch egg delivered a perfect runny egg hidden inside a layer of black pud and crispy crumbs served with celeriac remoulade. The black pudding also went well with a glass of house claret, a very serviceable number at £3.25 for a 125cl measure. Another page on the wine list is dedicated to more serious stuff from Bordeaux to justify the place’s name.

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All such musings played second fiddle to our Noisy Man neighbour. Perhaps he had a speech problem for his voice was very slurred. Or perhaps he had enjoyed a glass of house claret too many. He lurched across his table. “You’re a lovely girl,” he confided to his companion – and the rest of the room. Then he burped. Bet that works with all the girls. Then he started singing “Row, row, row your boat…” Then, merrily, merrily, he headed for the piano. Had we stumbled into one of The Claret’s advertised weekly Pie and Piano evenings? We were now as fully engaged in the unfolding drama as the staff were bravely pretending not to notice. But after a few dissonant notes his lovely companion decided time was up for Harrogate’s Got Talent. “Come on; let’s go downstairs and have a nice bottle of wine.” A bottle? It seemed gratuitous but downstairs was good. I’d forgotten how rowdy Montpellier Parade could be at 8.30pm on a Wednesday.

Cabaret over, we enjoyed our mains in genteel peace: whole plaice in caper butter was nicely timed though plaice always needs a bit of help – a good dousing with butter to keep it interesting.

When the time came to attack the flip side of the plaice, the caper butter was running short. Waxy heritage potatoes and feisty cavolo nero made up for that small shortcoming. Our other dish was shepherd’s pie. Classically, it’s made with leftover cooked lamb. I’ll allow fresh lamb but it remains essentially a simple dish of mince, onions and a topping of creamy mash, scorched by the grill. The lamb was moist and juicy, the top a nice soft mash, diced carrot fine, but I’m not totally convinced about the broad beans. It was prettily presented in its own pie dish with a miniature sauté pan of buttery peas, gem lettuce and little onions, delivered on a wooden board. I liked the little dish; I liked the dinky pan of peas; but transferring peas to pie in one confident forkful called for dexterity beyond me.

For dessert, blackberry and almond mess was layered in a glass tumbler, topped with meringue, It was a deliciously creamy, crunchy mess but connoisseurs of Eton mess and the like will know that the mess is the thing and the tumbler arrangement made it tricky to get a perfectly mixed up, messed up mouthful every time. We were looked after with impeccable manners by a handsome chap with a splendid moustache and the equally splendid handle of D’Arcy Bleiker. He looked ready to audition at a moment’s notice for an Italian opera. Indeed, he and his wife Anna, co-owners, are both professional opera singers who juggle family life and running a restaurant with a diary of international singing engagements. They even combine bistro and bass baritone with regular opera evenings at The Claret (£50 for four courses and a string of arias.) If you are not an opera buff, you might also know them from the Malt Shovel at Brearton which D’Arcy and Anna recently ran with his parents, Jurg and Jane Bleiker. Jurg still oversees the kitchen at Brearton, cooking the sort of dishes that put him in the food guides throughout the 70s when the Old Deanery at Ripon served good food before anyone else in North Yorkshire had thought of it. He went on to create Bleiker’s Smokehouse and latterly the Malt Shovel. Now the Bleikers junior are flying solo and they have created something commendable: a charming bistro in a charming location with a fairly priced menu of comforting, contemporary dishes. And in Jonathan Elvin, with a CV that includes Claridges and the Star at Harome, they also seem to have a chef capable of hitting high notes of his own. Certainly more appealing than the music generated by Noisy Man.

The Claret Wine Bar & Bistro, 5-7 Montpellier Parade, Harrogate, HG1 2TJ. T: 01423 562468; [email protected]; www.theclaret.co.uk. Price: Dinner for two including coffee, wine and service £83.

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