The Barton Arms
DARE TO DREAM
It could be the greatest day of sport ever. This afternoon it’s the arrival at Villa Park of Liverpool, the current European champions and league leaders. Before that, it’s the Rugby World Cup Final; I’m dreaming of a famous double victory that’ll live long in the memory.
It’s a 9 am kick off, so we’re meeting in the pub to watch, although the disciplined amongst us have postured a midday curfew on the first pint. But we’re as weak as England’s scrum and break free of that particular shackle, just ahead of the Springbok’s deserved triumph. Never mind, with a full English breakfast to line our stomachs, our minds turn to the football, after which we’ve got a table booked at The Barton Arms for some Thai food.
I can vividly remember my first Thai meal as clearly as I can remember the birth of my daughter; it was almost as momentous. This was back in the early-mid 90s Birmingham when we were excited about Café Rouge opening up in the newly emerging BrindleyPlace. So, on a shopping trip to old London town, coming across a Thai restaurant felt like being on an Apollo mission and the food was every bit as out of this world.
I fell head over heels in love with the freshness of its many layers of flavours, fragrances and aromatics suffused with a hint of spicy heat too. My taste buds could never have imagined such pleasures existed.
But it’s no surprise with a roll call of ingredients, such as zesty and peppery galangal, wonderfully fragrant kaffir lime leaves, citrusy lemongrass with its hint of mint, sweet but tart tamarind, anise-intensified Thai basil, along with the velvety comfort blanket of coconut milk. Throw in chilli, garlic, coriander and every base is covered from sweet to savoury and sour.
Then there’s fish sauce with its bucketfuls of umami—that magical, can’t quite put your finger on it ‘flavour’. I could never be a vegetarian whilst there’s fish sauce in this world. Used judiciously, its pungent fermented fishiness completely disperses into the dish, deepening, enhancing and amplifying everything it touches. It’s the crack cocaine of food.
But somewhere, somehow Thai food lost its magnetic pull; maybe it was too much of a good thing or familiarity breeding contempt. But, it couldn’t be better set up for today to re-ignite those stellar culinary delights.
With fresh pint in hand, the first task is attempting to make my way through the extensive menu without reading glasses. I eventually get my hands on the pair being passed around the table, but my excitement lasts only momentarily as the starters turn out to be a hackneyed list of mostly deep-fried options and mostly with sweet chilli f****** sauce .
Never mind interstellar travel, this feels like being stuck in Friday evening ‘rush hour’. I’m so perplexed, I have to ask the waitress to choose for me; she picks the Tempura King Prawns with sweet chilli f******* sauce. I immediately want to dismiss her suggestion but—as last in line and with everyone waiting for me—I accept my fate.
As for the main, I’m in the mood for a Lamb Massaman Curry. Done right it’s slow cooked so the meat is meltingly soft in a rich and velvety sauce with the full harmony of the more aromatic Thai flavours. On the side I choose the Coconut Rice – jasmine fragrant rice steamed with coconut milk.
We’re usually here just for the beer; it’s our regular for a couple of pints and post match analysis whilst the post-match traffic eases. Built in 1901, it’s a Grade 2 listed late-Victorian gem of a pub; it’s a living museum with all original mahogany panelling, stained windows, engraved mirrors and wall-to-wall glazed Minton-Hollins tiles.
It’s a fantastic place to be sat hungry, waiting for your food; fortunately it arrives quickly. In front of me there are four on the large-size king prawns, inside perfectly firm and juicy but looking and crunching chip shop-battered. Oh, and the small dish of sweet chilli f****** sauce straight from the f****** jar.
Then, my Massaman curry arrives, looking the part—some largish chunks of lamb and potato and chopped peanut and coriander garnish. I’m immediately hit by the power of the sauce; it’s deep and just the right side of being over salted. But, by the third mouthful, it’s just flat-lined. The overuse of fish sauce has smashed out any nuance and subtleties of aromatics, fragrance or flavour—nothing tart, sweet, sour, citrusy, peppery or zesty. The very chewy lamb ensures my disappointment lasts through the whole dish.
With a couple of pints each, it all comes to £30 a head, including a tip. So, with Villa managing to lose despite leading with just three minutes to go, the day has ended up with a hat trick of defeats and nothing at all worth remembering.
