The High Field
A STING IN THE TAIL
We’re invited to join in celebrations for a friend’s birthday, but our diaries conspire to present only an opportunity for Sunday lunch. I’m suggesting non-roast options, but it’s his day, so it’s his choice. But I do manage to steer us towards The High Field—in my recent run of Sunday roasts, I’ve tried and failed to get a table here twice.
Checking online on Wednesday evening, the earliest availability for seven is 4pm, which is fine by me but kids are involved. I’m passing by there tomorrow, so decide to go old school and see if I can get a better outcome in person. I ask for 2 o’clock, which doesn’t garner much encouragement, although after a good five minutes juggling table combinations, I’m offered 1.30 as long as we can vacate by 3.30. In the grand scheme of things, that’s perfect.
There are four ‘roasts’ on offer; Aubrey’s dry-aged rump of beef—offered pink or well done, roast leg of pork and crackling, a chicken supreme special and a vegetable Wellington (celeriac and mushroom). All served with roast potatoes, seasonal vegetables, roasted roots, Yorkshire pudding and jugs of gravy.
We all pass on starters, going straight for the main event—there are five pink beefs, a Wellington and a roast pork. We also order sides; a red cabbage; sage and onion stuffing; and four cauliflower cheeses along with two bottles of Primitivo (£27.50)— ‘made using the best grapes from very old vines - rich, intense & marvellously fruity’—and that it is.
Beyond the small bar area as you walk in, it’s more restaurant than pub. It’s a space that maximises opportunity for natural light, with skylights and wall to ceiling sliding doors. It’s comfortable, elegant and classy; a mix of zoned areas featuring warm textiles, elegant lighting and a modern design aesthetic. It’s pretty much full of the first wave of diners, so there’s a good energy and buzz of conversation; much more than I’m used to at this hour on a Sunday, but I ease in with a bitter shandy.
The food arrives looking highly promising; a pile of roast carrots and parsnips; a huge, risen and gnarled Yorkshire pudding; a couple of large, lightly golden roast potatoes, over which sits the perfectly pink beef—although, there are just three smallish slices off the ‘thin end’. There are sharing bowls of shredded greens and broccoli, a jug of gravy and various jars of Tracklements condiments, covering all potential bases. I immediately order more gravy and a large jug swiftly arrives.
The Wellington and roast pork both get the thumbs up too, but the sides don’t all meet the same benchmark. The cauliflower cheese lacks any kind of crust, but it has bite and there’s plenty of sauce, although it needs more cheese. The red cabbage is pale, dry and too winter-spiced for my palate, although the stuffing is a delight; like croquette balls, they deliver a lovely, peppery warmth from the sage. I wish we’d ordered more.
At roughly the halfway point, the waitress returns with a large serving tray of extra Yorkshires and roasties. These potatoes are absolutely spot on, with a thick golden crunch, scraped off the bottom of the roasting dish. The fresh batch of Yorkshires are as textbook as the first lot, so my plate is full again and that’ll require more gravy. Another large jug swiftly arrives.
Despite the paucity of beef—a view shared across the table—it’s a great couple of plates of food and as everybody knows, a great Sunday roast demands pudding.
We order a Chocolate Brownie, salted ice cream and honeycomb; three Crumbles of the Day ‘apple and cinnamon’ served with custard; and I’ve gone for the Apple Tarte Tatin and vanilla ice cream. Unfortunately, this turns out to be an anaemic disk of barely-baked puff pastry with a few pieces of stewed apple simply placed on top and no buttery caramel stickiness. This is so wide of the mark; at £6.75 it properly deserves to be called a ‘cheat’s version’.
With a round of drinks and two large bottles of fizzy water, the bill comes in at £254.05 - £40 a head with tip. It’s very much at the better—but more expensive—end of our recent run of Sunday roasts. It feels more restaurant than pub, but it’s a well-run, comfortable, vibrant dining space; just right for the occasion.
It’s a shame about such a disappointing end and almost unbelievable my dessert comes from the same kitchen as the roast. There are no dessert wines available either—not that my tarte Tatin deserved it—but puzzling given it’s a well-curated and fairly extensive wine list. At least it encourages us to wander over the road to The Edgbaston for espresso martinis and end things on the right note.
RECOMMENDED (without dessert)
