Pint Shop
LIGHT AT THE END OF THE TUNNEL
Another Villa match and another defeat although, given its regularity, it’s nothing a Sunday roast won’t fix. We’ve already done a post-match pint at The Barton Arms, so it’s 4.30 by the time the four of us jump in a cab to the Lord Clifden. But our disappointment is rudely reawakened by the appalling news they’re already out of roasts.
Never mind, optimism takes charge and it’s only a 10 minute walk into the Jewellery Quarter to The Red Lion, where we triumphantly grab the only vacant table in the otherwise packed bar and order a round of beers. We settle in, flash through the menu and Steve heads back to the bar with the food order, only to then discover it’s a minimum two-hour wait if you haven’t already booked.
Phone calls to The Pig & Tail, 1000 Trades, Saint Paul’s House and The Queen’s Arms all draw blanks. By now it’s way past 5.30 and even with pints in hand, it’s pushed our disappointment into the realm of bereavement.
I’m feeling under pressure as the man supposedly in the know when it comes to eating out in Birmingham. In the desperate hope something will materialise out of nothing, I suggest we walk into town; Cam’s got to get a train back to London anyway.
By the time Colmore Row is in sight, I’m suggesting alternatives—a curry at Asha’s, pizza at Rudy’s or Mexican at Bodega Cantina—even though it feels like we’re trading the promise of the Holy Grail for a plastic cup. And then, I spot the Pint Shop, shimmering like a mirage. I stride ahead, toward the gold-framed menu, shining like treasure at the entrance… and Halle-bloody-lujah! They serve roasts until 9pm on a Sunday.
There are options for 1 course for £14, 2 courses for £18 or 3 courses for £22, but we’re only after the main event. There’s beef, pork or nut roast, all are served with roast potatoes, seasonal veg, greens, & Yorkshire pudding. So that’s a roast rump beef and horseradish cream and a side of truffle baked cauliflower cheese for me, two nut roasts with squash gravy for the two vegetarians and Steve opts for a dirty burger and fries. On any other day I could easily be seduced by the filthy promise of a beef & pork patty, mature Cheddar, truffle cheese sauce, crispy chilli pork ends and hand cut chips, but not after everything we’ve been through to get to this point.
I like Pint Shop; it’s the kind of pub that puts a smile on my face, not least the longish bar full of beer taps. It’s a smart but unpretentious place with a contemporary aesthetic whilst remaining sympathetic to its Victorian shell. It’s bang next door to The Wellington—also specialising in craft ales—but any similarities stop there. If they were the Beatles, the Wellington is pre-Strawberry Fields and mostly black and white, whereas Pint Shop is Technicolor Sergeant Pepper.
The Library
Bar area
The main room is fairly sparsely populated and there aren’t many eating. Even the upstairs dining room is empty, so it doesn’t take long for the food to arrive. The roasts are piled high on the plate and there are four slices of mostly medium to well done beef, for which I’m prepared to cut some slack, given it’s now approaching 7 o’clock. However, they do have an unappealing texture, like thin sliced, supermarket beef you get out the packet for sandwiches. But the rest of the plate delivers with a large, gnarled Yorkshire pudding, stack of gorgeously crunchy roast potatoes, tenderstem with the right bite, a decent pile of roast carrots and it’s all ankle deep in gravy. Although, spuds apart, with just two vegetables on the plate, the promise of seasonal veg and greens is as thin as the beef. It also takes a trip to the bar to request the horseradish cream, which doesn’t arrive until I’m half finished.
Roast beef
The cauliflower cheese has good bite and a cheesy crust intensified by its blast under the grill. Unfortunately it’s obliterated any potential hint of truffle but more critically there’s absolutely no sauce. For a fiver, it’s almost as big a disappointment as the last minute defeat.
Truffle baked cauliflower cheese
To be honest, I’m that hungry I’d probably have accepted a Sunday roast ready meal and with all the trials and tribulations of getting to this point, I certainly can’t knock the flavours and I duly scoff the lot.
As for the others; Cam—a newly converted vegetarian—is happy enough with his nut roast, although Richard—who has been a vegetarian long before the term was even invented—thinks it’s just alright. He’s had a lot better. Across the table the roast deserter has a minor grumble about the burger and chips being lukewarm, but he’s happy with the flavours.
With two gin and tonics, a pint of Reveller cider and large glass of Malbec du Cahors—a perfect accompaniment for any roast—we’re looking at £22 a head, so the day hasn’t ended too badly and the cruel whiff of optimism returns with talk of our upcoming trip to Wembley.
WORTH A TRY
38 Bennetts Hill Birmingham, B2 5SN
