Portabello in Summertown

The problem with sticking one’s neck out is that it’s very easy to cut off. Just one fell swoop will do it, which Giles Coren managed quicker than Dr Guillotine could ever aspire to.

To cut a long story short, he reviewed The Oxford Kitchen in Saturday’s Times. To say he didn’t like it is akin to Hitler enjoying Jesse Owens’ win in the 1936 Olympics. And, in so doing, Mr Coren let go of the blade as surely as the chief executioner himself.

The problem being, of course, that I raved about my visit to The Oxford Kitchen from the rooftops. In fact they had to pull me down in case of noise abatement such was my enthusiasm, because the food was fantastic.

Giles Coren blew that apart as surely as if he’d mined the water himself. And I really can’t blame him, although he managed, as always, to patronise wherever he frequents outside of London before inserting the knife and twisting. He surpassed himself this week however with his summary of Summertown as “a forgotten town in the Thames Valley floodplain with a small pretty bit in the centre full of Chinese tourists in plastic outerwear, where eating out has historically meant a chain pizza or Tesco sarnie followed by a pint and a fight”. As my colleague suggested, maybe he went to Didcot instead by mistake.

Coren then went on to decimate The Oxford Kitchen. And it wasn’t pretty. But then he was angry, understandably so, so angry in fact that entire sentences were TYPED IN CAPITAL LETTERS TO EMPHASISE HIS POINT. But then if I’d taken my kids there for lunch and it had taken 1hr and 20 mins for the food to arrive, I’D HAVE BEEN ANGRY TOO.

We all know that children have the attention span of a goldfish with dementia. Food has to be immediate or there’s no point and if you offer a children’s menu you should know that. It’s not about the foam or the tuile, it’s about serving people’s food up on time.

So I did what any dignified woman whose reputation is in tatters would do under the circumstances and went somewhere safe, and reassuringly consistent, even if still in the ‘forgotten town in the Thames Valley floodplain…’ Portabello is a lovely, unpretentious restaurant in South Parade where you can take your kids, mother or best friend and have a great meal. Owner Jon Ellse, who owns Mamma Mia and more recently took over The Perch in Binsey, has given it a great refurb to bring the interior up to spec, creating a contemporary but gentle welcoming space that’s as good for its cocktails and bar lounging as it is for dinner.

We did both as it turns out, well can you blame me after such a public humiliation? And I can report that the cocktails were fabulous, lit up in flames by the nimble barman before I slurped my rhubard Martini.

The food follows suit. The menu was extraordinary actually in that everything sounded wonderful, a gourmet version of gastro alliteration, the food combinations rendering us incapable of making a decision — pigeon with beetroot and blackberries or rabbit, pork and pistachio, lamb rump parsley crust and sprouting broccoli or spinach and pine nut cakes with tomato and olive salsa? Culinary prose. You’ll appreciate our dilemma.

In fact the menu was so comforting I nearly lay my recently severed head down on the table and wept. It tasted as good as it sounded as well, the Stornoway black pudding with mustard, cream leeks and poached egg (£6) a dizzying combination of textures and flavours. The Yorkshire blue, fig and onion tart was a delicate little flower, the cheese embracing rather than overpowering its fellow ingredients.

Main course-wise, the choice was again overwhelming, but having coveted the Omelette Arnold Bennett (£7.50) on the brunch menu for months I asked if there was any way I might try that instead and luckily the chef had all the ingredients to hand. The smoked haddock, hollandaise and parmesan combination was an absolute treat. I did nibble on my friend’s Cornish mackerel with chorizo, leeks and crispy onions (£15.50), another gift of a dish, as was the calves liver, crispy bacon and mustard mash (£14.50) which was beautifully presented and a neat portion rather than man-sized, which suited us down to the ground.

The food was excellent in a remarkably undemonstrable way, the dishes stroking my poor battered nerves like a massage therapist, which restored my faith in Oxford. Because it’s too easy to be diverted by all the new swanky joints opening up while forgetting about the old faithfuls cooking continuously good food night after night, year after year. So here’s to you all.

As for Oxford Kitchen, sod Coren! I know how good you are and so do you. The proof will be in what you do next.

Portabello
7 South Parade, Summertown,
OX2 7LJ
01865 559653 portabellorestaurant.co.uk

Opening times: Food served 9.30am -10.30pm seven days a week.
Parking: Tricky but possible.
Key personnel: Owner Jon Ellse, restaurant manager Sebastian Speke, head chef Craig Thomson.
Make sure you try the... Weekend Brunch Menu, served noon-6pm which includes eggs Benedict, Florentine or Arlington or soft poached eggs, English muffin, beechwood smoked ham, baby spinach or smoked salmon and hollandaise £8. Sweetcorn pancakes with dry-cured bacon and maple syrup £8. There is also a children’s menu (if you dare) for £7.50 including dessert — choose from crispy fish and chips, peas and tartare sauce; free-range sausages with chunky chips; chargrilled free-range chicken with fries or rocket salad or penne pasta with choice of sauce or Sunday roast
(£1.50 supplement).
In ten words: A constant Oxford staple. One for the little black book.