On a summer's evening, with the patio doors flung open to admit the cooling breeze coming in from the square, this is a lovely little fastness to hole up in.
Scrubbed brick walls, straight-backed banquettes and wooden-slatted chairs reclaimed from a Victorian primary school, make it clear that the emphasis is on the food, not the fittings.
The daily-changing menu is chalked up on a board and it's all about freshness and seasonality. It was one of those menus where you'd like a few more stomachs, much like a cow, in order not to have decide.
My Dad was a very happy dining partner, because his favourite was on the menu. Whole plaice and brown shrimp. It was a tense moment checking they still had some left (see Social Eating House) and I only felt I could relax after his order had been accepted by the kitchen. Phew. I ate smoked eel.
On a totally peripheral note, they have a nice knack of cutting lemons in a shallow way so that you don't get any pips when you come to squeeze it. Far nicer than those Women's Institute style muslin wrappers that lemons usually come in, or the metal paper-clip style squeezer you get on Indian starters, next to the raita.
The colourful hipsters of Hoxton streaming through the doors were a source of amusement to my Dad. Including one girl wearing a floppy hat with a wider brim than that absurd hat of Andie McDowell's in Four Weddings a Funeral.
All in all, the vibe is nice and I think it's good value for well-cooked, simple yet engaging dishes. Nice staff and an imaginative wine list to boot.
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