Joseph H.
Google
25th April 2025
Ruminating over the last few weeks on restaurant options for a birthday meal, I experienced a curious phenomenon: for some reason, I didn’t feel like just going for a massive juicy steak. Whether or not opting for upscale French cuisine instead is a sign of irreversible progression towards middle age is something I want to spend less time thinking about, but that’s what I did. What sealed the deal in the end, aside from Petit Pois being new and a bit different to what I’d normally choose, was that my usual quick glance at the menu – long enough to gain an impression without ruining the fun of deciding what to eat while actually there – revealed a good half dozen or so listings I really wanted to try. With Mum, Dad and Elle joining us, it felt like a good way to do just that.
Some average olives notwithstanding, that plan began phenomenally. Each of us went for a different entrée, and with my gentle encouragement Dad ordered 12 snails instead of six, and Mum six oysters instead of three. Completing the line-up were scallops, cod fritters in a worryingly-named ‘sauce chien’, and my French onion soup. Without everyone literally trying everything else there was still a lot of swapping and sharing, and the consensus seemed to be that the fritters – crispy on the outside, salty on the inside, with the sauce a sort of fiery chimichurri – came out on top. Dad’s garlic sauce was also very popular, and we ordered bread later to mop it up, but the snails themselves were a bit piddly. I really enjoyed my soup, but found myself trying to offload the giant cheesy ‘croutons’ – a meal in themselves – mostly because I didn’t want to fill up too quickly. I didn’t try any scallop but reviews were good; I’ve had better oysters more than once in Brighton.
Between us, we also managed to sample the halibut fillet, the blood orange duck breast, the cassoulet and the wild mushroom crêpes. There was a lot going on. Strangely the duck was the only thing that came out as a full course, with dauphinois, kale and beautiful blobs of beetroot purée; the cassoulet in particular could have done with a bit of veg but we were all fighting over the one side of delicious sautéed greens we ordered (except Elle, who thought they tasted of mussels). Highlights were the duck itself, high quality and cooked to perfection (although the orange was very much front and centre), and the halibut (although the subtleties of the shellfish velouté were lost on my palette by that stage). The crêpes were the least celebrated: nice enough flavours but heavy and lacking in variety well before the end of the unnecessary second.
Thankfully, it was only after all of that I realised the wall to my back was a ginormous blackboard charcuterie menu, because I would definitely have regrettably tried to squeeze in a few slices of jambon here and a gourmet fromage or two there. As it was, we shared the trio of unfortunate crèmes brûlées instead. I’m not an expert, but the layer of sugar was “too toffee apple” for those round the table in the know – for me the coffee one just didn’t taste very nice and so I left it there.
Overall, it did feel that Petit Pois managed to disprove that old rule of thumb that the fewer options on a menu – the more a place specialises – the better, but in hindsight perhaps the fact that there’s nothing I’d definitely re-order if I went back contradicts that sentiment. Really good, solid food all-round, bordering on the spectacular in moments without ever quite crossing over, and a nice wine list, too. I would go back though. I’m just glad Petit Pois is in Brighton, as I’m not sure I could handle the look of disdain I’d get ordering just the roast garlic mash and a block of soft goat’s cheese if I was actually in France.
