Benjamin163
Google
Listen, if you can bear sitting next to dog-laden young women who have sacked off their original face for something different, gossiping, then arguing, then crying, then breaking up the friendship, then becoming best friends again then the Pig's Ear might be for you. Personally, I don't just bear it, I inject that stuff straight into my aorta. It's Made In Chelsea but it's real - I think anyway - and we're extras.
I don't know if Sloane Rangers exist anymore or if they have been usurped by these Lulu Lemon athleisure wearing dog toters but this pub is their domain. It's where they can feel comfortable enough to go through a gamut of emotions and two bottles of Soave before starters have been dusted off.
The pub itself is peak Chelsea. Traditional, smart, Victorian, just off the beaten track. It's a local for people who own small terraced houses that are worth more than the GDP of some European countries. Wooden floorboards, gilded mirrors, high ceilings, chandeliers. Uxbridge Rd is 20 mins and a world away.
The Pig's Ear was taken over by the Gladwin Bros this year. To my mind that means quality meat from their own farm and a bit of cooky and quirky on the menu. It's a good promise if you go to one of their six restaurants. Richard the restauranteur, Gregory the farmer, Oliver the chef. The group is called 'Local and Wild'. You get the picture. The Shed in Notting Hill nails it. Does The Pig's Ear deliver?
Not ones to disappoint, first on the menu the brothers Gladwin give us mushroom marmite eclair, confit egg, cornichon. It's fun. They are fun. It's as fun as Chelsea will get I think. I go with the Devilled quails eggs though. They aren't devilled enough and the mousse is a bit dry and flimsy. Slather my eggs in a good home made mayo and I'll eat them on death row. These were just a bit too prim and proper.
Salt beef croquettes sound like a winner too but ours lack oomph, possibly in the form of a cheesy glue inside.
Newsflash. Annabelle's mates have never really 'got' her. Never really understood the pain and torment she goes through. Jen is an attention seeker. Always has been apparently. There's anger and anguish there. And it's not because the croquettes didn't quite deliver. I'm tuned right in but our mains are the ad break we just don't need at this crucial point. They'd better be good, and they are.
Scallops are bathed in a fishy aioli with lots of ginger and lemon. Four plump ones topped with 'salty fingers' which are some sort of beach foraged greenery. My steak is the star of the show. Nicely burnished flesh, well rendered fat, a good spoon of the natural juices. What's not to like? OK it's not kooky but when they do the standard stuff so well, I'm not moaning. Skinny chips complete the deal nicely.
Next door, anger has turned to loud declarations of love. Hugs over the table. More tears. Dog in a handbag looking confused. We stay for pudding. There's a stabbing and an admission of an affair with one of the husbands on the cards here.
Cherry crumble cheesecake works to prolong the entertainment. Alas, there are no fireworks in the denouement. They're too pissed. No fireworks in the food either. Playful ideas that need bedding in. But the meat and fish do the job nicely and in smart comfy surroundings. Service is confident and laid back. If you want to bed down for the evening you could do a lot worse than tuning in to The Pig's Ear 7.30 Monday where Annabelle will be on her 4th glass and dropping the bombshell that her dog in a handbag has left her for a Fendi Baguette. Doof doof doof doof...doof doof