Review of Wilson's Restaurant, Chandos Road, Redland, Bristol

There are special occasions such as birthdays, when a Biblos, Nandos or Spoons just won’t cut it. And so I found Wilson’s restaurant on Chandos Road after a search on Google (other search engines are available). I read a Jay Rayner review of Wilson’s for the Guardian newspaper and was on the phone to reserve a table quicker than it will take for the Guardian to give me Mr Rayner’s job (ahem).

Wilson's menu on the day of our visit in Mid October

Wilson’s sits across the road from the Michellin-starred Wilks. Shortly after being seated, I saw a couple confuse the two. The pair were disappointed when their booking couldn’t be found. The (lovely) waitress suggested they may have reserved over the road. They had. We bumped into them on the walk home and asked how their evening at Wilks had been – too pretentious and too French apparently. But all was not lost, following our accolades the duo promised they’d book a table at Wilson’s on their walk home.

Wilson’s is small and simple, the menu is presented across two blackboards on each side of the plain white walls, one displaying the food and one the wine. The focal point is a big stained glass ‘Wilson’s’ sign hanging in the window. The simplicity applies throughout, with a menu only offering three options for each course.

Our waitress was a great host and super helpful, explaining all of the various fancy French words on the menu, for example: chou farci = stuffed cabbage. When faced with the crucial wine making decision, she steered us towards the Portuguese Lapa Dos Gaivões. Now to digress, whilst visiting Copenhagen this summer I tasted a terrific French wine which I foolishly drank so much of it led me to forget its name. I have (for scientific research purposes), purchased almost every French red wine from the top shelf in Sainsbury’s to find that this Portuguese red was exactly what I had been searching for the whole time. I have a picture of the label and I’ll now be trotting into Corks of Cotham to ask for something similar.

Back to Wilson’s now – and bread. Who doesn’t love bread? The carb free fun police sure don’t, but I sure do and this sour dough seeded bread had a thick chewy crust and soft interior, perfect slathered with salted butter.

Whilst waiting for our starters, I was surprised, some could say amused (but that would be a cheap joke and I can sense you, dear reader, rolling your eyes), by the waitress who brought out two amuse bouche. First, delicate choux buns, crisp and light, filled with earthy truffle cream and second, squid ink crackers, so delightfully delicate and thin, with little dollops of roe cream and dill. The fishiness in the cream was as concentrated as a thimble of double concentrate fish flavoured Ribena – how is that even possible? It demonstrated such skill.

Top: Truffle choux buns. Bottom: Squid ink crackers 

Now, I’m either showing my affliction for junk food, or the starters had such powerful flavours, as they transported me to another food entirely. The pumpkin and mushroom tart pastry had me thinking of a sausage roll on the first bite and pepperoni pizza on the next. The red mullet and orange soup served alongside crispy fish skin which was topped with crab packed a citrus punch, whilst delivering savoury and creamy notes and delivering such contrasting textures, whilst the crispy fish skin tasted just like chicken skin. Junk food again! I’m unsure if this was the chef’s intention or if I’m just far too common for Wilson’s and should just head back to Gregg’s…

But then perhaps I fit in just fine. The chef himself brought out the final amuse bouche, a partridge broth with mint oil and ginger. The chef seemed to recognise us, even though we’d never met him before. So we had a good laugh about that and then enjoyed the broth which was the rich and smooth and like the thinnest but tastiest gravy you’ve ever had with a small kick of freshness from the ginger and mint.

I had the main of mallard, with beetroot puree, plum, chicory and a weird sausage shaped piece of meat which I can only assume was more duck. The various shades of pink, from the purple-pink of the beetroot, to the crimson tones of the plum and the muted dusty notes of the duck were beautiful. However the dish was surprisingly overshadowed by my companion’s ’50 shades of beige’ main which was cod served with snails, leeks, artichoke cream and fish skin. On their own the component parts of the cod dish were all rather plain – but savoured together, it was a triumph. Also, the snails were from the English Welsh border which I, for some reason, find quite funny. Which sports team do you think they support(ed)?

When faced with our choice for afters, we unashamedly ordered one of everything (this is the Greedy in Bristol blog after all). My self control may or may not have been affected by the bottle of Portuguese red, which had almost been fully devoured at this point.

Cheese, glorious cheese

We started with the cheese, an Alcester Gold served with oatcake, truffle and honey, as a combination it gave a garlicky twang which was interesting and unexpected. The cheese was gooey and sticky, just like the honey. The oatcakes were on a different level to those I used to nab from my old flatmate’s cupboard in moments of hangry desperation. They were thin, crisp and dare I say it, tasting like oats, as opposed to cardboard. 

The chocolate and chestnut mousse slice with the clove ice cream was almost a little too much – I think that the flavours were meant to work together but I just couldn’t take it. But oh… that rice pudding with pear and thyme. Thick grains of chewy rice in a thin, sweet and herbaceous milky liquid… it took away all bad memories of school dinners and for a sweet, sweet moment, all bad memories of school entirely.  

All in all considering the calibre of the food, the service, the company and the wine, I think that £111 pounds in total for two starters, three amaze bouche (which we didn’t order!), two mains and then cheese, two desserts and a fancy bottle of wine was well worth it. That excludes service, but of course I paid that, because the waitress was so charming and lovely. I’m not a monster… only when I’m hungry.

 

The sexiest rice pudding in the Universe

Wilson's Restaurant - 24 Chandos Road, Bristol, BS6 6PF 0117 973 4157

http://wilsonsrestaurant.co.uk/