Review of Bell's Diner and Bar Rooms, Montpelier, Bristol

Let’s talk about Bell’s Diner and Bar Rooms, which has stood in the same spot on York Road from 1976. It has changed hands since, but has retained a great reputation for all of its years. The décor is just so great. The decoration is very French gran’s house, which is a welcome change from the instagram plague which is spreading scandi-vibes and succulent plants to many modern eateries. Wooden floors, simple tables, weird metal kitchen machinery*, large ferns, velvet curtains, tartan fabric window blinds and the dressing room style lights in the window all give the place such a great mood. I’m not usually one for typewriters in restaurants (nor anywhere that isn't an antique shop for that matter) but at Bell’s the old thing blends effortlessly into the surrounds and just feels right. The restaurant’s character is exemplified by its neighbourhood location on a rather small and higgledy-piggledy residential corner in Montpelier.

We sat down and were handed the drinks menu, encased in an old David Essex record sleeve. They had a wide-ranging and innovative variety of wines and sherries with a significant number from smaller producers. We ordered the South African Shakalaka red wine. It was spicy and bold at first but it's personality was lost in the finish. I am still on a hunt to find my favourite wine, this wasn't it - but it was still tasty and very drinkable. The menu was mainly Mediterranean small plates with a couple of larger dishes available from the grill. The honest waiter told us in the nicest way possible that we had ordered too much food and should cut back on a couple of the dishes. At the time I called him a genius, but after leaving Bell's I spent some time down the pub and ended up getting Miss Millie’s chicken and chips on the way home. So I should have stuck to my greedy guns.

Boquerones and haggis croqueta

The show kicked off well with boquerones – white anchovies marinated in vinegar and olive oil with tiny shards of sea salt. They were punchy and salty and reminded me of a Hamburg fischbrötchen (rollmop herring and raw onion in a bread roll).

The bread for the table was sourdough. It was squidgy and moist, bouncy and delicious, and soaked up the fishy marinade of which I wished there was more. The crust was golden, thick and chewy with a bold flavour you just can’t get from crappy mass-produced bread (although I do realise that is some peoples’ only option, I don't think this review is the time for me to start ranting about inequality). I love bread.

I was too inpatient and burnt my mouth on the hot and silky smooth lava inside the haggis croqueta. Their case was crisp and light, and the haggis flavour subtle.

The leek fritters with burnt pepper salsa were weird – they could have been great, if it wasn’t for the overpowering acidity in the salsa. Eaten on their own, the fritters were delicate and almost doughy. They were cheesy, and sweet from the braised leek. But the salsa was just too vinegar-heavy. It’s a no from me.

Baked celeriac in a seriously sexy syrup

But then the salt baked celeriac with hazelnuts rocked up and changed my world. The slices looked like halloumi in shape and size, the colour was off-white rented accommodation paint, and they had these cute little char grilled marks. They were beautiful, topped with hazelnuts and this crazy syrup I didn’t really get to taste until I reached the final slice which had lain soaking in the marvellous sweet honey juice. Who knew boring old celeriac could have that beige earthiness revved up to become flirtatious and sexy – a contender for the night’s best dish.

The grilled octopus with purple sprouting broccoli and charmoula was as great as to be expected. Why is it that alone, octopus just has this meaty texture and subtle flavour, but when paired with certain foods acquires this addictive smokiness? Science!? The charring of the broccoli florets gave a nice mouth feel and an ashy element which was surprisingly welcome and agreeable.

The chicken livers in Pedro Ximinez sherry with straw potatoes is the other contender for the top dish. The livers tasted like a cross between an egg yolk and a 50 pence piece, in the best way. The gravy was rich and sweet from the roasted onions and the pedro, and the straw potatoes just bought it all together, as little salty savoury snippets of texture to turn the whole thing into one big orchestral masterpiece.

Onto dessert. The marshmallow ice cream was this bizarre weird brown-grey which looked the most unappetising of colours. The ice cream itself was chewy, a strange sensation but the marshmallow flavour shone through and was fabulous – it represented my old school friend flump in a delightful way. It was just a joy. 

Watch out for that radioactive orange sauce! 
Polenta cake and marshmallow ice cream

The orange, almond and polenta cake with crème fraiche was lovely. The cake was buttery and thick (to the point of almost being quite filling), and there was a slight crunch from the polenta. The crème fraiche with orange zest in it worked wonders with the cake, it’s a shame there wasn’t more of it. Instead there was this disgustingly bitter orange sauce which I just had to ignore – it tasted like chewing an orange seed and my palate just couldn’t handle it. Bells – please replace this abhorrent sauce with more crème fraiche!

With the cheeses, we ordered a sherry each. I had the recommended Palo Cortaldo – it somehow reminded me of drinking 7up shandies at my Granddad’s house as a young pipsqueak. I don’t know why. It was nice, but I could taste the alcohol, and I think I was longing for a Pedro Ximenez and its raisin notes. My other half had the Cesar Moscatel which had a beautiful sweet honey flavour and colour. We had both cheeses, the Beauvale Blue – a soft blue cow’s milk cheese made in Nottinghamshire, and the Morbier, a semi-soft cow’s milk cheese from France. These were served with the ubiquitous quince jam and these interesting and funny little homemade cracker puffs, like clouds picked from the sky, in all different shapes and sizes. The blue was creamy, smooth and pungent, intense like a great chocolate hit and the Morbier was nutty, dry and crumbly.

Beauvale Blue and Morbier cheeses

The soundtrack of the evening was mainly Motown via the Supremes played on vinyl which added to the overall homely atmosphere. I think Bell’s is a great neighbourhood restaurant that epitomises everything that’s great about Bristol's food culture – an independent hang out with interesting casual food (even if not always perfect) and exciting drink. It’s a shame that the place wasn’t busier on a Wednesday evening but I guess drinking on a school night is losing its popularity. 

The overall experience, including the service, was great. I may have found a couple of the dishes lacking but the other dishes were all so perfectly executed it made the minor errors permissible. Bell’s is definitely my new favourite hang out for the whole package it offers. 

The total came to £103 for two people which included a £32 bottle of wine, two sherries and all the dishes I’ve lamented over above. It was my birthday treat so we splashed out a bit last night, but you could easily fill yourself up on food and drink here for £30 per person, making it rather quite reasonable.

9/10

Fenn

Bell's Diner and Bar Rooms are located at 1-3 York Road, Montpelier, Bristol BS6 5QB. Their website is www.bellsdiner.com and their phone number is 0117 924 0357.

PS: My new favourite pub is the Hare on the Hill. Although the hill you must climb to reach it is such a joke. My friend got a cab there from the Galli.

PPS: Please follow me on Instagram and Twitter, the handle is the same for both: @greedyinbristol. I am also on facebook but I think the only person who goes on facebook these days is my nan and people who post motivational quotes or borderline racist waffle. But nonetheless, the facebook page is Greedy in Bristol.

* you can view the Bell’s Diner and Bar Rooms gallery here, and help me identify the weird metal kitchen machinery… a sausage machine perhaps? I’ve no idea.