I love you, Anchor and Hope

It seems as though the way of attracting attention to you new venture is to make it a pop-up. Do it for 2 days, 2 weeks, 2 months and leave the audience wanting more. Ephemerality rules. Blogs and restaurant reviews tend to focus on the new and cutting edge. Got there first, done that, when's the next opening.

I sometimes wonder whether it would be nice for someone in their newspaper column to spend a year revisiting the stayers, the survivors that have been here for yonks and whose reputation has passed down through word of mouth: off the top of my head Blueprint Cafe (although now lacking its guiding light), St. John and here - the Anchor and Hope.

Anyhow, about since 6 months since my last visit I was back there for the Sunday lunch. £30, no choice, the pub opened out and all tables full. And you can book. I thought my last meal at Manchurian Legends could be up there with the best this year - so could this one. 2012. Two meals, two big hits.

Arriving early we got a great table in the corner and as there were five of us, everything came served on an enormous plate for us to dig into. We kicked off with a few nibbles on bread - oxtail and tongue and beetroot and horseradish that set the palate up. First up was a large plate of watercress, tangy stichelton blue chees, pecans and pear. I am in my infancy of blue cheese love, but this all works. I've seen it on the menu before - and can see why it's still there, everything playing off each other.

The main should really have come with a fanfare. A huge, triumphant plate of porchetta sat atop fennel and roasted potatoes with a magnificent gravy swimming beneath it all. The stuffing of the porchetta was deeply, deeply savoury and the only thing I could have criticised was the cracking that failed on one quarter of my slab of pork. The pork itself retained plenty of moisture. The unanimous decision was one of "Good Lord". Take a look at it in all its grainy iPhone photo glory:



Dessert doesn't usually interest me but it was good to see tarte tatin coming out - caramelised to within an inch of its life with a deep brown colour, sweetness with the slight sour hit of the mascarpone that came with it.



We were all full. And happy. Maybe it's best that the Anchor and Hope doesn't get re-reviewed for those unaware of it because quite frankly a) it doesn't need to be as it's always full and, selfishly, b) I want to be able to get a table. A glorious 9.