The Bell and Bear - Emberton

Remember last year when three years was definitely, absolutely and without question not a long time to be married? Well, Mrs P and I just hit number four and good grief it has to be said that last year went past quicker than a Jeremy Clarkson right hook. Therefore, in celebration of Mrs P's super human ability to put up with me for another year, I booked a little surprise for her. Newly voted the restaurant making best use of local ingredients at the Milton Keynes Food Awards, The Bell and Bear pub is like a Mille feuille in a shoebox. A classy and endearing shoebox don't get me wrong, a shoebox that has withstood the test of time and originally contained your granddad's pair of Oxfords that have now been re-soled a few thousand times but only look more classic because of it. A shoebox that, until recently had been used for holding string, screws and a few other bits that your Grandad was convinced would be useful one day so he had better keep hold of them just in case. But then, you open the lid and what you are greeted with is not a lolly stick and a strange bit of tin foil, but a lovingly crafted (if a bit rough round the edges, which is understandable considering it's in a shoe box) slab of unadulterated, unapologetic joy in food form.

The menu, reads a bit like a list of 'things the chef likes to cook' which, at first, does make it seem a little disjointed.  

But it certainly didn't stop Mrs P and and I pouring over it like a pair of dribbling infants with a brief discussion involving the practicalities of ordering 'one of everything please', during which time we were presented with a pea veloute amuse bouche in a shot glass:

It's a rubbish photo but you get the idea, the chives on the top packed a fantastically strong punch and the oil (I think it was basil oil but I couldn't swear to it) sat well too. The peas were sweet and the texture was as smooth as you like. Perhaps needing a little more salt to give it a bit more oompf but that's not a criticism, simply a preference as Mrs P so delicately reminded me as she sipped hers down. You can also see here a few of the confetti hearts the team had liberally decorated our table with. Subtle it was not, but as a way of personally connecting with the diner, that little bit of effort went a long way; Mrs P absolutely loved it.

We then we really got started. First came the brisket and gyoza.

Mrs P won this round with her choice of dumpling, the crispy shells giving way to a beautifully sweet prawny, gingery centre with the sharp tang of the coriander dressing below - fabulous, I need to have this recipe in my life. Don't get me wrong, the brisket wasn't bad at all, the herby garlic bread was a joy to sink my teeth into and the pickled garlic and onions were great with the salad and parmesan cheese shavings. The brisket itself was good, soft and yielding but with a little too much of the mayo dressing. But once you put the salad and the beef on the bread though, you can see the whole thing off before you realise it. Or at least I did.

Our evening got even better though when the mains arrived - pork and beef, both looking great. And wouldn't you know it Mrs P got the better of me once again. I knew she loved a good steak and this was an absolute beauty, soft and a perfect testament to the quality of locally produced meat that The Bell sources from just down the road (along with a dab hand in the kitchen of course).  In all honesty, I was pretty lucky to get a forkful at all! The matchstick'd fries were thin and excellent but it was the gravy that brought everything together. This gravy was a perfect masterclass in liquid meat perfection, well done sir. If there was any negative, it was that Mrs P found the cheese sauce to be a bit too pungent but then, she's not into that sort of thing anyway.

My pork was great from start to finish, the shoulder, the loin, the potato and yes, the gravy. It was the greens that stole the show however, what the chef did to that chard I have no idea but it was phenomenal. The apple sauce was lovely, a bit tart and sweet at the same time and was scraped up eagerly.

Because it was a special occasion, or more to the point because Mrs P wouldn't let me get away with just ordering cheese, we had three puds. 

The cheese choice was wide and really tasty with strong punchy flavours, I was told that 'the cheese man' comes regularly and so new cheeses arrive weekly - and well he might because these should be so popular that they won't last long in the kitchen. The chocolate tart was pretty, a solid example of the genre and thus was put away in short order. The strawberries likewise with special mention reserved for the foam which again, went down a treat. Although I think it's fair to say that pastry is not the chef's favourite part of the kitchen, let me be clear that this is not a criticism. An enjoyable meal is more than technically perfect food at every turn; environment, ambience and atmosphere are hugely important in a diners experience. Boring lack lustre puddings should named and shamed in under performing venues that don't care what they put out to the customer, but at The Bell and Bear the sweetie course just feels like a work in progress, watch this space and you can bet they'll be on it like a tramp on chips. 

You know what? I get it. I totally get what The Bell and Bear are trying to do; start with the food and people will come, everything else can be improved one step at a time. The distillation of what a modern British pub should be is all here: Good food, good beer, good company and a game of skittles out the back. There is so much to love in the ingredients of this area that the kitchen clearly thinks that everyone else is mental for not cooking it. Why on earth would you settle for a microwaved burger or a oven warmed pre-frozen chicken wing when you can enjoy beef reared in a field from ten miles away, or vegetables freshly picked and delivered by a bloke named Fred that stops for a cheeky pint afterwards. And I agree. People want that, I want that. I want to know that these guys are cooking for the local school kids and in the process teaching them (and us) what good food is supposed to taste like. I want to have a pub that recognises that it's all about giving out that community spirit and wants to improve our understanding of what we should expect from our local boozer. I want a pub that stands up to be different among the horrendous gastro tosserati, I want The Bell and Bear, and you should too. 

Look and book:

www.bellandbear.net