The Eight Belles - Bletchley

Before I start this review I would like to make it very clear that there was a lot of things I liked at The Eight Belles. The atmosphere, the décor and even the menu (after I had decrypted it’s cunning and hidden design).

 The pub is, first and foremost a pub and I really liked that. It’s honest and certainly not pretentious in any way, with a 1940’s design it nods to Bletchley Park (which is only a few minutes walk away) with appreciation for it’s place in the town and it’s place in history. The staff were enthusiastic and our waitress worked hard to ensure we were happy which as it turned out, was a harder job than she had probably expected.

A Sunday menu of three starters, four mains and three puds all looked very appealing, I love a limited menu because it means the chef has the time and opportunity to put everything they've got into making each plate the best it can be. As expected, The Child shunned the childrens menu as she preferred the look of the squid starter while Mrs P and I had the roast lamb and beef respectively.

The squid was not crispy but it was cooked through and The Child made short work of it, only slowing down when it became ‘too spicy’, I paid no heed to this however as I know she can take down a shake of Tabasco when she wants to and put it down to the fact that she simply didn’t want any more lettuce. You’ll have to get up earlier than that my girl if you want to get one past me.

Our mains were slightly more problematic though as Mrs P’s Lamb was dry, chewy in parts and half her plate had been dedicated to a massive splodge of straight-from-the-jar vinegary mint sauce – Mrs P does not like mint sauce. Luckily, she had also been provided with a cutesy little jug of gravy which our waitress refilled for her very swiftly.

My beef had the somewhat opposite problem as it had been described as ‘very rare’ which it certainly was – no trade description act problems there, and so I had no issues with getting to grips with a very generous portion of what was essentially rare ribeye, it was a bit cold if I’m being critical but the gravy sorted that out and the veg was fine if a little one dimensional. However, most telling I'm afraid is that a roast lives or dies on the strength of it’s roast potatoes and unfortunately these were just too soggy to be anything other than adequate.

But it was the puddings that really let the Eight Belles down, well that and the 90's house music that was bizarrely powering through the PA system. Here was the first look at my chocolate torte and Mrs P's chocolate trench cake.

I feel bad for the kitchen here because I hope that these dishes were not what they would normally serve. If I'm wrong though... well, everyone has to earn a living somehow. The cake was so dry that it literally crumbled to dust every time a fork went near it and the only thing keeping it looking like a cake was the icing.  The torte on the other hand was so solid that it actually shattered as I tried to cut it, but quite apart from the super chilled top (and not in a fashionable 'Netflix 'n' chill' kind of a way*), the thickness of the base would have been issue enough on it's own, I mean look at the size of it!! We complained and were offered the alternative pudding but with two of the three options being problematic we didn't hold out a huge amount of hope and politely declined the offer.

So we paid up and left, beatboxing our way out and digging the phat and phunky beats all the while thinking about the positives; the decor, the atmosphere and the enthusiasm versus the negatives; ... well no need to go over it again.

So in conclusion, if you are looking for a honest, decent pub that can do you a generous portion of grub on the side, then The Eight Belles is a good bet, particularly with the unique ambience it's created. But I'm afraid it can't quite hold it's own against the growing number of other pubs that are dotted around when it comes to getting your hands on a good Sunday lunch.

@eightbellsmk
www.eightbellesbletchley.co.uk

*Yeah, I'm down with the kids.**

** Not really, I heard that on First Dates and still have no idea what it means. Mrs P tells me that I can't even say 'down with the kids' any more. God I feel old.