‘A Michelin listing must surely follow’: Barnacle, Liverpool, reviewed

The Victorian architect Arthur Hill Holme, who designed Liverpool’s Blind School in 1849, now home to Barnacle restaurant, clearly didn’t like blind people. Or at least thought most of them were taking the piss.

I had a problem earlier this year brought on by diabetes and a bug that decided to eat my liver. The bug eventually lost. But the battle left me with very poor vision for a while. So it was interesting for me to review Barnacle; getting into character; I could pretent to be Al Pacino in Scent of a Woman.

The architect ensured there would be a test to establish just how blind people were on arrival, producing five difficult steps to negotiate before reaching the front door, without a handrail or anything whatsoever to grip on. I passed the architect’s test by tripping on the second step and head-butting the solid oak front door.

On that day, I was actually there to try out the Sunday lunch menu and, having got over the embarrassment of being picked up off the floor after my dramatic entrance, I found myself staring at slices of rare roast beef, draped over magic roast potatoes, mashed potatoes, greens and very horny carrots, with a big pot of gravy and a rather large, hunky Yorkshire pudding which was begging as much for the gravy boat as those carrots wanted to shag it. 

The Yorkshire pudding that is, but in the event I got there first. 

The review I am writing today is my official scored review, but I felt I had to mention the roast beef because it was banging nine out of ten.

Barnacle is a brand that’s been about for a small number of years, starting life in the In the Duke Street Market and finally ending up in its forever home at the Blind School on Hope Street. It’s a glorious interior, which on this last visit I could see properly, with a good bar on the left and the handsome restaurant on the right.

The menu is not fine dining, but the restaurant would not be out of place on the Strand in London, where gentlemen and ladies can go in and have a full riot of a lunch, eat proper à la carte food, or a local barrister can nip in for an hour and have a bloody great big steak.

This is the kind of restaurant I fear has been disappearing from our great northern cities but needs to come back. And it appears that Barnacle is starting to lead the charge here in Liverpool.

Barnacle is from the same family who own the extraordinarily good Art School, in a building further up the street, of which you can find one of my reviews here. Dad is Paul ‘Porky’ Askew. He and his son Harry are the architects of this second restaurant, which is something of a tribute to the grandfather, Barnacle Bill Askew, after whom the restaurant is named.

These two know cooking and hospitality, they’ve both been at it man and boy, as well as becoming great champions for the hospitality industry in the fight against ridiculous levels of VAT and other taxes inflicted upon us be Rachel from Accounts. 

Keep at it Paul.

But let’s get on with the food. The Art School is a Michelin-listed restaurant. Is Barnacle worthy as well? If the bread is anything to go by, it certainly is. I shouldn’t be eating too much white bread as a type two diabetic, but couldn’t help polishing this stuff off. Over a number of meals, both at The Art School and Barnacle, I have noticed that there is a pastry chef looking after both restaurants who is at the top of their game.

On this visit, a smothering hot, muggy day in August, Tomato festa (£12) was winking at me; Heritage tomatoes, whipped feta, basil oil, toasted pine nuts and balsamic vinegar was a chunky, robust yet feminine gazpacho stew. Does that sound pretty and delicate and of Monet’s garden at Giverny? If it doesn’t, it did. If you know what I mean. Gorgeous.

Harry Askew had said to me that I would need the bread, and he was right. It was perfect for mopping up after the tomatoes had gone.

Cape-Malay duck breast (£27) with duck croquette, almond cream, roasted apricot, apricot and sambal gel with curried burnt orange jus.

This was an interesting dish. The main component, the breast, timed perfectly, was served split in half and rosy pink having been rubbed with the South Asian spices used by the Muslim communities near Cape Town, centred on the Bo-Kaap, calling on the old spice trade during Dutch colonialism: not particularly in heat, but in sweetness and comforting citrus flavours, complemented beautifully by a whole roasted apricot, which was an absolutely marvellous touch.

As fantastic as that breast was, it didn’t overshadow the marvellous touch of a croquette made from the leg of the duck, which could so easily have been dry and uninteresting. It wasn’t. The meat was again seasoned with aplomb, a moistness that would have been as good as any hardcore French farmhouse rillette, the duck fat added in with precision. The crunch of the croquette coating lifted the experience even further.

This is a Michelin Star dish.

Another nod, I think, to Barnacle Bill, who by all accounts had Cape Town on his list of ports during his travels across the world.

The flavours pulled up lost memories from a small restaurant whose name I can’t remember, from when I lived in a mews in Knightsbridge in London. It was run by two wonderful hardcore lesbian expat Afrikaners who teased me mercilessly with strange promises that never materialised drinking me under the table every time I was there, forty-five years ago.

When it comes to puddings, take my advice: there is always a Tart of the Moment available and I’ve had three. They’re all marvellous. They’re blind-baked flans with brilliant pastry which is near crunchy, sweet, with a mixed berry filling, topped with lime Chantilly cream and a scoop of intensely sexy strawberry sorbet.

All in all, Barnacle is a restaurant of note for Liverpool, if not the North West of England. If you live in the Liverpool region, you’re lucky. If you don’t, and you’re travelling in, put it at the top of your list of restaurants to visit if you want to leave somewhere with a smile that’s going to stay on your lips for a good few weeks.

I’m predicting a Michelin entry.

Another Gordo Go Here.

Barnacle, 24 Hardman St, Liverpool L1 9AX

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