Restaurant Review: The Blue Mallard, Burscough

Name: Confidentials
Address: 18 - 22 Lloyd Street, Manchester, Greater Manchester, M2 5WA, GB
Telephone: 0161 832 2880

Confidentials 20 May 2016

THE closer to the heart of Burscough, the greater the indicators of affleunce.

From the Liverpool side, the border post is marked by that monolith of abundance, a giant size branch of Booths (grocers to the posh since 1847). Not just any old hypermarket but a “complete shopping experience”.

I’m not suggesting the whole population of the town on the canal has escaped the tyranny of Tory rule, but you can’t tell me there isn’t money in these parts.

Other pointers to prosperity abound, like the low partly-submerged-shopping-trolley count on this stretch of the Leeds-Liverpool, and the prominent branch of a wealth management firm, just a short stumble across the designer cobbles from our destination.

The Blue Mallard forms part of Burscough Wharf, an impressive redevelopment of 19th century canalside buildings; its entrance forming part of a courtyard where, in summer, all manner of events distract the townspeople.

Businesses to make their home on the wharf include The Sinners Club, offering pulled pork and dirty dogs (I keep telling Mrs Grill we should move to the country) and traditional artisanal outlets like the Blyth Spirit wool and fabrics emporium and an electronic vaping shop.

Stairs and a lift take you to the first floor restaurant where A-frame timber beams, handsome wood windows and old black and white prints give a sense of the building’s history as a veterinary centre for the horses that pulled barges along the Victorian waterway.

Decor, in the main, is tasteful and innocuous other than a couple of aberrations – like scatter cushions with slogans such as “life love laughter” which induce a sudden urge to inflict violence (or is this just me?).

Ducting or Timecards adversary waiting to pounce?

Extractor fan or Time Lords adversary waiting to pounce?

Then there’s the assemblage of industrial-style ducting on the ceiling, shaped surreally like a cross between Metal Mickey and one of the Time Lords’ more sinister adversaries. Mrs Grill said it put her in mind of a character from a sci-fi blue movie, but she has changed her medication recently.

From eight paces a notice on our table appeared to announce Git of the Week until closer inspection revealed it was G&T of the week, another indication of Burscough posh. On a sunny day you can sit out on the terrace and watch the barges go by; a similar view is offered by the gents toilet, where, if you are stuck, concentrating on the gently swelling waters ought to do the trick.

Ham hock and piccalilli

Food at The Blue Mallard has proved such a hit, earning a coveted entry in the Michelin Guide, that a second branch is now planned a little deeper into Lancashire territory.

At lunchtime, three courses for £16 is excellent value although it’s only ever a bargain if the food is any good. Which it is, even if some of it proves as rich as a Cotswold constituency.

Your experience of the service could be entirely different to ours; you can only ever speak as you find. On this day, a quiet one, our waitress proved informed and efficient.

Roasted cod

A piece of haddock, gently smoked, carefully poached, was a beautiful thing and came with a perfect poached egg, roasted black pudding, soft buttery kale and grain mustard cream.

Two hunks of ham hock, braised in honey and mustard, were generous and meaty, but fragments of crackling made us grimace and gave the impression of having been around for too long. Better was a sharpening of the ham’s slight sweetness by a nicely deconstructed piccalilli of Lilliputian vegetables.

Unfortunately this sort of cutting edge was lacking in the mains and so while roast cod loin, skin well-seasoned and seared, the flesh soft, moist and just opaque, and a herby potato cake were excellent, they were in need of a foil. That ought to have come from the prescribed sauce of cream, parsley and lemon except the latter failed to show.

On the same plate, superior broccoli, cauliflower and chantilly carrots, from a farm a couple of miles up the road, were cooked al dente. These things are a matter of preference but a couple more minutes in the pan would have done no harm.

Duck sausages, mash and parsnip chips

Three fat duck sausages (£9 from the bar and terrace menu), a lovely idea and made to their own recipe, had a silken texture but, again, after a while were on the cloying side. They were served with exemplary mash and a stocky, concentrated, positively drinkable real ale gravy. Parsnip crisps brought more sweetness again, and, without something to relieve the richness, it all proved a little overwhelming.

More al dente veg, including kale and green beans, added to the value and the vitamin content. A side of chips, dry, crisp and floury, were about perfect.

Treacle tart with grapefruit sorbet

Desserts were less successful; the chocolate brownie, accompanying “winterberrry” Eton mess, proved undercooked while treacle tart, gooey and soothing, came with an impressive pink grapefruit sorbet. But if the two were intended to complement each other, they were not getting on at all – less Bacharach and David, more Blair and Brown.

We know nothing of the man in charge of the kitchen but “local lad Chris” is considered quite the celebrity chef in these parts. He might bear in mind that his food does not have to be quite so rich in order to be famous.

All scored Confidential reviews are paid for by the company, never the restaurant or a PR outfit. Critics dine unannounced and their opinions are completely independent of any commercial relationships.