RESTAURANT REVIEW: The Old Blind School

A BAD tooth makes for a bad man. I have been in pain. I have been a pain.

Before setting out for The Old Blind School, a cocktail of paracetamol and codeine served as hors d’oeuvres. But even with the throb turned down to low, my tolerance levels were flatlining.

Which meant that #TOBS – as the place likes to call itself – was going to have to be good. The menu sure speaks well of itself: a pie or other is “real tasty”, the lamb “stunning” – a word chefs use about their cooking only when they are very confident or very stupid.

The restaurant-cum-bar, spanning two floors, could have taken its name from any number of the historic Hardman Street site’s past occupants, including, for several years, an advice centre for jobseekers. But who would go to a restaurant called the Old Merseyside Trade Union, Community and Unemployed Resource Centre? Well, yes, all right, Jeremy Corbyn would.

The menu sure speaks well of itself: a pie or other is 'real tasty', the lamb 'stunning' – a word chefs use about their cooking only when they are very confident or very stupid

This is the first Liverpool venture for Cheshire-based gastro-pub specialists New Moon Company, which will be swiftly followed by their second, we are told, a Beef & Pudding, in the former Noble House on Brunswick Street.

To their credit, as elsewhere, they have treated the old place with respect, allowing the best features to speak for themselves, like the lofty Georgian-style windows that let the sunshine in.

The decor is early 21st century industry standard – clusters of bulbs, naked and low-hanging; chairs that in other circumstances would never have had the opportunity to meet; walls and ceilings in nifty shades of grey; too many Bruce McCall pictures of dogs’ heads protruding from the uniforms of rear admirals (why is this amusing, exactly?).

But, generally, they use such devices well, no better than in the mass of lights, all at different heights, descending the main stairwell like a thousand watt meteor shower.

If you are seated in the room to the left of the first floor bar, you can watch the kitchen at work. They exude calm and confidence. And not without reason.

A generous dish of rare breed baby back ribs (£6.50) were basted with black treacle and chilli which was rather more tame than it sounded. The ribs, slow-roasted, were yielding, fleshy and satisfying but I just wondered if the fattier spare rib from the same beast may have produced a more flavourful result.

The “school house” burger (£10.95), on brioche, with a tomato and roast garlic relish on the side, was moist, hearty, beefy, if fractionally overcooked for our fellow diner’s taste. This one had added crispy bacon and cheese (£1 each) to go with the garnish of gherkin, lettuce and (swiftly discarded) sizeable slice of beef tomato. Slender, wrinkly chips were just the job.

 

Onion tart with old spot ham

And so to the lamb, or “stunning rump of Lune Valley lamb” (£18.95) to quote the menu: three boulders, which, as you cut into them, were pink and gently oozing (they ask if you want it that way - don’t dare say no) and tender and bursting with flavour.  Exceptional meat, exquisitely delivered, it was, indeed, stunning. And with it, good gravy flecked with mint, and soft, savoury roast potato champ, the champ of champs.

“Vimmy" duck (£16.95) comprised slabs of breast meat, not quite pink enough, with Vimto gravy and black pudding hash cake, the latter a triumph of sweet and spice notes and a delicacy utterly belying its earthy, bloody components.

Vimmy duck

The duck is Gressingham, which, like Goosnargh chicken has acquired a cache I just don’t get. As it is, it was fine and besides this plateful was all about the team. Tasted in isolation, the gravy seemed too sweet; combined with the duck and the black pudding it hit back of the net.

A side dish of seasonal veg (£2.95) perhaps told us more than anything about a desire to bring quality to the table. Cauliflower, kale, green beans and carrots were both precisely cooked and tasted as though they had been grown for their flavour rather than their ability to propagate in large numbers. 

The winning dinner: Stunning rump of lamb and the champ of champs

Desserts are all £5.95 and my jam jar lemon cheesecake with “Eton Mess dressing” was actually very good. My head, however, was turned by a tart - of the Bakewell variety - which proved a thing of wonder: warm frangipane and toasted almond sponge with raspberry jam and Chantilly cream and, alongside, a tumbling compote of sharp summer berries.  Tip: add the suggested scoop of Ribble Valley ice-cream, (£1); the warm, soft, subtly sweet sponge against the rich chill of the ice is a memory we took all the way home.

The winning pud: Tart with a heart

Then we wanted to go to sleep, but not before the waiting staff did. Which is a shame because for eleven-twelfths of our time there, the service, from young James and his handlebar moustache, had been everything you would want – knowledgeable, friendly (but not too so), attentive (but not too so), and good-humoured. Too so. I don’t like people who are funnier than me.

But then James went on his break and the service went AWOL. Did this mar a memorable meal? Not a chance.

In less dentally challenged times, I may not have mentioned it at all. And if the truth hurts, I’m sorry, but the tooth hurts.