Carpenter's Arms

I'm not saying the Carpenter's Arms is a pub full of old people, but when I stopped in on a Thursday night, the absence of anyone under the age of 50 in a nearly full house - 30-ish covers - was conspicuous; rightly or wrongly, not what I expected in a newly spruced-up west London pub. Then I noticed that no one was here merely for a drink: it was dinnertime at every table. There was no standing around at the bar, no raised voices. Just the satisfied murmur of a roomful of mature, discerning diners. The Carpenter's Arms sounds like a pub. It looks like one too, a classic old corner pub sandwiched between some typically delightful west London terraces. But, at least on this occasion, it was doing a bloody good impression of a restaurant. The older demographic is, if anything, a glowing endorsement: here are the healthy, wealthy, retired classes of Chiswick - where there's no shortage of fine eating-houses already - condescending to eat down the local boozer. It may not be quite so genteel and civilised every night. And in any case that's probably not what was intended for the place: it seems to have been designed along the usual, easy-going gastropub lines. The decor is subtle, with white walls and wooden floors and furniture, but there's a carefully chosen mishmash of paintings, lights and art objects that put it squarely in the familiar, ever-so-slightly trendy gastropub bracket. There's a proper pub bar with draught beers and a beer garden. And the loos are really olde-pubby (as if they ran out of money and couldn't afford to redo them). Yet in practice, there was plenty of gastro, not enough pub. If it's failed in its ambitions and ended up becoming a restaurant, it's probably the fault of the magnificent cooking. Our menu was a perfect foil to the biting December cold, and we thawed out with a soup each. Mine was 'Tuscan chestnut soup', a hot purée of simple flavours: the comforting, earthy sweetness of hot chestnuts, a faint citrus note. My friend's mutton broth with parsnips and carrots was rich, meaty and unctuous. We shared a starter of squid with chorizo, and got an even better dish than expected, the chunks of sausage and seafood swimming in a piquant, shellfishy sauce with tomatoes and split queen olives. Other starters we missed out on included potted shrimps, chicken liver and foie gras parfait with pickled damsons and king prawns with garlic, chilli and toast. From a list of six mains my friend chose venison and wild boar 'hotch potch', a chunky stew with white beans, cabbage and a hint of chocolate in the sauce. Mine was the bolder combination of a slab of roast halibut on heart of radicchio, plus two slices of beef marrowbone, all in a gravy spiked with ginger. I'd query the formal perfection of the dish, as there's nothing to mix the bone marrow into, or spread it on (except the fish, but that's a bit fiddly), so I had to request more bread. Still, the flavours married beautifully. We didn't do dessert, but could have chosen from among apple and date crumble, coffee affogato and pumpkin bakewell with Valrhona chocolate and mascarpone. We drank a bottle of house red, which was reasonable but not great, and concluded that the food had merited something better from the list which goes up to £60 or so a bottle. An espresso was splendid, however. When the bill came I noted with approval that they don't charge for bread, and don't include service on the bill: two signs of a confident, grown-up restaurant. It's a confidence that's well deserved. Go there for a great dinner, accompanied by professional, smiling service. But the Carpenter's Arms could serve equally well as a pub - so go there too for a couple of pints and a natter, and just make sure you don't look at a menu.

http://www.timeout.com/london/bars/12477.html