Bars & Pubs

By Michael Hodges

'And ye shall know them by their trails of peppered tuna, endive, radish and duck egg salad with mustard dressing and croûtons, by their trout pâté with toasted sourdough, by their ham hock terrine and by their open bavette steak sandwiches…' Like Moses leading the children of Israel out of Egypt, gastropub restaurateurs offer the hope of a new promised land to those London homeowners who find themselves living in a down-at-heel locale. Not only do they get access to a steady supply of grilled prawns marinated with chilli and lime, but suddenly what was an indistinct postal code becomes an up-and-coming area.

Seldom, then, has a gastropub been so devoutly wished for as the one that has just opened in Sydenham, a mainly middle-class suburb that finds itself beholden to a distinctly déclassé high street. Though if you like Iranian greengrocers - and who doesn't? - it is a perfectly nice déclassé high street, albeit one littered with lads in white trainers and the usual south London quota of shouters and screamers.

This is the ugly end of the high street (and remember, the pretty end isn't that good looking) and it must have taken guts for the owners of the Dartmouth Arms in Forest Hill to have invested thousands in retrieving this big 1920s building from its previous incarnation as a lager and live football pub.

Although not as ambitious as the Dartmouth, its menu offers all of the above-named dishes and more. If there are faults they are mainly due to the young, enthusiastic team. Some of the cooking is a little over the top. We started with stuffed sardines with a coriander, garlic and cumin salsa verde, but the chef had gone bonkers with the coriander. Our other starter of ham hock terrine with piccalilli was perfectly good for what it was: tangy piccalilli, parsley and capers in the terrine - but it was served straight out of the fridge, so was too cold for all the flavour to come through. Alongside, we hoped for warm wholemeal bread - and there is a very good bakery virtually next door - but rather than the rustic artisanal loaf of our dreams we were given, after asking twice, a slightly stale baguette.

On to the mains: when the waitress was unable to discuss the veal's provenance we decided against it. Especially as she said she would go and ask the chef and came back to say he wasn't around and no one else knew. So we went for chicken pot au feu, which was warm and filling, though missing the oomph some more energetic seasoning may have imparted.However, the kedgeree was a sensation: the rice just right, and the strong flavour of the fish sitting happily alongside a bottle of the very reasonably priced trebbiano/garganega house white.

The pudding list pressed the appropriate sweet-toothed buttons, in particular a zingy lemon sponge with summer berries; and there is a classy-looking cocktail list. Be sure to look at the back yard - transformed into a concentric plan of box privets, gravel, grass and playfully splashing water it is a mini version of the gardens at the Palace of Versailles in SE26, but with apple trees. Be warned, though: the apple trees are jam-packed with fruit, and they are starting to fall now. A couple engaged in some light canoodling narrowly missed being crowned by a pair of falling russets.

But even with the danger of plummeting apples this is easily the nicest eating and drinking place between here and Beckenham. And if local pubs keep closing at the present rate, it might soon be the only drinking place between here and Beckenham.

Time Out Issue 1934: September 12-18 2007