Like Yossarian in Joseph Heller’s “Catch-22”, it was love at first sight for your reviewer when he stepped into the Parakeet. Full marks for décor, vibe, service, food, drinks and pricing. This was the broad consensus view among our party of four but – and you knew there was going to be a catch – the Parakeet failed in one crucial respect: if you’re vegetarian, then you’re very poorly catered for. This should be fixed to make the venue truly excellent.
The conception behind the Parakeet is very similar to that of current hotspot, Soho’s the Devonshire. Take a formerly grotty pub and then lovingly restore it. Next, add in a culinary team with first-class credentials (in this case, ex-Brat). Eat restaurant-quality food in a convivial setting without paying the earth. Surely this must be a winning formula.
Walk into the pub and beyond the first half of the venue (conventional boozer), the back room is an aesthetic masterpiece. Plaudits to the design team to fit an open kitchen and at least a dozen tables into a small space without it feeling crowded. Who doesn’t love a round table – much more egalitarian than those stupid rectangular ones – especially when there’s superb theatre to be watched all around. The mock stained-glass windows are a beauty to behold and the shabby chic décor feels appropriate without going over the top.
Our server made us feel immediately welcome, pouring us tap water as soon as we sat down. While this is the norm in the US, it is surprisingly rare in Britain. Most venues seize the opportunity to try and up-sell the bottled equivalent, but not the Parakeet. Although the restaurant was packed when we visited, throughout our meal, nothing seemed too much trouble for our server. He was delighted to chat and converse for as long as wanted, and we were even brought some gratis wine to taste on the house. A perfect balance of friendly charm without excessive intrusion sounds great on paper but is surprisingly hard to achieve in practice.
Talking of paper, however, this is where the problems arose, or at least for one of our party. Omnivores can delight at the Parakeet. Take the “nibbles” section on the menu. Three of our group snacked on a trio of crab and artichoke croquettes followed by another of duck leg tartlets. If the former were good, then the latter were great. Meanwhile, our vegetarian comrade looked on glumly as she snacked on (albeit well-made) potato bread and smoked butter. A sense of occasion for three-quarters of our party, but anticlimax for the remaining member. Surely it would not be beyond the skill of the kitchen to take the crab out of the croquette and come up with a slightly fancier snack? A similar story played out with the mains. While the majority of our gang tucked into a wonderfully tender piece of monkfish in a freshly piquant sauce vierge followed by a playful platter of pork jowl, my comrade had to make do with a tart that somehow managed to be both curious (celeriac and nettle) and joyless. Want to pair this with a side? Well, add insult to injury if you’re vego: the cucumber, courgette and chilli option is not suitable since it’s cooked in a fish sauce. Obviously.
The good news is that were the Parakeet to pick up on feedback such as this then it ought to be able to remedy the problem both quickly and effectively. Here’s hoping. The lack of satisfying food for one of our party was at least compensated for by the wine we consumed. The Parakeet has to have one of the most impressively curated (and competitively priced) wine lists that your reviewer has seen for a long time. We enjoyed both a Grand Cru Alsace Riesling and a new-wave Spanish Garnacha that did not carry eye-wateringly egregious mark-ups. If you want to really push the boat out, then you could drink Kistler with, say, your seabream or Chateau Cantermale alongside sirloin. Next time: more wine, and even better food.