There are certain items for certain activities that are simply essential. Take towels and showers. You wouldn’t get in, lather up in that minty tingly stuff, have a rinse, and then just drip around the house, would you? Because that is clearly the act of a psychopath. Similarly (or maybe not so similarly, whatever) you wouldn’t cook yourself a saucy, juicy meal, and not have some bread to mop it up, would you? Quality Chop House understands this. Because these people are not psychopaths.
QCH is a place that knows the necessary essentials of how to eat well in a restaurant. A plate of homemade doorstop sliced bread is planted on your table pretty much as soon as you order here. It’s there to soak up the juices from your scallop and pork fat, and it’s there to mop up the pool of mushroom essence your pork belly lies in, and then it’s still there to clean your plate when there’s no more venison but still some truffle sauce. You’re given it because the people here want you to have it. They want you soak up every bit of every dish here - most of which are great - and aren’t interested in charging you for the pleasure.
Your trusty buttered sidekick isn’t the only example that shows QCH knows how to do things. Coming here is like entering that fictional family member’s home. You know, the one who’s very rich, lives in a country manor, and is into candles. Not in a Diptique way, but in a banquet hosted by Henry VIII way. The extensive wine list (plus a choice of around eight red and whites by the glass) only furthers this. It’s tasteful and welcoming. Plus there’s no danger of decapitation. And it feels the same in the day, with the bonus of a very affordable set lunch menu.
All of this only adds to the feeling that QCH is a restaurant run by people accustomed to leaning back and undoing the top button of their jeans. People who know that, essentially, when you go out to a restaurant, all you want is to be filled with good food and good booze.
An extremely sexy snack. Especially if, like us, you have a fetish for light, herby green condiments, and excellent meat.
This a hand-dived scalloped. That means that a human person has gone diving, and picked up this scallop, with their hands. All that effort may have been a bit of a waste of time, because this snack is just okay.
You have to deep dive through the truffle to make it to the pasta. It’s worth all the necessary fork exploration, though. If it’s on the menu, order it.
Bear with us here. This venison is like lying on your bed in your towel after a really hot bath. What we mean by this is that it will make you feel deliciously comfortable, and, possibly, ready to go to sleep.
Light, salty, and lovely. Kind of like happy tears. But for your stomach.
This fish dish is excellent. It’s heavy on the butter though, and should probably come with some kind of a health warning.
A great slab of meat. Emphasis on the ‘slab’.
This is a potato dish that should make all other potatoes feel bad about themselves. Now all other potatoes have to glance in the mirror with and say, ‘Why aren’t we confit? Were we not loved enough?’. This is some of the best potato we’ve ever had. Ever.
Once you get past ginger parkin sounding like a playground nickname from the 1980s, you can enjoy this pudding for what it is. A lovely, syrupy sponge with ice cream. School dinners 2.0.