The Anchor and Hope in Waterloo - Perfection revisited May 2013

I don't say it often, but dinner at the Hope and Anchor is practically perfect in every way. It's been a while since I'd been, and longer since I'd written about it, so thought that a re-review was due. I'm very pleased to say that its place in my personal grubby, food stained list of London's dirty, sexy and cool restaurants is still assured. If this review sounds smug in any way, that's because it is. I'm still purring like a contented cat a week later...

If you can't cope with the recycled pub schtick, the buzz and irritations of tightly packed, shared tables or are looking for a quiet romantic dinner (at least one that doesn't involve sucking meat juice from your fingers) then steer clear. If you're fond of being hypercritical, you'll be pleased to know it's also unsurprisingly difficult to get a table, even early week, so either get there really, really early or be prepared to wait in the over spilling and rowdy bar. Whinge about that, because you won't be whinging about much else.

Arriving late we were lucky enough to stroll straight in. Skipping the usual wait at the bar with it's attendant reasonably priced (if basic) cocktails and well kept pints, we opted for a lovely drop of spicy Douro from the shallow end of the wine list as we took to our rickety wooden chairs at the brushed wood shared farmhouse table at the front. For the Farmer, this was home away from countryside home, particularly when he'd settled long enough to peruse the single sheet menu with its gruff single word descriptors of fish, flesh and fowl.

Hunks of fresh tangy sourdough with a huge pot of butter were followed by fresh, fragrant and wonderful British asparagus, succulent green vestal virgins dipped in a fresh buttery mayonnaise and decapitated as quickly as we could get them down our greedy little necks.
  

Coming down to the mains eyes and bellies just couldn't resist the whole mustard braised rabbit for two to share. A quick check before committing for both of us - "How's the rabbit? Worth it?" The waiter's smiling eyes glazed over as under his breath he muttered "it's absolutely fucking beautiful guys". The staff are utterly delightful - when you ask opinions, you really get them. They smile as they reel off the staff dinner menu from last week, smile as they advise a cheaper wine than we were planning on and genuinely seem to love working there. And who wouldn't with this kitchen? I'm tempted to pay for a job here, just to guarantee tasting this food daily, though I'd struggle to get through the tightly packed tables after a week or so of it.

As well as raising a delightful herd of rare breed beef (and an equally delightful family) the Farmer has the most marvellous day job. He's a classically trained singer for hire (like a gun for hire but with marginally better better life prospects). It'd be a cliche, though not entirely untrue, if I said he was loudly singing in praise of the Anchor and Hope. That being said, there was definitely a contented hum from us both as we sucked the last bones dry. Soft, slow braised bunny in a creamy sauce sopped up with triple cooked chips. It's never been the healthy option, but when it tastes this good you just don't care.