RESTAURANT A classic Bristol banger

THE CLIFTON SAUSAGE Making Great British food, one sausage at a time…

Words by Meg Coast Photos by Ben Robins

“It’s a great thing when the service at a restaurant is your idea of perfect, and for us that’s how it was at The Clifton Sausage”

The negative international perception of British food is hard to shake off, and I’ve noticed (to my annoyance) that friends visiting from overseas seem to take gleeful delight in dissing the fare over here. Those same friends would devote hours to compiling an exhaustive sightseeing itinerary, but skimp on the planning when it came to meal times, getting their first taste of ‘British’ cuisine at some tragic chain or tourist trap – so it’s no wonder they came away with an altogether forgettable or negative experience. Serves them right.

As a country that takes a perverse pride in being rubbish at most things, maybe we got into the bad habit of absorbing the insults about British grub; but why? As someone lucky enough to grow up in a food-loving household with plenty of homemade meals, I know that we’ve got more to offer; so why don’t we stand up for our cuisine?

Thankfully, there are plenty of veteran establishments quietly setting these culinary critiques to rights, one dish at time. The Clifton Sausage have been around since 2002, and they’re on a mission to show that, when done well, simple British food can be up there with the world’s best when it comes to taste and satisfaction.

They must’ve been doing something right, because they’re an enduring favourite with locals and passers-by alike: even on a dreary grey hump day, the place was filling with drinkers and diners when we rocked up.

Digs in the exclusive Clifton Village enclave are about as far from humble as you can get, but as you enter the Sausage you could be forgiven for feeling you’d strolled into a country pub. Everything about the place speaks rustic but stylish comfort; simple, unpretentious furnishings are the signature look, from the wood panelling, to the solid, sturdy pine tables and buttermilk flagstone floors.

Each space in the restaurant has its own shade and personality – we walked past rooms of sky blue and deep red before settling in a warmyellow area, with an ideal people-watching spot by the window.

After a bit of a chat with our charming host Elle, we kicked off with a round of drinks; a prosecco for me and a smoky Laphroaig whisky for my companion. We had already eyeballed the specials menu and zeroed in on the grazing platter for our appetizer – realising, when it showed up, that gorging platter would have been a more apt description.

Milano, salami, Serrano ham and chorizo arrived on a sturdy wooden board, fighting for room with chunky mozzarella pearls, crunchy little cornichons, a fresh, springy mixed leaf salad and meaty sausage rolls – DINING DETAILS The Clifton Sausage 7 Portland St, Clifton, Bristol BS8 4JA Opening hours Monday-Friday noon to midnight, Saturday and Sunday 10am to midnight We visited Wednesday evening Prices Starters and nibbles from £3; mains £11-23; dessert £4-8.50 Drinks A good range of wines, beers, ciders and spirits on offer Atmosphere Relaxed with a nice buzz miniature of size, mighty of flavour – all accompanied by thick slabs of country-style homemade bread that we lavishly slathered with butter. Of course, it’s called The Sausage for a reason, and that’s exactly what we came for; there are usually at least eight varieties on the menu at one time, but it’s not all bangers and mash. Classic British dishes are in plentiful supply, with venison, pork belly, braised beef cheek and fish specials of the day for the more carnivorously inclined. Veggies and vegans haven’t been forgotten, either – there’s a sausage for you, too, among other tempting plant-based offerings.

I opted for the eponymous Clifton sausage, which arrived nestled in an island of mash, surrounded by rich, dark onion gravy, winning an instant thumbs up from this Northerner who has no patience for delicate drizzlings of the stuff. I need it to be swimming. The bangers were plump, hearty and full of flavour, with pops of sweet cider and zingy mustard, the champ creamy and the side of lush winter greens deliciously buttery, cooked to al dente perfection.

My partner’s mains featured an indecently indulgent slab of slowroast belly of Old Spot pork; its crispy crackling perfectly preserving meltingly tender flesh, accompanied by a tower of light and creamy Dauphinoise potatoes and spiced red cabbage, with a pool of inky rioja gravy. This dish is definitely not for the fainthearted or light of appetite, and even my rapacious companion had to wave the white flag and admit defeat, albeit unwillingly.

I’m a sucker for a traditional pud, and at this point even our second ‘dessert’ stomachs were in protest; but we nonetheless persevered and ordered one to share. Semi-submerged in a moat of molten butterscotch sauce, our sticky toffee pudding was fiendishly sweet, the gooey and the rapidly melting ball of vanilla ice cream proving a cooling addition as we repeatedly seared our mouths in our enthusiasm. Feeling a little fuzzy from our second round of drinks, and increasingly grateful for the downhill journey home, we took our time leaving, and stopped at the bar on our way out to natter with the staff. It’s a great thing when the service at a restaurant is your idea of perfect, and for us that’s how it was at The Clifton Sausage.

The lovely Elle made sure our every need was met, but kept it casual: she chatted, she checked in once or twice, but otherwise left us to it without any over the top formality and fuss.

And that, right there, is where the success of the Sausage lies – it’s one of those self-effacing places that doesn’t need to pretend to be anything other than what it is. It’s British food done well, and we’d challenge any of our friends across the pond to say otherwise. n