Vireo & Quill

Heated slowly in oil with a strip of peel until they soften.

Bread baked each morning; butter churned in house and salted heavily.

Smoked roe beaten with potato and lemon. Enough for two to share.

Crisp, salty and hot from the fryer — the thing to order with a first glass.

Bitter leaves and sweet fruit, dressed with cider vinegar and cream.

Blistered at the mouth of the oven and brushed with the garlic oil.

Whatever is best that week — usually cavolo nero or young kale.

Charred black outside, steamed sweet inside. Eaten with your hands.

Started the night before and left in the cooling oven until morning.

Brined for a day. Allow twenty-five minutes; it is worth the wait.

The day's fish, cooked on the bone. Ask the room what has come in.

Shin braised for six hours in red wine; pasta rolled the same day.

Can be made vegan with olive oil in place of the butter — just say.

Aged five weeks, rested by the oven, carved and served pink unless asked.

A deep bowlful with plenty of broth. Bread to mop is included.

Crushed, then roasted hard until the edges shatter.

Sharp and cold — the right thing next to anything from the oven.

Whole and young, roasted in their skins with the tops left on.

Yesterday's loaf warmed through, which is how we prefer it.

Set soft, with the honey taken just past dark.

Poached pears on frangipane in a thin, well-baked shell.

Loose and glossy, spooned rather than sliced.

A hard, a soft and a blue, cut to order and left to warm a little.

Sharp, orange and faintly savoury. The best aperitif here without alcohol.

Long, bitter and cold — good at the end of a heavy plate.

Pressed unripe grape with soda; all the acidity, none of the wine.

Fermented in the cellar and pressed with early rhubarb.

Coffee is a single-origin filter; tea is loose leaf, three to choose from.