Recently, I had a baby and got a new job. “Don’t boast, Rob, it’s unbecoming.” I’m not boasting, I’m setting the scene, giving context, and confirming that my testicles are fully operational.
With the start date of the job inching closer, I decided I should treat myself to a day out. A day of solo treats, a day to recharge the batteries.
So, naturally, I went to Sheffield. Anyone who has ever read a self-help book will know this is absolutely standard practice. I’d driven to Shrewsbury the week before, Shepton Mallet is next on the list. Once you’ve done all three you reach a state of zen that’d make the Dalai Lama blush.
Sheffield, the steel city, I simply adore steel. Always have. I remember as a child, the excitement of hurriedly unwrapping my first steel rod one Christmas morning. “He’s been, he’s been, Steel Santa’s been,” I bellowed at my parents. I loved that steel rod so much that I actually had a portion chopped off, smoothed and it now sits happily up my anus as a butt plug.
The plug positively glowed with warmth as I left the station and headed to the Sheffield Tap for a pint. Do you need me to explain what going for a pint is like? I hope not. I then walked through the city with the Fat Cat pub as my destination. Now, I will go into slightly more detail with this pint as it was interesting for a couple of important reasons:
1. The pint I had cost £2.90
2. The fact it was so cheap meant I veered off my itinerary and had two pints there rather that one, which was the start of my interesting booze decisions.
I really liked this pub, it was the sort of place I could quite happily imagine spending a day getting slowly drunk with friends. Well done them.
Next on the list was the main event, Jöro.
Some people who know what they’re talking about said I’d enjoy eating here, and they can all breathe a massive sigh of relief as they were right.
I think because the people behind me were on the soft drinks pairing, and the people in front were on the water – I decided to balance things out, so had a what I can only describe as a very hefty amount of booze. The sake soda was refreshing and delightful, all the wine was great and the plum sake was as bloody lovely as it always is.
As with all of my reviews, I’ve rambled on about nothing for the majority of it, and my bus journey is coming to an end shortly, so I’m going to give you the highlights of the meal.
Spelt porridge, chestnut mushrooms and vacche rosse (fancy Parmesan to you tramps). Chewy grains, umami, great.
Wonder how many times I can get ‘umami’ into the next few sentences. Fucking loads I reckon.
The scallop, Thai red curry foam, puffed jasmine rice and fish garum caramel sauce dish was possibly my favourite dish, for reasons pointed out on Instagram.
The mini sushi bowl with tuna belly and smoked egg yolk – big, juicy umami all over my face.
The lamb, which I was looking forward to the most was actually overshadowed by the fish dishes. It was good, and the bread brushed with lamb fat to mop up the sauce was excellent, it just wasn’t quite as punchy as what had come before. Umami.
The toffee apple with Parkin and bay ice cream was the pick of the desserts. Although I will freely admit, by this point I was a bit pissed.
It was a top meal, out of 10 courses I’d say I was only not fussed by one of them. It’s not been surprising to see head chef Luke French doing very nicely indeed on Great British Menu this week.
My butt plug and I then plonked ourselves on a bar stool at Public before it was very clearly time for me to go make my exit, put it this way, I don’t remember the train journey home.