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There are things about the iconic institution which Oddfellows has become that are not completely clear to me. I know it has bedrooms, and will soon have more. I know it has a very acceptable bar (reviewed here). I suspect (but do not know) that there are other bars, set aside for the exclusive use of the members of a club which may or may not exist. And I know there are two dining rooms. Two anonymous dining rooms. There is no name - for either - outside the premises or in, in the menu display cases or on the website. Maybe this is deliberate, maybe not. Whatever. They offer the same menu at the same prices. They trade the same hours. You could say that they are two parts of the same restaurant.
Actually they do have names, but only in spoken English, never written. The first we shall call the Brasserie - a brutally elegant red sandstone bunker annexed to the bar. The other the somewhat baroque Pantry, in the front of the building, where antique tiles, marble and glass are highlit by battleship gray walls.
This second opened in 2009 to coincide with the arrival of Richard Phillips as Oddfellows' consultant chef. Richard Phillips is a well respected young chef who has earned his chops under the wing of the brothers Roux, in the kitchens of some of the nation's grandest restaurants and under the glaring lights of many a TV studio. Though his responsibilities down south mean the odds on him being present in Oddfellows at any given moment are very long, it is rumoured that he closely monitors the kitchen by remote control.
Both rooms are pleasing to the eye, modern and stylish. Less so to the ear: in the Pantry the hard surfaces serve to amplify the voices of the diners, to the annoyance of some and the delight of others, while in the Brasserie it is the music and chatter of the crowd in the bar that dominates. The Brasserie suits the evening better, while the Pantry strikes us as a lunchtime venue.
The menu is shortish, and the ingredients are seasonal and local, right down to the local beer used in the batter for the fish and chips. Since Richard Phillips's arrival, everything we have eaten here has been exactly right. The aforementioned f&c perfect on its wooden trencher, a splendid chicken and ham pie and one of those chi chi towers of black pudding, bubble'n'squeak and poached egg were all faultless.
On our latest visit, sadly, there were some service issues. Our order went missing and we had to complain several times before there was any sign of action. Although, eventually, pretty much everything possible was done to redress the error, this is the sort of thing that takes the shine off a meal whose prices quite clearly say 'special occasion'.
We love Oddfellows - as much as anything for its uniqueness, its one-offness, its oddness. Quality is a given; style is self-evident. Service is friendly and inclusive and deficiencies are not the norm. I think we would all be grateful if they could take steps to lift the veil of confusion: the website - once somewhat opaque - is now the antithesis of communication. Aside from this, Oddfellows is almost as good as it gets - for food, for ambience, for style - and it could be even better.
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