We had one of those great but pointless discussions about “what is Modern British cuisine?” and you’ll be glad to hear I’m not going to bore you with my arguments or our (lack of) conclusions. Although I think we did conclude that the Quality Chop House is still genuinely Traditional British, just with some useful 21st century expectations thrown in to make it truly awesome

It’s certainly a traditional dining room, being grade II listed and seating you on wooden benches in wooden booths that have quite possibly been here for the whole of the place’s 150 year history. Ambiance: big tick. Food? Bigger tick.

Pig head croquettes are spiffy, two generous cubes with a good pepper mayo, impossible not to love. Our other snack is a mahoosive bowl of soft whipped cod roe with a powerful charcoal smoky flavour, really really hard to stop eating. But we need to because the starters are grand.

My slab of game terrine is excellent, studded with pistachios and sour cherries. The marinated cranberries with it are a perfect relish. It’s a mighty slab. Maureen’s crab rarebit is an odd beast. Why would a sturdy cheesy rarebit on a hunk of sourdough want to be topped with white Brixham crab? And why would you want South-East Asian inspired flavours of peanut, cucumber and curry in there? It should have been a car crash, but they all miraculously swerved each other and swooped off in formation like the Red Arrows. I may have mixed metaphors there. It was basically delicious.

I couldn’t stop gawping at my roast pheasant. It was just the perfect dish, for the restaurant and for the cold rainy Christmas-is-coming night outside. The roast breast, pink and full-flavoured. The parfait liver, silky and irony. Perched on dripping-fried bread. The tiny pan full of deeply flavoured mince and parmesan foam. The bread sauce. The game chips. The good gravy and cranberry sauce. Every element fairly perfect and an absolute feast.

Maureen’s ox cheek with XO sauce served on a rich olive oil mash was no slacker, the rich meat given a great overdose of umami and heat by the XO. To be fair, the sheer power of the dish became a bit much over the long haul. And the portions at the Chop House are generous from start to finish! There was no hope of trying pudding, alas.

It’s probably £40 for three courses at the Quality Chop House, and I think that’s bang on the money for the wonderful cooking and generosity of plating. We found plenty of good wines by the glass, and started with a couple of very excellent cocktails. If it wasn’t at the wrong end of London, the QCH would be an instant local favourite of mine.

Comfort is a big part of how you rate a meal, whether you care to admit it or not. I remember getting to WTLGI down slippery frozen steps on a snowy night, teeth chattering, and then finding that it was never quite warm enough in the dining room to thaw out properly. I’m willing to bet that contributed to our unwillingness to engage with their cutting-edge concept menu. If you’re not comfortable, you tend to crave comforting food. It’s an extreme example but anything can colour your enjoyment of a meal. Perched on a hard stool elbow-to-elbow with other diners feels quite alright to suck down a bowl of ramen, but when asked to enjoy beautifully presented small plates that will set you back upwards of £40 per person it’s a bit jarring.

So I should declare that we were sat outside at Fallow, so we could dine with friends in Tier 2, and that it was below 5 degrees. The flame tower heater helped a bit, so did the blankets, but I had still lost all feeling in my toes by main course. The food was still jolly good.

Corn ribs turned out very cleverly to be chunks of grilled sweetcorn quartered lengthways and dredged in sweet spices and lime, so you could gnaw on them like a rib and get lots of bits stuck between your teeth. A fallow scrumpet turns out to be a pig-head croquette, beautiful gooey fibres of meat inside and a gherkin perched upon it.

By contrast, my starter was half a cod’s head. I’m a sucker for a fish head. It’s fiendish fun trying to dig and fiddle all the bits of meat out, and you end up with a surprising lot of very lovely meat. They had drenched it in a sriracha butter that gave a friendly kick to the cod.

The Fallow burger is a good specimen, very flavourful beef cooked just to pink and a sweet but sturdy bun. Tim went with the venison, also excellent quality, nicely paired with a peppery sauce, but this delicate dish was one that felt a bit odd to eat while wrapped in a winter coat and blanket. My main was earthier and I thought really excellent. A very earthy spelt risotto, finely shredded celeriac, chunks of roasted hen-of-the-woods fungus, a poached pullet egg and crispy panko topping. Very umami and with every kind of texture. If I had one tiny “hmm” it was that the white of the pullet egg was still at the “white snot” stage of cooking.

Shout out to a really excellent pudding, perfect for the weather. A hot and caramely lemon curd fondant, topped with lots of curls of lemon peel and a quenelle of lemony cream on top. The sourdough ice cream with malted crumbs on top was also good but just t-t-t-t-too cold for the weather!

Now, you’re probably heading up to £50 for a 3-course meal (though if you went for burgers and snacks instead of starters it’s more sensible). I think for it’s great position just off Regent Street you might forgive a bit of a mark-up, and I’m veeeeery aware that we didn’t have the best match between comfort & ambiance and the food, but I’m still going to say it’s a tad steep. Got nothing to complain about the food though, it’s all top nosh.