[Disclosure: We were invited for a complimentary meal at Barbican Bistro for the purposes of this blog]
It’s an angry Cornish evening when we arrive at Barbican Bistro. Predictably, we take a wrong turn looking for the front door and end up on the harbour side of the building, where waves crash up higher than the walls and remind us of tales of pirates and fishermen taking on the high seas to find their fortune. Tucked down a cobbled alleyway we find the front door and leave the cold, wet night behind to exhale inside a low-lit dining room and the gentle buzz of other diners seeking solace in food after what feels like the longest, wettest Cornish winter ever.
Barbican Bistro is a family-run restaurant, opened in January 2023 by local brothers Jack and Jay Liddicoat who between them honed their craft at restaurants in London and Cornwall before opening their own business that serves up the ever-popular small plates. They focus on fish – unsurprising since the sea is literally feet from the restaurant’s front door, and their own father Shane is a Newlyn fisherman and one of the restaurant’s suppliers.
On a winter’s evening we’re all in the smaller dining, but I’m told there’s a much bigger space next door for when the crowds arrive, as well as outdoor seating for when the sun finally shines. But for this occasion, a cosy candlelit space is the perfect setting – as is a menu that knows that this time of year requires comfort from food more than any other – and we almost feel, tucked in our little corner, like we’ve taken a step back in time in this old stone building and could be sitting in a former smugglers’ den, where people centuries before us hid from storms and guzzled a glass of wine to warm their cockles during a Cornish winter.
Fortunately, while the best parts of that scenario remain – like a nice glass of wine and a warm corner, there’s no risk of arrest or worse. Instead, a civilised evening and a menu befitting of any small plates restaurant in a much bigger place than Penzance, yet boasting plenty to remind of quite how close you are to the sea. There are nibbles plus a range of small plates – some heartier than others – and the option to order as many as you like, or add more later on. There’s a blackboard of specials too, featuring fish that you know is the freshest it can be, making it no easy feat to pick a selection without simply order the whole menu.
We order pickled anchovies because they’re Jamie’s favourite – adding to his delight when the most generous mound I think I’ve ever seen in a restaurant arrives, with a kick of chilli and lemon adding to the inevitable freshness of the fish. Leek and cheddar croquettes are cheesy balls of joy, piled on a pool of thick, zippy Romesco that cuts through the choose but simultaneously adds to the comfort factor.
The dishes that scream ‘winter warmer’ are calling our names, so braised pigs cheeks with fennel are top of my list to order. They’re just as you’d hope – fall-apart, rich meatiness hiding in a stew that’s not just thick, but sweet and aromatic courtesy of the fennel. They’re the dish I go back for a second forkful immediately, but also because I can’t get a look-in with a hearty bowl of beef ragu that’s stirred through pappardelle and showered in parmesan.
It’s his perfect kind of dish at the best of times, but as execution goes, this is it. No cheap minced beef – proper chunks of slow-cooked meat, as light in texture as it is heavy in flavour. The pasta’s cooked right. Everything’s balanced. And while it’s described as a small plates restaurant, we agree this is probably a decent main course for your average person.
Fortunately if there’s one area of my life to be above-average in it’s eating, so we aren’t stopping here and have several more dishes to try. I’ve been advised that the double-baked blue cheese souffle at Barbican Bistro is unmissable – advice that is bang on the money. Because who on earth would want to miss the savoury joy of blue cheese, transformed into a soft, melted delight that yields at the simple touch of a fork.
For some people, Bridgerton arouses a certain kind of feeling. For people like me, a blue cheese souffle does the same thing. I’ll leave it there, but safe to say it’s a great feeling. They also cleverly put this on the ‘dessert’ menu as well as the small plates, so if you stupidly missed out the first time round you have a second chance to taste a bit of joy.
The hake with celeriac puree and tarragon butter came with no hype ahead of time, but knocked my socks off. Perfectly-cooked, its crispy skin contrasting with the soft flakes of fish, sitting on top of that earthy, slightly nutty puree then drowned in tarragon butter. Indulgent without being greasy or over the top, quality without being over-complicated, and a reminder that fresh ingredients, done right, really don’t need too much messing.
Another reminder of this same lesson are the greens with chilli and garlic. Fresh and light, with enough seasoning to enhance but not overpower the greens themselves. And a great accompaniment to the feast we manage to work our way through.
Despite my big appetite claims, it’s not unusual for Jamie and I to get carried away on the early courses and fall before the final hurdle of dessert – and here is no exception. We hear a few ooh’s and aah’s from other tables over their sweets, but console ourselves with the fact that at least we ordered that souffle during the first round of courses and haven’t left ourselves unable to enjoy it. Instead, we linger over our drinks, planning a return trip to Penzance after being reminded that despite over being overlooked, it’s rapidly becoming just as ‘foodie’ as plenty of other places in Cornwall.
As we leave to brave the howling wind and wend our way home, the bistro’s still buzzing with plenty of people not quite ready to brave the weather. And who can blame them, when there’s dishes like this to work your way through.
