This was my third visit to Noah's because, y'know, I just needed to check the first tow weren't a…read morefluke. Happy to report, this is a seriously good restaurant. Noah's sits on Spike Island in a fairly bleak setting. It's also shaped like an arc. If you can get past these two things you're in for a treat.
To call Noah's a fish and chip restaurant would be underselling it massively. Yes they do very nice fish and chips indeed but there's plenty more in the locker here. And it seems to me that everything they do here is done with care and love and attention to detail.
From the outside it's not promising. Essentially the restaurant sits underneath what I'd describe s a small fly over and there's nothing around it except a municipal car park and an air of desolation. But then you look at what they've built, how they've fit the space, you get an idea of that care and love. Beautifully put together wood panelling which contrasts completely with the concrete that surrounds it. They've put a lot thought and energy into this.
Inside has real warmth. Modern wood panelling, exposed iron struts, nice metal lampshades and simple comfy stools and benches. Smooth wooden floors. The carpenters have earned their corn for sure. Swedish summer house vibes. Smart and stylish but friendly, a lovely balance.
The welcome is also warm. Confident young staff put us at ease very quickly and guide us to our table across the open plan floor where we plot down and have a good old look round. It's buzzy. Plenty of chatter. A good cross section of people. Young, old, families, a couple soon to be a family. Bristol's eclectic and so are the clientele here. Nose rings and DMs dine next to pearly necklaces and brogues but one thing they all agree on is Noah's is great.
The menu is simple and there's nothing on it I don't want.
Passionate as they are about 'showcasing the best of British seafood', we all go our separate ways in order to have our hake and eat it.. Fish and chips can be either cod, haddock or hake. Cod it is for a growing student who is thinking as much about how many calories he can get in as he is about taste.
Me on the other hand, my body's a temple. Sea bass fillet on a bed of cherry tomatoes. If the missus sees sole with brown butter and capers all the other words on the menu simply disappear.
Starters are begging to be sampled. Each mussel that makes up mussels in white wine, butter and parsley is plump and juicy. Shells are scrubbed clean and glistening. Details. A sprig of parsley offsets it all nicely. Care. Salt cod croquette sits in a small pool of beautiful tomato confit with a blob of aioli atop and a peashooter garnish. Pretty as a picture but not so much so that we don't devour. The acid with the unctuous, the crispy with the fluffy, the red and the cream. It's all working brilliantly and one feels it's more by design than luck. Confit tuna belly on sourdough has crunch and oily softness and the diced tomato adds zing. Scallops come with a proper crust and paddle away happily in garlic and herb butter. Expertly done all four. Note. Only three of us dining but four starters ordered. Greedy, yes. But a delight every one and just the right size to excite us for round two.
Main courses are every bit as good as the starters. Again, love and care in evidence in each dish including the fish and chips.
The crispy, thin beer batter does its job wonderfully, steaming the generous cod fillet within. Chips are thick cut and unapologetically chip shop like, just what the doctor ordered. Home made tartare sauce sets the whole thing off very nicely indeed and adds a touch of class.
The sea bass looks a treat. Proper size. lightly burnished skin, bright red cherry tomatoes below to cut through the olive oil and butter dressing. Chips are ordered on the side to add ballast but not ruin the picture.
Sole has been dusted in flour, fried confidently with the skin staying largely intact but with white flesh popping through in places. Capers settle atop and the whole fish is bathed in a nicely browned butter sauce. You don't need photography skills to make this look good.
We order a sticky toffee pudding to share simply as an excuse to stay here longer. Rather like the sole, the sponge bathes in a tasty toffee sauce. A brave bitterness in the dish to offset the sweetness. A nice sphere of ice cream and a little mint. The pudding isn't an afterthought. Love, care, attention lavished on something that might otherwise seem ubiquitous.
We stay and drink more wine. Why wouldn't you? When we finally prise ourselves out of the place we look back at the building and there's much to appreciate. Love, care and attention in every corner. If there's a better restaurant in Bristol, I'd love to know where.
