A.A.Gill woke up in a sweat. He had been dreaming that he was lost in the Welsh Valleys, surrounded…read moreby the people he loathed, with nowhere to eat except endless chippies, kebab houses and chinese take-aways. But he didn't know about Alfreds.
Alfred's looms out of the heart of Pontypridd's market area, an oasis in a desert of unexceptional shops, caffs, and tawdry van traders. It is a roomy conversion of an old Bank building, expensively refurbished (with a sizeable grant from the EEC, I'm told) and set over two floors, the design being based on Modernist Manhattan, with exposed brick, steel beams, strip-oak flooring and bespoke contemporary artwork. A large atrium with a glass balcony looks over a sofa lounge and fireplace. Downstairs you will find a 20 metre bar, with light meals and tapas available; upstairs, a spacious twin-roomed restaurant, with food counter and openplan kitchen centrally placed.
It was opened in late Summer 2004 and named after Alfred John who was the founder of Pontypridd Market. A large photographic print of this gentleman dominates the atrium. And it has survived, proof that a good restaurant can flourish anywhere.
There is a Lunch Menu with a dozen choices running out at around £10 for two courses. A la carte is always available with some twenty staple choices and a changing daily Specials Board. Most of the food is on display in the refrigerated counter, where you can choose your piece of meat or fish, and even specify how you want it cooked. A help-yourself salad table and cheese selection lies alongside. A comprehensive Wine List gives you the opportunity to enjoy a glass or two at very reasonable prices, or push the boat out with a Grand Cru Classe Bordeaux.
The service would melt even Gill's heart. The waiting staff consists of homely Welsh mother figures who fuss you to death, some intellectuals from the nearby University of Glamorgan, and a selection of internationals, including at today's count a Brazilian supermodel, a delightful Spanish Manuel type chappie, and a pair of Polish elopees. What's better is that your table is open season for all of them - no demarcation here - so one by one they all come past to see how you are doing. Food can go cold as you engage in lively conversation with each of them.
On Fridays and Saturdays the bar downstairs morphs into a nightclub with DJ's and doormen, and genteel diners descending after a fine meal can have a bit of a shock as the Ponty Mob get down and dirty on the dancefloor.
It fails to get 5 stars on one account. The owner, Nick John (same family as the eponymous Alfred), slinks around from time to time but looks straight through his guests and has never spoken to me in 4 years of custom. At least he doesn't foist himself on you. And his staff more than make up for him.