2 weeks Ago
The other week, I was racking my brain as to somewhere informal to dine but still offered good food near Ditchling, writes Nick Mosley. I had in my mind that it was a big birthday for my dad – before being rapidly slapped down with “I’m not that old yet” – so wanted a venue that was relaxed for a family get together. It occurred to me to I hadn’t been to The Jolly Sportsman pub in East Chiltington for several years so – expecting them to be full – I booked a few weeks ahead for a Friday evening supper.
As per, although it’d been a while, this wasn’t my first rodeo at The Jolly Sportsman. I’ve had some enjoyable meals and lazy summer afternoons enjoying a pint of Sussex or two. But disappointingly on this particular occasion, it didn’t just miss the mark but fell well short of even a respectable dining experience.
The exterior of the venue was lit like a domestic house rather than a hospitality business – in fact we actually drove past it. The walk from the rear car park to the front door was so dark I’d say it was a ‘slips and trips’ risk waiting to happen. Despite only a handful of guests in the bar and restaurant, the welcome was mediocre so we’d already got off to a bad start.
Inside, the venue looks tired and gloomy; only helped by the low lighting that one could argue added atmosphere but in reality just made it difficult to read the menu. The furniture looked worn and ill-placed; if you have a circular table then it should be placed directly under the ceiling lamp rather than offset. Details like that matter in a hospitality environment.
The menu is – shall we say – ‘concise’. To be honest none of the six starters or mains particularly inspired me. So my mother and I shared a bowl of garden pickles, which were pleasant enough but nothing to write home about.
My sister had the cured trout which at £12.50 was the meanest dish I’ve seen in a long time: six meagre slivers of fish that looked like off-cuts with some rather grey rolls of pickled cucumber that had more flop than crunch. Dad went for haggis croquettes which to my eye looked like they’d spent way too long in the fryer but apparently tasted okay.
The mains ranged from okay to less-than-average. The-pan fried sea bass that my sister ordered appeared – and tasted – like a grey, wet Tuesday. If you’re serving fish with skin on then that has to be cooked to crisp, edible perfection rather than a flabby disdainful layer that needs peeling off and discarding.
That was £26 including a pile of beetroot and leeks that could’ve been dolloped on the plate by the school dinner lady. The fish and chunky chips were fine but there’s not much you can get wrong with that. I’m no steak fan but went for that as nothing else on the menu took my fancy.
It was fine due to the quality of the meat. But at £36 in a pub you’d expect it to have at least an attempt at a wow factor. And my personal menu bête noir reared its ugly head.
When it comes to pub food, then serve a full plate. When you’re charging premium prices for dishes, potato or vegetables shouldn’t really be a £5 extra. I get why restaurants do it, but to me I think its treating the guest as a mug.
We skipped desserts. I’m a long-time champion of Sussex food, drink and hospitality – and I 100% know the huge challenges that businesses in the industry face right now with staffing and overheads – but unacceptable standards in service and food are more than clear to owners. You can bang the provenance drum as loud as you like but if you can’t deliver the dishes then open the kitchen only on the days you actually can or simplify your menu.
For a Friday night, I think there were five tables which for one of the historically most renowned gastropubs in East Sussex speaks volumes. As ever, I kept a close eye on the room, and I saw one plate returned to the kitchen which I doubt spoiled that family’s meal but showed to me that it wasn’t just us who were less than impressed. With a final bill of just over £200 for two starters and a bowl of pickles, four mains, a couple of beers, a glass of Sussex red and a bottle of house wine – alongside a rather depressing level of parochial service and unloved space – we left feeling rather mugged off.
I really hope that this was a blip at The Jolly Sportsman. I’ll return in the summer and let you know..
