The Newman Arms squeezes a whole lot of history into its compact space. It’s a curious building with a colourful past, including stints as a candle-maker’s shop, an ironmonger, a picture-framer, and even a brothel. As a pub, it’s attracted a remarkable roster of regulars including Dylan Thomas and George Orwell, with the latter using The Newman Arms as inspiration for the “Proles Pub” that features in 1984. Winston Churchill is also known to have visited, sampling a “Black Velvet”, the champagne-and-stout cocktail that has been revived as part of the pub’s recent revamp.
That renovation promises “modern flair with… cherished traditions” and, while there’s a little PR spin in that, it’s not so far off the truth. This is a warm and welcoming little pub that wears its eccentric heritage on its sleeve and, in the first-floor dining room, serves up some old school classics in straightforward, but well-executed fashion.
With a building that sprawls vertically more than horizontally, and me being someone who sprawls the opposite way, getting to that dining room requires negotiating the staircases at a slight angle, but hell, I’ve done worse for lunch.
The tagline for the new Newman Arms is “pies and pints”, and that’s pretty much what they do. And we’re talking proper pies too, not the anti-climax of casserole-with-a-lid, from a menu of economic beauty: four snacks, half a dozen starters (a couple of which can be enlarged to mains), five pies, a smattering of sides and, in what could be a nod to James Acaster’s and Ed Gamble’s Off Menu podcast, a straightforward either/or choice of chocolate cake or cheeseboard.
Having checked the menu online long before lunch, I knew exactly what would be ordered. Murphy’s Bread. The Crispy Lamb Belly Scrumpets, with pea salad and tartare sauce. Aged Beef Shin and Rib Pie, with Murphy’s Stout Gravy and, like all the pie options, grilled hispi cabbage and creamy mash. Perfect, right?
“Ah, sorry, there’s no Murphy’s Bread,” explained our charming waiter. “It’s been on the menu since Day One, but we’ve never actually had it.” Not a great start, but at least there are lots of good things to order inst- “Oh, and just to let you know, we also don’t have the Scrumpets or the Beef Pie.”
So, yeah, I’m all for an economic menu, but we’ve only just sat down and we’ve already lost 20% of it… Still, that’s very much a First World problem, and there’s still much to enjoy here. As a scrumpet substitute, we opt for the chestnut mushroom pâté, which is rich, creamy, and deeply flavoured, and comes with very decent, properly toasted sourdough and some bright, crunchy pickled shallots for contrast. As plan bs goes, it’s a good one.
Pie-wise, we settle on Chicken, Ham Hock and Creamed Leek, and the Mushroom Pithivier. They’re both very good indeed. The pastry is crisp and robust. They’ve clearly been made in-house: indeed, the pithivier is so gleefully organic in shape it threatens to fill the plate. The cabbage and mash are the perfect foils. The Black Velvet – Pol Roger, Murphy’s, served in a silver tankard – is a decadent lunchtime beverage that we enjoy immensely.
In fact, the only false note comes when a neighbouring table, who arrived just a few minutes after us, gets served a delicious-looking plate of Scrumpets, followed by a spectacular Beef Shin and Rib pie which, frankly, leaves us a little bemused. Maybe there’s a secret handshake? A system of pre-ordering? Given that everything we’ve eaten appears to be made from scratch, perhaps it was just a case of waiting a few minutes? Whatever the reason, it’s just a little odd and we’re still somewhat bemused as we polish off the chocolate cake, a delightful creation that sits somewhere between deconstructed Black Forest Gateau and mousse.
At the end of the day, it’s still definitely a thumbs up from me. A confused thumbs up, to be sure, but still a thumbs up. And, if I ever work out how to break the code and get my fork on that elusive starter and the mystical beef pie, I’ll happily return…
The Newman Arms
23 Rathbone Street
London
W1T 1NG
United Kingdom
