To use an analogy inspired by my dining companion, The Ox experience equates to a great hat and great shoes, but the suit needs a little work…
Located somewhere between Clapham North and Clapham Common stations, The Ox already has a brilliant catchment area and, frankly, if I lived in that postcode, it would probably already be my local. The interior – low light, lots of wood, flashes of bare brick – is soothing. The soundtrack is audible but not overpowering. Staff are, to a person, utterly charming, informed and helpful.
They keep a good pint of Guinness. The wine list – concise, mostly familiar grapes, bottles between £30 and £45 except for bubbles – is decent and decent value by London prices. The menu has been written by someone who understands how to press buttons: I mean, if you can resist descriptions such as “farmhouse butter mash”, or “stock pot gravy” or “stout toffee sauce” then you clearly have more willpower than me.
Food and Drink at The Ox
On that theme, Starters read like a dream. You could have a spectacular evening of drinks and nibbles just by working through it or, indeed, by sticking to the signature Ox Cheek Toastie several times. I mean, read that dish name again, carnivorous folk, and tell me you don’t want it. The execution matches the promise: it’s rich, crispy, soggy, messy, and utterly blooming delicious.
There’s also a very decent Scotch Egg which is taken to new levels of pleasure with a little ramekin of something billed as “pickled onion mayonnaise”. Again, whoever’s writing that menu deserves a raise. In current social media vernacular, that’s a God-tier condiment.
And so, excitedly, we progressed to mains. And that’s where the “problems” start. I’ve added quotation marks because they’re not exactly problems, just little things that irked me a little and, to be fair, we didn’t opt for steaks which, judging by the ageing cabinet on display by the bar, is clearly the signature dish(es).
So, across the table, a smash burger of Luing beef – “double patties, twice seared” in fact – with skinny fries and “sticky jus”. With a dunking of the latter – an intensely umami-laden, Marmite-esque gravy – it all made sense. Without it, it looked the business but was a tad under-seasoned for both our tastes, and we couldn’t help but think that the Marmite-esque nature of the jus would divide crowds.
For me, the Beef Bourguignon pie. The menu asks you to “allow 20 mins” for this. Given that the other similar offering, a vegetarian option, doesn’t come with a time warning and is described as a “pub pie” with a puff pastry top, the distinction – to me, anyway – implies the beef pie will arrive fully encased in pastry. And it doesn’t. It’s a casserole with a lid or, if you prefer, a pub pie. It’s not a big deal because the disc of pastry that sits atop the filling is superb, and the filling is generous, rich and absolutely delicious.
The ”pie” – quotation marks now purely cynical – comes with “triple cooked” chips that are the first real misfire of the night. They’re soggy and anaemic, and if they’ve seen a frier twice let alone three times, I’d be very surprised. While they never looked to have been crispy in the first place, they’re also served in a cone which makes them steam and go softer (although they were much improved after being tipped onto the plate).
My other problem with the chips? I didn’t really want them in the first place. It’s a pie (or a “pie”) with a Beef Bourguignon filling. If ever a dish was crying out for Farmhouse Butter Mash, surely this is that dish? However, oddly, no substitutions were permitted which seems a little odd at the best of times but doubly so with a 20-minute wait built-in. Ho hum. Such are rules.
So, yes, “problems” as in utterly First World type problems. The “pie” – alright, I’ll stop now – was still delicious, the burger had its moments (and the skinny fries were very good) and a side dish of sprouts and shaved parmesan was an excellent addition. And the staff, as mentioned above, were charming, professional and genuinely lovely. They knew the menu inside out, made eye contact when you needed them and, while clearly very well trained, hadn’t lost their individual personalities, and happily recommended things in a manner so genuine we felt we’d let them down when we didn’t order their suggestions.
As for pudding, well, you can probably guess. The Sticky Toffee pudding is the dish that comes with the aforementioned “stout toffee sauce” (not to mention a scoop of clotted cream ice cream) so it was always going to be one order of that and two spoons, please. And it was very, very good. Light but decadent, sweet but balanced, and when the ice cream melted into the sauce, I suspect I made noises only dogs can hear.
All told then, a very enjoyable evening in a very good gastropub and, as mentioned above, if I lived vaguely close, The Ox would almost certainly be my local by now. I will, happily, return sometime soon for another swerve at the starters and a pint or two. It’s just that they’re so painfully, achingly close to being one of London’s best such offerings, it’s frustrating.
The Ox
50 Clapham High Street
London
SW4 7UL
United Kingdom
