Dining Out 056: A weekend in Brighton
Four! Reviews! In One!
A slightly different one for you this week, borne out of the fact that I recently went on my dear friend Gina’s hen weekend in sunny Brighton. This involved:
- a shameful amount of money spent on trying to get a toy sausage dog out of a claw machine at the arcade on the Pier;
- a calculated attack on me by a seagull who performed a sort of Tekken move on me in order to claim a donut I had just started eating;
- a male strip show (naturally);
- a really annoying drag queen (also naturally);
- not one, not two, not three, but FOUR restaurant meals!!!
As such, in the spirit of livening things up around here a bit, I’ve decided that this week, rather than one big long review, I will write you a mini review of each of the four places we went to. It will be like a review buffet. The cheese and pineapple on a stick of reviews. The black forest gateau of reviews. The reformed chicken shape of reviews. Delicious.
La Choza
We went to La Choza on Friday night in a group of about 15 in total. It’s a very kitschy place with paper lanterns everywhere, walls full of those very Catholic religious icon pictures where Jesus looks yassified, and a menu of “Mexican restaurant” standards. The idea here is that you pick a type of dish (burrito, quesadilla, tacos and so on), and then you customise it with a filling and a salsa of your choice. I think this costs around £13, which is excellent value, though by all accounts they do stiff you on the drinks (I had a margarita slushie because wooooooo, and it was about a tenner.)
Food-wise I ordered a quesadilla – deeply underrated menu item imo, clearly my cheese toastie supremacy agenda rages on in a slightly different guise – stuffed full of pork conchinita (this is pork prepared in a highly acidic citrus marinade). It hit the spot! I’m not sure how tender, shredded meat, soft tortillas and sharp cheese could fail to hit the spot really; you know what you’re getting with a quesadilla, and this was just exactly what I wanted. Also, because I am a genius I took a punt on something called ‘Green Taco Shop Salsa’ and it was amazing – spicy, herbaceous, and the perfect lift to the sandwich. Great stuff, a lovely start, and a crowd-pleasing place to take a group, imo.
Red Roastery
Brunch on Saturday was at Red Roastery at Brighton Dome. This is a very brunchy brunch venue, which specialises in artfully placed tomatoes on the vine, big hunks of sourdough, and extremely involved iced coffees whose flavour combinations seemed to out-Starbucks Starbucks.
I really liked it here because everything was just Nice, which, when you’ve got a thick head, feels very merciful. The glasses that the orange juice came in were big and chunky, the water cups were little and delicate and squat, and my cappuccino was perfectly frothy. Even though my actual meal was a bit disappointing (‘Crab Benedict’ admittedly was always a bit of a risk – unfortunately the flavour combo was simply Too Rogue, and the cold crab alongside hot eggs was a bit of a nightmare; some points were redeemed, however, for the sweet-ish brioche bread), I’d go back again in a heartbeat just for the spiritual spring clean – and to order something a bit more normal.
Pinocchio
Just across from Red Roastery is Pinocchio which I’m told is a bit of a Brighton institution. It is a loud, lairy Italian restaurant – perfect for a party of about 20 hens en route to Dreamboys at Pryzm nightclub – with gingham lino tablecloths and gigantic Aperol Spritzes (two big ticks from me so far). True to the vibe, after admitting to myself that I simply was not hungry enough for my favourite British High Street Trattoria meal (lasagna and chips), I ordered a big plate of Bolognese – on the menu it comes with spaghetti but I requested a change to rigatoni, which is rarely not the right move*.
When the pasta arrived, it was cooked softer than you’d get it at most places (I am sympathetic to this because it’s how my nonna used to cook it**), and it came with a generous ladle of meat sauce dumped all over it. A bowl of that delicious, powdery, chalky Parmesan you seem to only get at these places was passed around the table – over heads, through elbow crooks – and I’d have dumped the whole thing over my meal if such a thing were permitted by the social contract. The garlic pizza bread that we ordered was a bit dry and cardboardy, but I barely cared, for I had a huge portion of pasta and a bucketful of white wine spritzer. If that turns out to be nirvana, I’ll be alright with it.
(Also side note RE: Pinocchio that might interest you – between us and another large party they had at the restaurant that evening, we had drunk them out of both vodka and tequila by 7PM.)
Sugardough
Following my poorly judged choice at the previous brunch, on Sunday morning, for the final meal of the trip, I kept it simple with fluffy scrambled eggs, browned mushrooms, avocado, and some crispy bacon, at Sugardough, which is an independent bakery and café. I know saying “eggs and bacon are good together” is like saying “the Pope’s Catholic” (eh? She’s topical! In all seriousness though rest in peace Holy Father) but honestly, what a partnership. David and Victoria. Reeves and Mortimer. Pig and chicken.
Ultimately, I think this was probably my favourite thing I ate all weekend. It wasn’t anything complicated, but it just felt so restorative, and my body was grateful for all the nutrients on the plate, though to put the enjoyment down entirely to that is to undersell Sugardough, which is a really sweet place – lots of frills and pastels, like a café in Sylvanian Families writ large and mostly serving people with hangovers. Absolutely everything I ate tasted incredibly fresh and like it had been cooked with just the right touch. A truly blessed end to an excellent weekend, and a solid few days of eating. Fin.
* I am not really a pasta shape purist because I believe they all have their place, even fusilli, despite the fact that even looking at it just gives me war flashbacks to my university kitchen. Rigatoni is of course the gold medal all rounder – Simone Biles if she were a pasta shape – and with a chunky, meaty sauce, it’s the only one I’m really considering.
** Listen to me, fucking Sophia Dolmio over here.
Dining Out is written by Lauren O’Neill and illustrated by Lucy Letherland. Weekly reviews are free to read every Thursday, and you can follow us on Instagram here, but if you’d like to see more, you can subscribe for £5 a month or £50 a year, to get extra content every second Sunday.
Click below to see paid and free subscription options, and thanks very much for reading.