Discontent at The Contented Vine

This article was first published in August 1999

Spit-Roast is an evocative phrase. It reaches right back to medieval times when the welfare of poor little boys was sacrificed to turning spit handles in front of scorching fires in order to satisfy toffs who would later feast on whole birds and sides of meat before falling down dead drunk after consuming a hogshead of claret and a cask of port. Spit-roasts, the contemporary restaurateur has learned, mean ending the evening with a whole lot of over-cooked chickens and profit margins all to cock.

Rotisseries open with good intentions. They tend to close with a few cindery carcasses spinning into infinity. However, it was the spit-roasts that caught my eye in the publicity for THE CONTENTED VINE in Pimlico. Chickens and ducks are cooked that way on a daily basis; pork, lamb and beef are provided for a traditional Sunday lunch. The rest of the menu encompasses the sort of traditional English snacks you find in pub dining rooms these days, eg spring rolls with a sweet chilli dipping sauce, potato skins with soured cream and salsa, nam plau, guacamole, and some rather more ambitious main courses, eg, roast fillet of sea bream on a bouillabaisse sauce with a fondue of tomatoes and char-grilled China Sea escolar fish with coriander butter on a bed of salad and sauteed potatoes (Friday's special).

The Contented Vine is a pub conversion serving food all day during the week and a lengthy brunch at weekends. The owners are both involved in the wine trade and it was in the wine list rather than the food where pleasure was to be found.

The selection of snacks we chose to start the meal included spring rolls seemingly cooked from frozen, guacamole like something the Body Shop might sell, cocktail sausages with a wondrously high bread content and potato skins that turned out to be pieces of fried potato. The famed spit-roast duck was overcooked, dried-out duck served in a thick brown gravy that seemed to owe some of its viscosity to gravy powder. Mash and spinach paddled in this murky lake.

There is no mention of the organic word but the beef served is described as Glenbervie beef from Europe's top herd - 100 per cent certified Aberdeen Angus. "Award winning Glenbervie sets the standard for food hygiene." This was enough to guide one of us towards Glenbervie steak hache with French fries and a green salad. It was ordered medium rare but came well done with a texture resembling knitting and a flavour of stale fat. The chips weren't up to much either. A daily special of corned-beef hash with fried egg was OK.

The Contented Vine would not be worth reviewing but for its obvious good intentions manifest in easy-going hours and friendly service and its wines, many of which are served by the glass. The list embraces a section compiled by Farr Vintners, the estimable wine merchants whose offices are close by but whose stock is often whisked away to wealthy overseas clients. From their selection we drank an exceptional New Zealand Chardonnay, Kumeu River '96 and a powerful Chateau Pradeux Bandol '85 made from the uncompromising Mourvedre grape. So to be contented, drink well and eat as straightforwardly as possible. I noticed that a friend who lives in the area and was eating in the restaurant the night we visited had adopted this approach.

The Contented Vine
Sussex Street, London, SW1V 4RR