5 things you should eat at Dartmouth Arms

The interior’s now looking suitably cosy – and there’s a serious chef in the kitchen

The cosy new interior. Photo: PR
I hold my hands up. I disliked the revamped Dartmouth Arms when I first walked in on relaunch night a few months ago.

What have they done, was the cry, seemingly all around us, in muted whispers and amidst polite smiles. “At least it’s reopened,” was the necessary refrain, “at least it’s still a pub and not flats.”

Which is absolutely correct. But the former watering hole, with its circular Victorian bar dominating the ground floor, and its dark-panelled walls, was a low-key north London institution. How could the new owners really have ripped everything out in favour of a characterless long bar, a square or two of carpet, and a rather sterile back room (which, even in the good old days, was always a bit underused)?

But then the truth emerged: the pub was apparently left a shell by its previous landlords, with most features sold or destroyed. Thus the new interior had to be rebuilt from scratch – on a budget – meaning it was always going to be functional rather than ornate.

Its rebirth is thanks anyway to one Andy Bird, an established pub and bar operator, most respected for saving community pub the Chesham Arms in Hackney. And while the refurb was done on a comparative shoestring, over the last six months since opening, Bird and his team have really worked on the atmosphere to make the space feel more lived-in and welcoming.

There’s nothing contemporary about the décor, but nonetheless, every time we pop in, it’s less spartan and a bit more cosy: there are dim globe pendants, worn rugs, gilt-edged 1940s-style mirrors, and side lights more suited to the dining car of the Orient Express.

There’s also a vast chandelier, and bohemian palm fronds poking up alongside the upright piano, itself laden with paperbacks and board games. Heck, . A minor point? Perhaps they could lose some of the furniture in the crowded back room.

Still, it’s nearly packed on a steely grey Tuesday evening, with service that’s friendly and easy-going. The modestly priced menu (with nothing more than £16.50) comprises half a dozen small plates and mains, the emphasis on meat and vegetarian, with just one fish dish in evidence. If you like credentials, you’ll be pleased to hear that new head chef Adam Hardiman was trained classically, with stints at St. John’s, The Princess of Shoreditch, and with Jamie Oliver.

Thirsty? There are six taps of real ale and cider, as well as a further six on keg, and a good range of local breweries (Hammerton, Beavertown and so on). The wine list too is short, and to the point: of three reds, we chose a versatile house blend of Grenache, Shiraz and Mourvedre, which, it turns out, suits the hearty autumnal nature of our meal admirably.

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Elegant fingers of salsify over bitter, white-veined raw radicchio. Photo: Gabi Torres


This fruit has two seasons – one in early June and the other from late summer until round about now. It’s easy to forget how luscious a ripe fig is, all soft and yielding; and yet I always prefer them as a starter to dessert. Here they’re warmed in the oven, their ruby-red halves served with the winning accompaniment of soft gorgonzola, walnuts, leaves and sticky honeycomb pieces.


A root vegetable that’s related to the dandelion family, a mention of salsify on a menu leaves some folk scratching their heads. Often called an oyster plant because of its salinity when cooked, it’s like a skinny parsnip, with white flesh and tough skin. Hardiman braises it and layers elegant fingers over bitter, white-veined raw radicchio. Grated pecorino and toasted hazelnuts add umami notes and earthy crunch respectively.

Lamb rump on a bed of fregola. Photo: Gabi Torres.

Lamb rump

Fregola is a type of pasta from Sardinia, typically tiny chewy balls not entirely dissimilar to giant couscous – but with more body. In this main it adds weight to an attractive scattering of griddled sliced courgettes, skinny al dente carrots and sweet, aromatic basil. Sitting astride this colourful pile are three hunks of crimson lamb, veined with fat, their edges crisp and mouth-wateringly crusted. The plate is so balanced and well-seasoned that a requested pot of French mustard remains untouched.

Wild boar pie

Golden crust hanging over the bowl’s edge, this seasonal offering arrives on a ubiquitous wooden board, scattered with surprisingly delicious slivers of Jerusalem artichoke crisps. The melt-on-the-tongue boar – far lower in fat than its porky relative – is cooked for six hours, using the haunch, the meat coming direct from northern Wales. While we encounter a couple too many knobbly sunchokes for our taste, a side of romanesco cauliflower florets with garlic adds a welcome vivid green.

Golden crust and melt-on-the-tongue boar. Photo: Gabi Torres

Chocolate brownie

The food here is filling, and yet nicely portion-sized, we conclude. It’s also impressive enough to consider sharing a dessert. Another flavourbomb, this rectangle of nutty chocolate, in a teasingly shallow pool of salted caramel, is offset by the gently acidic notes of mascarpone. Thank goodness for the brisk stroll home.

35 York Rise NW5, open daily 4:30-11pm (weekends from midday). Starters from £4, mains from £9, desserts from £4.50. More here.

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