Galvin Hop, London E1: ‘Sausage rolls and pork scratchings and scotch eggs, the platonic ideal of each’ | Marina O’Loughlin

I could get used to having a hot dog as an amuse-bouche if it weren’t for fear of my arse taking over Britain

It’s a clever menu that makes you want to order everything on it. It’s an even cleverer one that somehow compels you to order a hot dog while you’re deciding. And it’s a work of brilliance when everything you order from said menu turns out to be just as you’d hoped it would be.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. Have a gander at what’s on offer from this “new” outlet from the much-garlanded Galvin brothers, Chris and Jeff, and see if it doesn’t make you hungry: sausage rolls and pork scratchings and scotch eggs, the platonic ideal of each: the sausage roll’s flaky pastry bulwarks bulge with rare-breed pork and it’s served with just-warm, homemade crisps. Fish pie, its potato topping glazed and burnished, comes with buttered peas and carrots like tea at your nan’s, if your nan was a kitchen control freak: creamy sauce, perky fish, fresh vegetables, buttery mash. There’s a gala pie, for gawd’s sake, as handsome a beast as you’ll encounter outside an Enid Blyton book. Is that crust golden, or is it just nostalgia?

Related: Macellaio RC, London EC1: ‘Meat dangles on hooks like a scene in Saw’ – restaurant review | Marina O’Loughlin