Wellbourne, Bristol: ‘A curate’s egg of an evening’ – restaurant review | Felicity Cloake

One of the few downsides of this gig is that if you see something weird on a menu, you feel duty bound to order it

I’m excited about Wellbourne. It’s in Clifton Village, the higgledy-piggledy Bristol neighbourhood where I spent many happy evenings as an annoying youth – though, as I keep hearing from smug residents, the city’s food scene has moved on since those halcyon days of Whiteladies kebabs and half-pints of scrumpy.

My local mole highly recommends the Wiper And True beer, but I can’t resist the siren call of a “frozen martini”, which sounds pleasingly like the kind of thing I enjoyed in my student days. I’m hoping for a slushy the size of my head; I get an elegant and impeccably made cocktail in a frosted glass. Frozen, it ain’t, but it is good, as is the squidgy house-made sourdough and nicely salted butter, which would have been even better without an infusion of fig leaf that makes it taste like cheesy Ribena.

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