Goodbye Horses
SADDLED UP
I was rather hoping the sharing plates concept was just a fad, but it’s now pretty much the norm at the sorts of places I tend to frequent. I know where I am with a starter and main, not only the universal expectations over portion size, but also that my order is all mine.
As for sharing plates, there’s usually just some vague indication that 5-7 plates are probably about right if you’re dining as a pair. Then there are dishes that are difficult to share equally or, let’s face it… fairly and there are also the potential restrictions forced on you by the culinary foibles of your fellow diner. That’s all before the clumsy logistics of trying to make room for the food that nearly always arrive like an avalanche of plates, at the same time.
Here, it’s made worse by the menu not only being seasonally on point, but also that it reads like a list of my favourite things; seemingly designed for me to over order... yet another problem with sharing plates.
There is, however, a significant extra challenge to that aspiration, given they’ve just been awarded their first Michelin accolade and a Bib Gourmand at that. Not that they’re shouting about it, but they don’t really shout about anything. Their one-page website fits only the very loosest definition of content; there’s no social media; even the building has no signage, tucked away in bougie De Beauvoir.
Goodbye Horses interior
When I arrive, my daughter is settled in at the bar; a majestic, ten metre long, single piece of thick oak. It feels immediately homely, in the high-ceilinged space, with candles throwing their seductive light onto white painted brickwork. Whimsical illustrations—both on the bar length, paper pendant light and ceiling to floor hessian curtains—evoke a quietly charming world that is mostly lost in adulthood.
Ten minutes in, we’ve only just started the process of negotiating our route through the menu. At least, I’m with my perfect dining companion, with nothing out of bounds. It’s basically a decision over what not to have, although we’re both keen to leave room for the rice pudding with rhubarb and pistachios. We haven’t even looked at the long, ‘natural wine’ list yet and that’s the main reason we’re here.
Carlingford oyster with celery and fig leaf
To buy more time, we each go with an oyster—with celery pickled with fragrant fig leaf—and half of Guinness, served in a vintage Guinness glass that even Gandhi would consider stealing.
Domaine L’Octavin Elle Aime 2021
We eventually select an easy drinking—3:1 Pinot Noir and Chardonnay—Domaine L’Octavin Elle Aime 2021—that’s marginally tart, bursting with red berries, but earthy too.
Raw beef, anchovy & winter tomato
A beef tartare, glossy with egg yolk, is minced and never my preferred style, but it takes just two forkfuls to completely buy me. Chopped anchovy adds bass bin salinity and cranks up the umami to coax out the tart sweetness of sundried winter tomatoes, with bright tang from lilliput capers and something in there giving a wonderful crunch.
Crab toast & fontina
Crab toast and fontina is two pieces of a kind of savoury-umami loaded, brown-meat-fried-bread, topped with white meat, under a sweetness-intensified, velvety, fontina-loaded, stiff bechamel. I can’t imagine a more decadent crab dish.
Mushroom rice & Spenwood
Mushroom rice is an umami depth charge on the palate; it’s earthy, herby and the abundant savouriness is held in check by a kiss of acidity. Whilst all that tantalises the palate, its principal pleasure is its playfulness with textures.
Squid and chickpea ragù with saffron aioli
A squid and chickpea ragù with saffron aioli doesn’t reach the dizzying heights of what has come before it; whilst the braised squid is chew free, the chickpeas aren’t best in class and dominate the dish.
Braised lamb, pumpkin seeds and lentils
Getting things completely back on track is lamb, braised overnight, then roasted to lock in the succulence, served on a bed of lentils with pumpkin seeds and a plate-licking-jus, made from the braising stock. But I’m just picking at it and it rubs in that I’ve over ordered again. We’ve no room left for the rice pudding either.
By the time I declare myself done, I’m in full wriggle, trying to get comfortable on my stool, that’s increasing feeling like the heavy block of wood it actually is. It’s enough to prompt me to call for the bill, that’s £265 (Food £128 / Drinks £107 / Service £29).
It turns out that if I’ve got the right dining partner, quality wine and delicious dishes brought out one at a time, with a lovely pace to the meal, I rather like sharing plates.
HIGHLY RECOMMENDED
21 Halliford Street, De Beauvoir, London N1 3HB
5th March 2026
