Nick wishes he'd stayed in the pub downstairs.
The Public House Group is aptly named. Founded by a trio of obviously talented men – Philip Winser, James Gummer and Olivier van Themsche – this is a company on a mission: to revitalise and to reopen the once-great British pubs that are today closing rapidly across the UK. In place of that dreadfully depressing sign ‘Hot Food Served All Day’, they intend to give their customers locally brewed British beer and food that will appeal, through its freshness and simplicity, to customers of all ages.
They first opened The Pelican in Notting Hill, west London, then The Bull in Charlbury in Oxfordshire and then last year they added The Hero in Maida Vale. En route, they enlisted two ex River Café chefs to open Canteen in Notting Hill. The Fat Badger, also in Notting Hill, will be next. They are on a roll.
Neither size nor a rambling interior appear to faze the group if their reincarnation of The Hero is anything to go by. This pub, formerly known as The Hero of Maida, occupies a vast corner site on Shirland Road, with drinkers outside on the cold evening I revisited there, but not the wet lunchtime when I first went.
Once inside, a large, welcoming bar awaits with a vast array of drinks and every surface put to use. The round table-tops have your name and time chalked on them if you have booked. The menu is scribbled on the mirrors and the cutlery arrives in a cast-iron mug. Our waitress appeared, stylish in brightly coloured baggy trousers and with tattoos on her arms that were almost as colourful. The interior is relaxed and mirrors what is outside; very Notting Hill.
The menu in the ground-floor bar fits this setting completely. There are a couple of soups – oxtail and leek-and-potato when I went with an old friend – in addition to the ubiquitous oysters, and radishes with cod’s roe. The plates of ham, egg and chips ordered at the next table looked perfectly cooked. Also on offer was a cheese-and-onion pie and a lamb hotpot. But it was the fish that tempted us and we ordered a skate wing with capers (shown above) and hake with creamed spinach (below) with a plate of french fries which we washed down with a half of Guinness each. Although we’ve known each other more than 60 years, we almost fought over the desserts as we dug into the chocolate mousse and a warm rice pudding laced with jam. Both were delicious and I paid my bill of £88.89 including excellent service, extremely happily.
The ground floor of The Hero had done its job. It had been welcoming; the food and the service had exceeded my expectations; and it had me eager to return.
It had also achieved one of the biggest challenges in the restaurant business: it had made me keen to climb the flight of stairs and head for the more expensive dining room on the first floor, here called The Grill. As I have written before, asking any customer to leave the ground floor for either an upstairs or a downstairs area is an often awkward demand. Customers invariably believe that they are being sent somewhere they are not going to like. But here, five days after this excellent lunch, JR and I climbed the stairs in expectation of a fine dinner.
The climb revealed more of this charming building and what a great deal of pleasure uncovering it must have been. We arrived at 7 pm as two of the first customers so we were able to take in the splendid, vast room while it was still quiet, except of course for the loud music. They have sensibly kept redecoration to a minimum and we were able fully to appreciate all the original mouldings. You could throw a seriously big party in here. The tables were laid up with JR glasses and, apart from some fairly meagre lights hung from the distressed ceiling, the only additional light was provided by candles on each table. It was moody, bordering on almost dark. Below is the view from our corner table.
This lack of light became even more obvious as we were shown to our corner table and handed the menu. This single piece of paper was extremely difficult to read and, with just one-word listings of the main ingredient, even difficult to interpret. The intent of the layout became clear only after overhearing one of the three clearly-spoken waiters explaining it to our table next door. The line down the middle of the menu separates the two types of dishes: those on the left were for an individual; those on the right were bigger dishes to be shared. By this time there was a bit more light as a couple of tables to my right were already using the torches on their iPhones.
If the menu was difficult to read, the wine list was virtually impossible because of the light grey font. The combination of this faint colour and the lack of light had me holding the list dangerously close to our candle, before giving up. We began with a couple of glasses of Valdespino Deliciosa Manzanilla (£7 each) before moving on to a glass of Calice de Saint Pierre 2023 Châteauneuf du Pape (£14) and a glass of Trediberri 2023 Langhe Nebbiolo (£12). I was to pay a bill of £109.69 for the two of us, of which our drinks totalled £40.50 and the service £12.19. Which left £57 for our food.
This covered the dish described as ‘cod, curry sauce’ as a main course for me (below) and a first course described as ‘raw beef, hash brown’ for JR (above) which turned out to be akin to a well-seasoned beef tartare on crisp potato with grated cheese on top.
I ordered the cod for two very different reasons: firstly, because I had enjoyed the fish dish I had eaten on the ground floor the week before and secondly because I was intrigued by the accompanying sauce. It had been a long time since I had seen the phrase ‘curry sauce’ on a menu. I was to be disappointed not in the cod, which was generous and perfectly cooked, but in the sauce that was too vinegary and contained unspecified potato discs.
The menu, as a whole, I found uninspiringly bald. Dressed crab, possibly London’s most expensive, at £38 for a starter portion, and the apparent absence of any sauces, were the most obvious shortcomings. But I also found its tenor was less than welcoming. I know it takes skill to fillet fish and butcher meat and to lay it on the grill correctly but there has to be more to justify these prices. ‘Rib Eye 1kg/£120’, for instance.
JR justified her decision to order only a first course to our waiter by explaining that she was saving room for a dessert but here again we were to be disappointed. On a separate piece of paper came a long list of digestifs and sweet wines and just two desserts, a plate of cheese and a couple of ice creams and a sorbet, not entirely suitable for a cold evening in early March. We passed on these and walked out of the dark dining room, by now full of diners, and downstairs through the justifiably crowded ground floor where I wish I had remained.
The Hero 55 Shirland Road, London W9 2JD; tel: +44 (0)20 3432 1514
Every Sunday, Nick writes about restaurants. To stay abreast of his reviews, sign up for our weekly newsletter.