The Jackdaw
Conwy - Modern Welsh - Restaurant - £££
The small, busy town of Conwy, dominated by its huge castle, has a surprisingly cosmopolitan feel: a Turkish baker, French pâtissier and Italian coffee shop along with an excellent cheesemonger, butcher, deli and top-flight chocolatier. It indicates a local constituency with the interest and ability to sustain such artisan outlets and perhaps explains why Nick Rudge chose to open his small, accomplished, first-floor restaurant here after a lengthy Fat Duck residency. The food scene of north Wales as seen through his eyes is proudly showcased in a choice of superb produce and often lesser-known regional traditions. He works closely with local farmers, especially Dilwyn Owen on Anglesey who provides lesser-known heritage varieties such as the almost extinct Bardsey apple (afal ynys enlli) and the y ddraig goch (red dragon) tomato. Without prior instruction you’d miss the entrance and modest name plaque. It feels like a semi-secret, almost medieval location, up ...
The small, busy town of Conwy, dominated by its huge castle, has a surprisingly cosmopolitan feel: a Turkish baker, French pâtissier and Italian coffee shop along with an excellent cheesemonger, butcher, deli and top-flight chocolatier. It indicates a local constituency with the interest and ability to sustain such artisan outlets and perhaps explains why Nick Rudge chose to open his small, accomplished, first-floor restaurant here after a lengthy Fat Duck residency. The food scene of north Wales as seen through his eyes is proudly showcased in a choice of superb produce and often lesser-known regional traditions. He works closely with local farmers, especially Dilwyn Owen on Anglesey who provides lesser-known heritage varieties such as the almost extinct Bardsey apple (afal ynys enlli) and the y ddraig goch (red dragon) tomato. Without prior instruction you’d miss the entrance and modest name plaque. It feels like a semi-secret, almost medieval location, up winding stone stairs and along a dim corridor. The single room is tranquil and airy, simply furnished with fleecy rugs on the wooden chairs, a bar at one end, bookshelves the other. The welcome is friendly and relaxed, with a hint of formality but no pomposity. Set meals are thoughtfully constructed, conceived as a whole, in harmony with both season and location: the intent is genuine and not your usual nod to fashion. In a novel take on food miles, the wine list notes the distance each bottle has travelled to arrive on your ground-zero table. And it includes some fascinating Welsh names, along with mead and spirits to enhance the regional interest. ‘Bread of heaven’ has become a fixture; made with kefir and whole grains, it is irresistibly nutty and earthy – a Welsh sibling of soda bread. Served in hunks with salty, cultured butter and a sweeter barley-based variant, it requires considerable willpower not to fill up on this alone. But do keep some for mopping up purposes. Confit potato with barbecued leek, wild garlic and creamy velouté – typically poised and precise with well-defined flavours – launched our spring menu. The Welsh idiom continued strongly with barbecued wild sea bass caught a few miles down the coast. Light and delicate, falling off the fork, it was confidently matched with saturnine morels, vivid crisp asparagus and more wild garlic (a seasonally welcoming repeat). ‘Riwbob and cwstard‘ was a Welsh wizard dessert, the rhubarb transmuted into an inspired sweet-sharp granita on a velvety custard base. This was followed by ‘llymru’, an oat biscuit with a bitter, beer ice cream based on the ancient dish of flummery – superfluous perhaps, but still an intriguing taste of Welsh history.
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Family friendly, Credit card required