Fay Maschler reviews St. John Bread & Wine: Everything is a strong suit here

To mark 25 years of the seminal Smithfield restaurant, The Book of St. John (Ebury Press), with many new stories and recipes, will be released on October 3. A while back its authors Fergus Henderson and Trevor Gulliver asked me for a quote for the jacket. As a true believer, I was honoured to oblige.

“Strait is the gate and narrow is the way” — an observation from St John’s gospel chum, St Matthew — was how it kicked off as I thought this a consummate summary of the restaurant’s political approach to food and aesthetics. I went on to include words such as blossoming, revelations and gratification but the sales team at Ebury said, in essence, that it would be over the heads of potential customers so they won’t be using it. Just thought I’d get that out there.

Instead it prompts me to go back to St. John Bread and Wine as I am constantly hearing contented murmurings about it. Amy Gadney, for whom it is a first visit, is my companion at one dinner. We meet for a drink — owing to popularity, the booking has had to be late — at Blixen in Brushfield Street beside Old Spitalfields Market, and then walk down towards Nicholas Hawksmoor’s Christ Church pointing up eerily pale in the dwindling light.

The proximity of worship is not lost on either of us. Amy invokes the Amish way of life but also art school in describing the atmosphere in the dining room, and later praises “the let’s-not-make-a-meal-of-things while-we-make-a-meal-of-things vibe”. Breaking bread is fundamental to the experience and ace sourdough made in-house served with soft butter is brought without asking.

“What is Innes Log?” Amy asks. “If you don’t recognise a word on a menu it is invariably cheese,” I say in a stepmotherly sort of way. Chunky slices melting on roasted tomatoes beneath a glossy green leaf of cabbage, the log is indeed cheese and its creaminess contrasting with knuckled-under acidity and eat-your-greens virtue is a triumph.

Slices of pink cold roast mutton with green sauce go well alongside. White cabbage (kohlrabi substituted at a different dinner) chervil and capers reads rather Presbyterian but is beguiling, thanks to precision slicing and smart dressing.

Roast pigeon with chard and mustard has powerful sanguinary gravy and a dish of the day of rabbit fillets an irresistible tangle of cooked and raw vegetables as accompaniment. Both leaf salad and cooked greens are uncommonly well composed, and because it is in season and because most people love it, corn on the cob plainly boiled is offered.

Welsh rarebit, as inviting to get into as a neatly, freshly-made bed on a chilly evening, is lobbed into the vegetable section on the menu but I recommend it as a savoury. Everything is a strong suit here, but desserts are particularly, you might say surprisingly, alluring. After damson ice cream with the texture of chewy velvet and a scoop of dark blackberry sorbet served with a wayward glass of Polish vodka, cheese on toast is the ideal landing pad.

It could also do its duty with any red wine still on the go chosen from the long, entirely French list, including bottles from St. John’s own vineyards in Languedoc. Thoughtfully, some are offered by magnum as well as by glass. Strait may be the gate and narrow the way but enjoyment here, helped along by gravely efficient staff, is boundless.

Fay's Favourites: Disciples of St. John

Hereford Road

Tom Pemberton’s set lunch is one of London’s most glorious transactions.

3 Hereford Road W2 4AB. hereford road.org

Marksman Public House

Sorry George Orwell, Tom Harris and Jon Rotheram have devised my ideal pub.

254 Hackney Road E2 7SJ. marksmanpublichouse.com

Trullo

Tim Siadatan followed this model neighbourhood restaurant with beautiful pasta at Borough’s Padella. Shoreditch next.

300-302 St. Paul’s Road N1 2LH. trullorestaurant.com