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Andrew Kay is knocked out by a Polska feast at The Tin Drum

At 18 I was naive and had met – on a proper level – fewer than five truly foreign people – a boy from Africa called Summers, who danced when he saw snow for the first time, and an Asian family (father and mother both doctors). That was it, I think. I had been to an Indian restaurant and a Chinese one but I don’t reckon that they really counted. Then boom, I landed at Chelsea School Of Art and was surrounded by people of all nations. I loved it, Lancashire had been so, so parochial and so isolated.

I got to eat real foreign food too, all sorts, but my favourite came a year later when my friend Monica came to Chelsea. Her mother was Polish and I soon discovered a rich vein of European cuisine that still thrills me. I went to Daquise in South Kensington, The Polish Hearth Club in Exhibition Road and a funny place in Balham where the dumplings came dressed with crispy fried bacon fat sprinkled on top. It’s not for the feint hearted this stuff.

“The duck was divine, the right amount of sweet flesh wrapped in soft fat and crisp skin”

During the B&H Food Fest, The Tin Drum held a Solidarnosh event, a spread of Polish dishes and vodka. They invited me along and I could not go, already booked that night. I was disappointed and so, it would seem, were they as they asked me if I would go the lunchtime before the evening event. It would have been rude to decline, would it not?

I arrived at 1pm and made it quite clear that while I could easily eat a five course meal at that time of day, I might struggle with the vodka. They agreed to moderate the measures accordingly and my journey began. To start then, blinis with smoked salmon and sour cream. Springs of course. Why serve anything else? And buckwheat leavened pancakes. It was good, really good, but in hindsight too generous given what was to follow.

Next came barscz with uszka, that’s beetroot soup with mushroom dumpling. Mmm, beetroot soup, what a deep and earthy joy this is when well made, just a hint of vinegar, and at the heart a slippery parcel filled with soft fungi. I too make borscht, different, but that’s the joy of this dish, it should always be a little different.

Sledz next, that’s herring to you and me. This was meltingly soft and bathed in a dressing of olive oil and lemon with parsley and a red onion, dill pickle and potato salad on the side. There was little concession to dainty appetites here and I was loving it. I even succumbed and drank a little vodka, the perfect match. If you are starting to feel full then take a break here, we have only come part way, skip back and give my mate Katie a read if you haven’t already.

Is that better, rested? Good, we now have to consider a confit duck leg served with kasza and an apple and honey vodka compote. I love confit duck, and to say ‘leg’ is wrong, as it always comes with a big fat thigh still in place. This was divine, the right amount of sweet flesh wrapped in soft fat and crisp skin. The compote too was good, slightly sweet and heady from the booze, but not jarringly so. The kasza disappointed, and at this point they came clean and admitted that all attempts to make a kasza that they had liked had failed and in the end they had abandoned the buckwheat groats in favour of a pearl barley risotto. It might have been a wise decision, my memories of kasza are of an earthy grits-like dish that would not be to all tastes.

So finally to pudding. ‘Something light!’ I hear you beg, but oh no, out came a slice of baked cheesecake. Now anyone who likes American style chilled cheesecake go and stand in the corner with your hands on your heads. Baked cheesecake is the best and this one was exemplary. A soft curdy slab that melted in the mouth and tasted of the dairy, a hint of lemon and just the occasional burst of a sultana here and there. A cherry vodka coulis added a sophisticated note, one that was lost in the only down-point of my entire meal. It’s cruel to gripe when one has been treated so well and so generously, but the presentation of this one dish was naff, real 70s stuff with a strawberry and a circumcised physallis dusted with icing sugar. It just did not need it. And I said so. Well, I was a guinea pig and there was nothing else I felt I could comment on, the rest of the meal had been epic.

Polish with polish, a great meal and a bargain price too at £25 including a generous selection of premium vodka shots. I hope that they put more Polish dishes on the menu very soon.

The Tin Drum, 95–97 Dyke Road, Brighton. Call 01273 777575 or see www.tindrum.co.uk for more information.

Andrew Kay finds his expectations crushed at the Royal Oak in Poynings

Being something of a roving reporter on Latest Homes, I quite often find myself at lunchtime in the Sussex countryside. It’s a hazard of the job that can be quite expensive – you find yourself, at noon, in a small village and a cheap bite to eat is often an impossibility.

Last week, I was in such a position. My diary dictated that I was in Piddinghoe at 10am and Steyning at 3pm. That placed me in Poynings at 1.30pm. Now, I dearly wanted to press on to Goldings Barn but for some reason I thought I might be too late for food. I also thought that if I went somewhere new, I might get a review out of it too. Which is why I also missed The Shepherd And Dog at Fulking and Tottington Manor, all of which I have reviewed, some quite recently.

That was how I ended up in the Royal Oak. I turned into the car park and was amazed to find it so full on a Monday lunchtime. Inside, it looked lovely and smelled good too. How brilliant the smoking ban has been for pub dining.

“I chose the two cheapest dishes, part out of economy and part because I wasn’t that hungry”

I went to the bar and ordered a glass of cider. I like cider in the autumn, it feels right. There were two menus – a printed one and one on a blackboard. My immediate reaction was: ‘pricey’. Starters started at £5, mains at £9 but mainly they were between £14 and £16. Given that this was going to have to be at least two courses if I was to make a decent fist of a review, it was also going to be something of an expensive lunch for a meal that I had not planned.

In the end, I chose the two cheapest dishes, in part out of a sense of economy and in part because I wasn’t really that hungry. There were sandwiches, but I don’t review sandwiches if I can help it, or snacks come to that. I just want to make it clear that you can eat for less at the Royal Oak than I did.

So, what did I have? Well, the soup. Now funnily enough, the day before – in chatting with a chef – I expressed my horror at being sold packet or tinned soup in restaurants as home-made. Home-made as in ‘I opened it and stirred it’ I guess. He said that it was a useful and economical option in many kitchens and I disagreed. At the Royal Oak it was most definitely home-made: red onion, sweet potato and tomato served with nice ciabatta and cold butter. Sounds good eh? And I really wanted it to be, but to be honest it was dull. There was no flavour of sweet potato for a start, none at all and I suppose it might have been there to add texture, but then a King Edward would do that and cost less. It was just a fresh tomato soup that lacked ‘oomph’.

My next course sounded just the job for a Monday lunch, the sort of thing I make with leftovers from Sunday cooking, so I happily chose cold roast gammon with fried eggs and bubble and squeak. “Plain cooking,” I thought. “Let’s see how they get on with this.” Imagine my horror when this most basic of dishes came piled high in some ridiculous cheffy tower. I was not amused. I began to dissemble it, but of course the eggs broke, a real waste of two very good eggs, now all over the plate and setting fast on the cold gammon. By the time I got to taste it, I realised it was not only the gammon that was cold but also the bubble and squeak. That too was setting the egg yolks. I could have plodded on but I thought: “No, for nine quid they can get it right”. So, I sent it back.

They dealt with my complaint in an okay manner – polite and efficient but not, I thought, really that bothered that I was unhappy. It came out again five minutes later and I will say it was piping hot and clearly had been remade in its entirety. I asked for some French mustard but it was that vile low-grade dark brown stuff with a glossy high-sugar look. The eggs were superb though: really, really good. The gammon was wetter than I like it and icy cold, a disaster as a layer between hot potato and hot eggs where it sat.

The bubble was poor, all mash and no cabbage (or very little) and although now hot, it did not have that essential ‘fried in a hot pan’ taste or feel to it – you know what I mean, the salty crispy bits that accrue as you turn and move it around the pan. I didn’t bother to finish it.

The bill came to over £17 – which makes me weep – and it certainly doesn’t make me want to return. Such a shame – so pretty a pub, so lovely a location, but either I was very unlucky or the crowd that were dining simply don’t give a damn how much they pay and what it’s like. Next time I will head on to Goldings Barn, just a few miles away and far better value.

Royal Oak, The Street, Poynings. Call 01273 857389 or see www.royaloakpoynings.biz/ for more information.

Andrew Kay on Fratelli, the latest offering from D Productions

The Addis dynasty is proof that family businesses can work. Masterminded by the delightful Sue Addis and all her children in different roles, their fleet of eateries is a shining example.

Why then did they take on a new site in a notorious restaurant accident spot in Brighton Square? For years, people have struggled to make it work and failed. The last time it had any kind of success it was a Tex-Mex geared to a very young audience. It was so long ago, I qualified. Now, D Productions have taken it on and re-opened it as Fratelli. I went along with a friend on a Monday night, notoriously quiet in the restaurant business.

The look is clean and modern – not cutting edge, thank heavens – and spacious too. I went with a friend, Mr H, who liked the fact that no-one was close enough to listen in to our conversation, not that we were saying anything salacious, but we might have been.

Mikele Addis popped in to say hello so I took the opportunity of asking him what to have. “Mozzarella and tomato salad and the roast fillet of beef.” There was no hesitation. When the menus arrived – pretty little things like CD covers – I sought the dishes out and ordered them. Mr H is a fish-eating vegetarian, so Italian menus are pretty easy as there are usually lots of great dishes which, while the Italians have not created them for vegetarians, simply do not contain meat.

I chose a bottle of Orvieto Secco – a little more expensive than the house wine but worth every penny – and we ordered. Pretty soon, I had a plate covered in fine slices of really good deep red tomato with a whole buffalo mozzarella simply split in two at the centre. How I love good mozzarella – and how I hate bad. You know the bad stuff – it’s hard and stringy and chewy and bland. If the British made a cheese that tasted as bad as poor mozzarella we would be ridiculed for it. I have to say, the same can apply to so many continental cheeses – bland, bland and bland.

This, however, was a ball of joyously soft and full-flavoured cheese. It was simply delicious and I savoured every tasty morsel. Mr H unfortunately chose a dish that he could not eat. Having spotted mushroom risotto he read no further. I reckon it’s an understandable mistake and so did the waiter. For veggies, spotting a dish that starts with a vegetable ingredient usually indicates that it will be meat-free. This risotto was mushroom with Italian sausage, the sausage coming at the end of the description. Sadly it went back even though I was trying to reach across for a quick taste as it was gracefully taken away.

At this point, I can mention that – as ever – the quality of service is of the standard that over the years I have come to expect from an Addis restaurant. While they never even get close to being expensive, the service is always enthusiastic, friendly and polite. Fratelli is the same and despite it being our mistake, they happily returned with a dish of four cheese ravioli. Now, I have tasted these before and know that they are hand-made by a cousin of the family. Mr H was more than happy and ate them slowly as if savouring each bite. The pasta parcels were also very lightly sauced and not swimming in gloop – rather restrained.

I moved on to the beef. This is the concept here – the family is half- English, half-Italian so they came up with the idea of a sort of Iti-Brit fusion. I was having the roast.

It came with roast potatoes too, but I was not hungry enough for carbs so I cheekily asked for sautéed spinach instead. What arrived was a plate on which lay a fan of thick slices of perfect rare fillet steak, and a pool of rich sauce. The spinach came separately. Simplicity, when pulled off like this, is great. I thoroughly enjoyed the entire plate of food. It wasn’t trying to show off or to dazzle with tricks and fol-de-rols, this was simply roast beef fillet and a fine sauce. If I gave marks it would be a ten-out-of-ten dish, but I don’t. Oh damn, I did. Well, don’t expect that kind of thing often.

Mr H went for a king prawn skewer with lime and chilli on a bed of rocket. It looked very pretty, again because it was not messed with. He delicately removed their tails and ate them one by one. It was a good portion too, and I noticed that the prawns had been fully cleaned and the intestinal tract removed. I know it sounds vile but there are still places that don’t bother to do this to prawns.

Mr H also decided that he would need some carbs so we put in a late request for some chips and these arrived pretty damned quick. I was really too full for pudding, but then I spotted that they did pancakes with lemon and sugar. Well, there is one thing I can never resist and that’s plain and simple Shrove Tuesday-style pancakes. I like them in other ways too, but gritty sugar, sharp fresh lemon and velvety pancakes – well it doesn’t come much better. And they were perfect, lacy affairs, it was all I could do to not go and check if my mum was out in the kitchen tossing for them.

Mr H had a chocolate truffle torte served with orange sorbet, which he insists that I made him choose. Not true, I did agree that it sounded like a good idea, and it was – absolutely delicious – but like the chips, I did not make him eat them. I did help with the chips, but just the one. I think he was surprised that for someone so chubby I can be so restrained.

Coffees ordered, I nipped off to check out the facilities. As I get older the state of the lavs becomes far more important to me. Again, top marks, in fact the whole place is absolutely spotless.

Coffee, espresso served with bitter amaretti biscuits, was top notch. But at what price – is the Donatello offspring that really does have the tone of fine dining an expensive option? Well no, it’s hardly any different from the mothership and in some cases I think even cheaper.

By the time we left, it was still attracting custom. Hardly surprising as the place looks so good, costs so little and has what I can only describe as a thoroughbred pedigree.

Fratelli, 20 Brighton Square, Brighton 01273 730355