An evening of cooking at the newly expanded Pony

The warm late afternoon sun streams through the windows of the newly expanded Pony, hitting a table around which three people are sipping coffee. They’re waiting to start their cooking class with one of Bristol’s best chefs.

In the next room is a vast dining hall with floor to ceiling windows offering profound views of the Chew Valley; a garden and fields basking in the receding light. The views are continued upstairs in the demo kitchen, which is where some of this evening’s cooking class will take place.

There are many things vying for your attention at The Pony, not least the excellent views

Coats are discarded and aprons tied. Josh Eggleton introduces himself and begins by removing a chicken from the fridge.

“This class is about what you have in the pantry; oils, vinegars, mustards.”

It’s his third week of running these classes; he’s still not entirely sure what’s what or what’s where in this new space, but it’s charmingly informal and an instantly relaxing environment.

We were given recipe cards to take home, taking the pressure off remembering ingredients and quantities

Josh shows us how to debone a chicken so that nothing goes to waste. It’s part of the ethos of The Pony; everything is used and grown on site where possible. Fresh herbs from the garden are sliced and added to oil, roasted garlic, lemon zest and salt and pepper to make a marinade.

Next up is salad cream, made from scratch. Whisks clatter against the edges of bowls as eggs are whisked with flour, oil and mustard powder over a bain marie. Chatter about produce, restaurants, dreams and ambitions are flung around the room. One man wants to open a jacket potato street food stall.

Once thickened, the base of the cream is transferred to the fridge. We’ll add creme fraiche and lemon later.

For now, we’re making a start on a coleslaw.

“White cabbage is a highly underrated vegetable”.

The coleslaw is all about knife skills, which Josh demonstrates with terrifying accuracy. He stresses the importance of letting vegetables come up to room temperature before eating them in salads, and about seasoning each layer of the coleslaw with salt.

It’s mesmerising to watch Josh cut vegetables, to the point I almost forget to remember what he’s done, and therefore what I should do next. He has a tendency to trial off in his sentences, as though what he’s saying isn’t important or interesting. The reality is quite the opposite.

We’re treated to a couple of dishes from downstairs, as the restaurant is comparatively quiet tonight. Venison carpaccio and cured trout are equally considered, clever dishes. They’re truly a joy to eat. Dishes that don’t shy away from centering and celebrating the unbelievably good produce from which they’re made.

Venison carpaccio, bone marrow broth, smoked ox heart, guindilla chilli, sour cream and beef fat toast

“Nothing should be measured in a salad dressing. I didn’t want these classes to be the type where everything is pre-measured for you. I want you to learn the technique and have the confidence to recreate these recipes yourselves”.

There’s just as strong an emphasis on how Josh cooks at home as there is on what’s made here in the restaurant. Salad dressing is assembled, tasted and tweaked.

I ask Josh what his favourite restaurant is.

“In Bristol or the world?”

“The world.”

“St. John’s in London. I could eat at St. John’s every day.”

Griddle pans smoke on the induction hobs. The chicken, now truly embalmed in its marinade, hits the pan with a fierce crackle.

“Don’t be tempted to move it. We want it to get a proper sear, some colour.”

Purple sprouting tenderstem, also from the garden, has been parboiled and is wedged between the chicken to grill.

Josh has disappeared to finish a potato salad using the same marinade made earlier. Coleslaw is dressed, tongs click and plates fill. Dinner is served and it’s simple, especially in contrast to the grandeur of the private dining room in which we tuck in to eat.

The dining room at The Pony feels like a home away from home

This kind of evening is the reason I love food as much as I do. It brings people together and insists on you being truly present. It requires paying attention with every sense and for a couple of hours nothing exists outside of this classroom. It’s perfect. The resulting dinner wasn’t bad either.

All photos: Meg Houghton-Gilmour

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