Food review: Henry Tudor House, Shrewsbury

Friday night. Busy times. But not so busy that staff shouldn’t pause a while to make their guests feel welcome; a truism that the front of house staff at Henry Tudor House have yet to learn.

We’d stopped off for dinner at Henry Tudor House, one of Shrewsbury’s oldest and most historic half-timbered buildings. It was converted in the early part of this decade by successful business couple Graham and Clare Jenkins, who invested heavily. They gave it a beautiful zinc bar bathed in ever changing colours and added a conservatory with elegant chandeliers, framed by stunning iron birdcages. An oak framed restaurant, cool paintings of David Bowie, George Michael and other rock stars and delightful curved seating made it one of the county’s more impressive eating houses.

After a stuttering start with chefs who didn’t live up to big reputations, they appointed Chris Conde as head chef; a cook with big ambition and high levels of skill. The menu was tailored to please everyman (and woman, and child), with robust flavours on dishes that both showcased his skills and satisfied customers.

Their website outlines a sensible USP: “We believe wholeheartedly in engaging with nature, cherishing the rich and varied bounty that each season brings. We aim to blend three ingredients – guests, produce and ambiance – and make them shine. And if there’s something you’d like to see on our menu, let us know – we love a challenge.”

It’s ironic that ambience is the word that’s misspelled because that’s the ingredient that was missing when we visited.

The food was good, the venue lovely and the other guests decidedly lively. Service was the ingredient that left us underwhelmed.

A good front of house team is the one ingredient that can transform an evening. If the chef sends out indifferent food, a good waiting team can still ensure guests have a memorable experience. They are the unsung heroes whose skills – or lack of them – can make or break an evening out. On this occasion they under-performed. And so while Chris’s food was good, with only one notable error, the evening still felt somehow lacklustre. The plonking of unwanted bottles, failure to take drinks orders, dropping of cutlery and disengaged approach overshadowed what ought to have been a pleasant evening of decent food in convivial surrounds.

The work that Henry Tudor House’s owners have done ought not to be overlooked. Running restaurants is gruelling. Competition is fierce, good staff are hard to find, equipment is seriously expensive and customers are hard to please. In Shrewsbury, there is an abundance of good quality independent restaurants along with a number of half-decent mid-range chains. If a restaurant doesn’t get it right, it’s easy to simply pop to the next venue in town to give that a whirl. And so the Jenkins deserve all credit for making their venue stand-out, for employing and keeping a decent chef and for overseeing a delightful transformation with stunning interior design.

Their restaurant-bar appeals to a wide cross section. An impressive top floor gig venue hosts comedy and some of the coolest Americana, roots and more. From the brilliant Sam Brookes to Kiki Dee and an ever-changing line-up of stand-ups, it’s got everything going for it.

We called in for a Friday evening supper, arriving just before the customary rush to enjoy three courses of Chris’s finest.

My partner started with a leek and potato soup that had body and depth and was seasoned with considerable skill. My ox cheek and oxtail lasagne was the evening’s stand-out dish. Comprising unctuous ox check and oxtail ragout sandwiched between celeriac, it was a dish of great imagination and considerable skill. Notes of Parmesan added strong, salty flavour and it was gone before I could say ‘delicious’.

Our mains were decent too. One of Henry Tudor House’s smartest moves is combining an impressive a la carte, fine dining menu with a slew of all-day classics. In doing so, the venue’s owners give Chris his head to be creative and dazzle discerning foodies while also appealing to a more conservative crowd who are happy with Wenlock Edge bangers and mash, truffled macaroni cheese or a 28-day Shropshire steak – that’s more than £10 cheaper than some of the head-in-the-clouds competitors.

On this occasion, we mixed and matched with my partner choosing a salad of smoked salmon and prawns with a bloody Mary dressing and watercress as her main. A posh prawn cocktail by any other name, it was delightfully light and flavoursome. My cornfed chicken was pretty good, though the breast was a little overcooked. Two minutes less and it would have been perfectly tender and moist. The accompanying beans were good and the portion size spot on.

The sensible proportions of our first two courses meant we had room for dessert and we ordered something sweet. My partner had a bowl of ice cream – though the waitress forgot to let her know what was available and so, comically, had to return with a list long after she might have been delivering the dish. They were fine. My white chocolate and condensed milk rice pudding was majestic – almost the equal of the opening lasagne. The rice was ever-so-slightly al dente, so that it still had a little bite. It was absurdly calorific and indulgent, as decent rice puddings ought to be, with a winning garnish of honeycomb.

With so many enjoyable dishes and with sensible prices – our dinner was £52 – Henry Tudor House might expect to score an impressive four or four and a half. And yet service was so underwhelming that marks were lost.

When we arrived, water was unceremoniously plonked on the table – though we’d neither requested nor desired it. It was quickly removed. A request for sparkling water was mistaken for a request for sparkling wine. Cutlery was dropped on the floor and a waitress was rushed, disengaged and distracted; forgetting to take a drinks order, not bothering to go through the ice creams and so on. It took the shine off what should have been a thoroughly enjoyable evening. And though Henry Tudor House offered a better-than-average dining experience, an underwhelming front of house made the experience less than the sum of its parts.