Table Talk, Middleton St George (From The Northern Echo)

Killy or cure

4:28pm Wednesday 10th August 2011 in Reviews By Mike Amos

THERE’D been a piece in the papers only that morning about beer sales having fallen 15 per cent in the previous three months, 4.5 per cent in pubs. Not even the Rechabbites had results like that.

Can you wonder? So many greedy beggars, from Chancellor to pubco to publican, heading inexorably and inevitably towards a bitter end.

Pubs die by inextricable association, still dozens mourned every week. Among them was the Killinghall at Middleton St George, between Darlington and the airport-by-whatever- name.

Our lot used annually to play dominoes at the Killy. Usually came second. Nothing new there, then.

The premises reopened in February as an Indian restaurant called Table Talk, already properly proud of its five hygiene stars. There’s a Chinese takeaway on one side and a vet’s on the other. The last bit may not strictly be relevant.

Over the road, there’s a pizza place and another pub.

Table Talk promises “sophisticated fine dining”, “effortlessly charming staff”, “tasting the fusion” and “Indian cuisine in all its hues”.

They may have employed a scriptwriter, though the fusion, come to think, may be the chicken and chips at the foot of the menu.

A menu page even promotes an in-house Business Club, said – among countless other virtues – to promote lateral thinking. A side dish, perhaps.

The welcome’s warm, the waiters attentive and impeccably attired. How do they keep their cuffs out of the leftovers? It’s an impressive art.

There is a danger, however – and they really should take note of this – that “effortlessly charming” loses something in the translation and becomes effusive to the point of irritating instead.

At least three different waiters asked if we were from the village, how we’d heard about the place, if we’d come far and (more or less) what we’d had for breakfast.

Such enthusiasm is, of course, wholly preferable to the oft-encountered alternative, but like – say – lamb bhuna, there is a happy medium.

Finally someone offered what amounted to a family tree. It was a bit like the opening verses of one of those Old Testament books where one endlessly begets another, save that they all seemed to be uncles and uncles couldn’t begat for love nor money.

One of the uncles had Café Spice in Clark’s Yard, Darlington. We once had a very jolly night there.

The place is simply and attractively furnished, marble-effect table tops, though the fusion clearly doesn’t extend to the music. Table Talk could never be accused of missing a sitar.

At one point the first three bars of O For a Thousand Tongues could almost be detected, only for the music machine to regress to the Bengal Lancers (or some such sub-continental quadrille).

The menu is typically extensive, accompanied on the side of the table by a large bottle of Cobra (£4.45) and on the other by an equally large bottle of sparkling mineral water that, remarkably, cost 50p more.

Perusal of the beer bottle label indicated some Asian lettering which, apparently, translates as “extra smooth”. Is this wise? Further perusal indicated that while Cobra originates from Bangalore, this is brewed in Burton-on- Trent.

The lady began with fish biran – “gently spiced and shallow fried” – thought it vivid and distinctive, asked what fish it might be.

“A Bangladeshi sweet fish,” said the waiter.

“It’s swum a long way,” said the lady.

“Unfortunately it swam to its death,” said the waiter. So much for the life of biran.

She followed with shatkora gosht, broadly lamb with wild lemon served with pillaw rice.

It was simply, refreshingly different. A seekh kebab starter was minced lamb with herbs and spices, generously proportioned and perfectly OK. I followed with chicken hariali – with fresh garlic, ginger, cream and spinach.

These dishes have both flavour and fragrance.

There may be blurring of tastes, but the impact’s impressive. Puddings, apparently made in Stockton, are inexpensive. A slice of cheesecake with an imagined brulee topping was indifferent, but you know what they say about puddings in Asian restaurants.

Without the drinks, the bill was around £43.

At the end, a very nice touch, they offered a free drink to us and to everyone else.

It was Tuesday evening and maybe another dozen dining; the takeaway side seemed busy.

The average village pub might be quite happy with that kind of midweek footfall. Whether Table Talk will become a true conversation stopper, time alone will tell.

• Table Talk, 3 The Square, Middleton St George, Co Durham, DL2 1EG. Telephone: 01325-333338. Open 5pm-11pm seven days. No problem for the disabled.

ITS timing perfect, Camra this week issued a report claiming that 25 pubs still close every week. It can’t go on, of course: soon there won’t be 25 left to shut.

From the Great British Beer Festival they also issued the winners, runners-up, third, commended and heaven-knows-what in all manner of Champion Beer of Great Britain categories. Not a drop of it was brewed in the North-East.

“New research”, says Camra, reveals that 49 per cent of 18 to 25-year-olds claim they would probably visit the pub more often if traditional games were reintroduced.

In 2006, it adds, 36 per cent of that age group looked in at least once a week. Now it’s down to 25 per cent. “A worrying trend,” says Camra official Colin Valentine.

Camra lists traditional pub games as shove ha’penny, darts, skittles, bar billiards, bar skittles, roll the barrel and shut the box.

For some reason the report fails completely to mention dominoes. Perhaps they’ve heard about us lot at the Killy.

THE main reason they’re putting up the towels, of course, is that the stuff is evermore expensive – so here’s a refreshing note from Ronnie Chambers in Hartlepool. At the Globe, his local, the landlord has just cut the price of Strongarm from £2 to £1.90. Ron asked him why. “I get a good deal on Strongarm, so I thought I’d pass it on to the customers,” he said. As the gentleman observes, you don’t very often hear stories like that.

STILL the micro-breweries come on stream, the latest – and one of the very few headed by a woman – the Tyne Bank Brewery in Newcastle. It was opened last week by the city’s Lord Mayor, Coun Geoff O’Brien.

Owner Julia Austin, 40, took voluntary redundancy as a chemical engineer to pursue her dream. “I believe this will be something very special for the North-East brewing industry,” she said.

…and finally, the bairns wondered if we knew what you call a winkle who’s got protection from the mob.

A gangster’s mollusc, of course.