We live in dark times, replete with disaster; literary, moral, political, computer-games-selleral. Naturally the only thing to do is fiddle and stuff oneself with food while Rome burns. In that spirit, a lightweight review for Ferret Food. Enjoy...

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'The Black Prince'

2 Manor Road
Woodstock
Oxfordshire
OX20 1XJ

My meal:

2x large glasses of merlot
1x Thai fishcakes with chilli dipping sauce
1x roast duck with summer berry sauce on a rosti base
1x cheesecake

A little pub in historic Woodstock, The Black Prince was chosen randomly by my girlfriend as a place to go celebrate the first summer evening worthy of the name. It's a cozy little place, fairly easy to find, and close to Blenheim Palace, for those thinking of combining their eating with some culture.

Here's that marking scheme again:

30 points for food
30 points for ambiance
20 points for service
10 points for price
10 points for drinks

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There's a certain breed of pub springing up at the moment, which I'm not entirely sure I like. It's the kind of pub that's always been nice - nice old building, pleasant rural setting, slightly eccentric owners. These places have always been somewhat elevated from such sordid grubbiness as profit-making or business plans. That's why I'm saddened by this new type of pub - the wanna-be gastro-pub. WaBGaPs abandon traditional pub fare for exciting modern fusion cuisine. They get rid of their slightly uncomfortable seats and replace them with minimalist leather monstrosities. They get rid of roaring log fires, and replace them with patio heaters. Sometimes, this works. Sometimes, it doesn't.

To bring things back to the Black Prince, this is one of the times it doesn't, at least where the food is concerned. My fishcakes were... standard. I've made equally nice ones at home, although these certainly weren't offensive. They did make a dire fishcake error though - they served them too hot and fresh. Now, fresh, hot food is normally good, but fishcakes get really, really hot. My first mouthful burned the roof of my mouth, and messed with my enjoyment of the rest of the meal. All they needed to do was leave them out for five minutes, and it'd have been great. Not a bid deal, but it bugs me.

The main course is a prime example of 'trying-to-be-a-posh-restaurant-and-failing'. Roast duck should be simple, moist, fatty, and it should ride on the rich, incomparable taste of duck. The duck I got at the Black Prince was drowned in a sauce I'd expect to find on a summer pudding, not a main course. I could barely taste the duck at all, and what of it I could taste suggested it was dry and slightly over-done. A damn shame. Pudding to some extent made up for the errors of the earlier courses. A simple and delicious cheesecake that rounded of the meal in fine form, and also managed to save the Black Prince from getting less half marks for food...

Food: 16/30

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If food was a let-down, ambience at the Black Prince really wasn't. The interior is a fine Georgian building with oak beams, the bar decorated with suits of plate armour. The enormous garden is beautiful, nicely laid out, and sits next to a lovely burbling stream that runs away under a nearby bridge towards Blenheim palace. On a summer night, this was one of the nicest pubs to sit in I've been to for a long time. I do wonder if it wouldn't be a little cramped if rain or cold forced the customers inside though.

Ambience: 25/30

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There's an old family friend of mine who maintains that he can't bring himself to really love a pub unless it's run by a raging madman, whose madness in some way lends the pub charm. He'd like the Black Prince. I'm exaggerating a little of course. All the staff were perfectly polite and pleasant to me, even the poor barman who was working his first evening there, and looked a little like he'd just be thrown into a pit of rabid kangaroos and told to box them for the entertainment of the crowd. What let the staff at the Black Prince down was their behavior towards each other. The Black Prince looks to be a husband and wife affair, which is not a problem provided husband and wife can deal with pressure without taking it out on each other. The couple working the evening I was there couldn't - snide remarks and snarls were delivered even while one or the other was serving me at the bar. That's just creepy, and it spoils my enjoyment of a pub to fear a domestic is about to kick off mid-way through the pouring of my pint.

The relations of husband and wife paled in comparison to the behaviour of the cook though, who would bound out of the kitchen, wreathed in smoke, to scream about the temperature, and why hadn't the barman got him a fucking drink yet. I also had the misfortune to be seated on a table near some of this chef's friends, so I could here him whining on his brief breaks. Now, the place was busy (probably because it was sunny for once), so the pressure was no doubt on... but it's pretty unprofessional to let it show in front of the customers. I think I've been generous with this mark. I'm feeling forgiving because they were nice to me, and because hey, they were busy. Still, if the pub hadn't been generally good, the score might have dropped.

Service: 11/20

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The problem with pretensions of gastro-pubbery is that prices go up in line with the owner's sense of their own magnificence. The Black Prince is expensive for what it wants to be, and a rip-off for what it is.

Price: 4/10

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Decent wines, a nice selection of spirits, a beers on tap, nothing much to complain about. Could have done with a bigger wine-list and some fun local ales though.

Drinks: 6/10

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If it's sunny, you feel like a relaxed drink by a river, and you don't mind traveling to Woodstock, the Black Prince is for you. There are just a few niggling let downs... which is a shame, because the Black Prince has the potential to be truly great.


Total: 62%