Dining out at...The Marksman

It is fair to say that the words 'Hackney', 'food' and 'craft beer' will make some swoon and others...well...sick. But this pub is everything that a modern London boozer should be - and an extremely refreshing antidote to the widely-held belief gentrification is a bad thing for traditional pubs.

Why? Because as soon as you walk through the door, you sense this isn't a typical Hackney hipster pub. Instead, you are greeted by that oddest of things - old school locals, who are drinking not obscure bottled IPAs, but Guinness and continental lagers, which some hipsters may forget is still the nation's favourite beer. And yet the creative industry types are also there - downing the excellent Redchurch Brewery's Bethnal Pale Ale. A full collection of Meantime taps - including Yakima Red and Pale Ale - and some bottled wild and fruity beers are also being served, alongside a good stocking of red and white wines. This is drinks harmony in action.

In fact, the pub is so low key in its foodie credentials that you are tempted to think you have entered the wrong establishment. When I arrived at 530pm there were no tables set and no sign of a menu. It was only when I approached a member of staff that I was presented with two slips of paper and led to a table, where a knife and fork and a tiny beaker for water was promtly set up.

My dining companion - a civil servant who will go by the name Mr Tucker - was equally impressed by the pub's traditional...well...pub atmosphere and furnishings.

All the wood panels and etched glass have remained. The leather booths and dark wooden tables and chairs are perfect and have enough of a distressed element to fit into the overall look. There is even a footswitch for the release of water into the basin in the Gent's. 'Not one of those for exposed brickwork, neon lights and concrete, eh?', Mr Tucker said. For once the history of a pub was being kept against the desire to strip out and move towards a generic Brooklyn-style bar.

This definitely put us both in good spirits prior to the selection of the food, which considering the chefs - and the reviews in the national papers - should be special. The pub was set up by two chefs that had worked at Fergus Henderson's St John eatery - Tom Harris and Jon Rotheram​.

We decided to 'go Rayner' - i.e. to eat as similar a menu to Jay Rayner's amazingly positive review in the Guardian​ a few weeks ago. He had gone as far as to claim the fried potatoes and burnt onion mayonnaise 'could be the saviour of the public house'. 

Sadly the fryer was out of action - so instead we ordered the Cornish New Potatoes and Lovage. We asked for a side of the burnt onion mayonnaise anyway. For starters, or 'small dish', depending on your appetite and gourmand status, we went for the beer and barley bun with Horseradish cream. Other choices include a superb looking devilled crab on toast, grilled clams with wild fennel and a smoked shoulder of ham with beer mustard and pickles.

The horseradish cream is light and the doughy, rich meaty stodginess of the beef and barley bun is everything you could hope for. Proper pub grub.

For mains I chose the curried rabbit with a sourdough roti and tomato chutney and Mr Tucker chose a roast Tamworth with Hispi cabbage and mustard. Other choices for main include Megrim sole and pickled cucumber with broad beans, and grilled galloway rump with chicory and anchovy. Alongside the new potatoes we also had salad leaves with an elderflower and buttermilk dressing.

The curried rabbit is superb. Eating on a boiling hot day makes you concerned about heat in both senses of the word, but the depth of flavour of both of the meat and the roti is magnificent. Subtle and powerful. The new potatoes and lovage is equally a revelation and the watery, light salad leaves - fresh as the dew on a country meadow.

Indeed, the additional burnt onion mayonnaise, although missing the crispy loveliness of fried potatoes, gave an insight into Rayner's thinking. It is so deep in flavour and rolled around your mouth like a neverendingly hoppy IPA. 

Surprisingly, myself and Tucker aren't full from the starter and mains, which is testament as much to the perfect sizing and weight of the portions than to our guts. This is great news, as it offered the opportunity to consume a tart which Rayner said had the 'wobble and softness of a newborn's thigh'. Well, I won't go for such oddities, but it is a delightfully sweet and buttery end to a meal. All you want from a pub menu's dessert - indulgence and sinfulness.

Tucker went for the cheese - Tunworth, Hay on Wye, Quince Jam and Rye Cracker. It looks good - especially when he washes it down with a glass of the house's pinot.

All in all, this is an exciting addition to London's bloated gastropub scene - because it isn't really a gastropub in the sense we are used to. As Rayner said, it truly is 'pared back' by which he really means, politely, so as to not offend his usual audience, unmolested by white cloths and the worst excesses of the fine dining crowd in pub environments, i.e. snobby sommeliers and waiters, a lack of music, total table reservations - basically a total abandonment of the idea of it being a pub rather than a restaurant. 

The Marksman is still in its early days. The owners want to create an upstairs dining room and charcuterie shop in the basement. I hope this doesn't mean it abandons what it has already set up, which some could argue is actually the perfect urban pub serving new locals, old locals, and the wider foodie crowd.

If you are a licensee interested in how to mix urban hip with urban history in a traditional pub setting, this venue may well have just set the benchmark.