The Warehouse Cafe, Allison Street, Digbeth, www.thewarehousecafe.com. Tel 0121 633 0261
This reputable little venue in industrial Digbeth comes with a rack of recommendations.
It has appeared in the Guardian’s 50 best cheap eats and the Independent’s top 10 budget eats in Brum, and received praise from top travel writer Simon Calder.
A loyal following also sees it sitting safely within Birmingham’s top ten best ranking restaurants on Tripadvisor.
So, arriving with high hopes, my heart sinks on entering a room with all the warmth of a wet lettuce.
The Warehouse Cafe is off the beaten track, housed upstairs in the headquarters of Birmingham’s Friends of the Earth group.
The room is sparsely decorated with basic wooden furniture, a bar along one wall, a window box of herbs and a couple of sofas in the corner with wallpaper adorned with asparagus spears.
It all feels rather “Bristol”, which is appropriate as I’m meeting my Bristolian vegan friend who has been fretting that this vegetarian restaurant won’t be dairy-free enough for his needs.
The menu is, however, supremely vegan-friendly with far more vegan or vegan-option dishes than not.
My pal is late (scouring the streets of Digbeth for a bottle of wine as this place is unlicensed with a BYO policy), so after swapping my seat for one without a wonky leg I bide my time with a strawberry and black pepper cuffufle cordial (£2.20) and a bowl of olives (£2.95).
He’s worth the wait, arriving armed with a bottle of prosecco and informing me he is well aware that wine contains fish bladders but decided long ago that this would be one dietary area where he would exercise a liberal amount of discretion.
I’ll drink to that.
He pops the cork in what feels like a deathly quiet and sober restaurant (to be fair, it is a Tuesday night), before whispering “do you think the other diners have branded us sinners?”
With four months to catch up on, our chins are still wagging when the waitress comes to take our order so we ask for a few more minutes.
Unfortunately, she and we are not in tune and she gives us a minute before returning so we have to ask for more time, and when she quickly arrives back again as we’re still intently studying the menu with heads down and furrowed brows I suggest I’ll give her a thumbs-up as soon as we’re set.
Usually he’d order the falafel to start but having eaten falafel for four days running he’s craving something new so goes for the corn fritters (£3.95).
Spotting mention of Tom Baker’s bread (as well as the welcome warning “contains alcohol”) I opt for the temptingly titled Red and Blue (£5.50), a port and stilton pate with pear shavings.
I spend a couple of minutes trying to catch the waitress’ eye before awkwardly waving my thumbs in the air like a lunatic and feeling a little put out as we’re one of only three couples on her radar tonight.
Orders successfully made, both dishes arrive presented beautifully on chunky wooden boards – and my pate is a runaway success.
Resembling a scoop of grey ice cream, it’s rich, full flavoured, sweet yet mature, and perfectly married with red and green salad leaves, thinly sliced pear and a delicate wholegrain mustard dressing.
With a mouthful of brilliantly bold blue cheese and port flavours I defy even the most hardened carnivore to miss the presence of meat.
My dinner date makes light work of the fritters, which are a beautiful golden brown and pleasingly citrusy, with a hot chilli dipping sauce.
For main I plump for the Digbeth Daal from the specials board. When in Rome...
The daal, made, I think, with black gram and spinach, has a good consistency but feels too much like a side dish – and it’s hard to think of a worse accusation to level at a main course in a vegetarian restaurant.
As a side dish it’s a winner – a little heavy on spinach, and a little light on the central dollop of chilli mix which gives the dish most of its flavour, but the accompanying roti speckled red, green and brown tastes as good as it looks, with just the right amount of oil.
My seasoned vegan friend went for the “Sosages and mash” (£8.50), wanting to test what he calls the restaurant’s “bridge dish”, designed to appeal to meat eaters who are accompanying veggies.
He’s as happy as a pork-free pig in tofu, saying the Sosages (hand made on the premises) are safely among the top 20 per cent he’s ever tried (not quite making into the top ten), and over 25 years he’s sampled a lot of Sosages.
There’s no fake-meat flavour and they’re nicely spiced.
I’ve given up less than half way through my daal and he mops his plate clean with the remainder of my roti while I gun for a consolation prize on the pudding list.
Staying loyally local I go for the Digbeth Mess, a gluten-free and vegan trifle of seasonal fruit, biscuit and custard (£3.95), while my friend provocatively plumps for the Kreissler pudding (£3.95) after I’ve asked who in their right mind would choose a pud described as “sugar free bitter raw food mousse”.
Amazingly, he wins again.
After an initial gasp of surprise at its sharp and spicy summer fruit topping he digs down for the mousse which, while it doesn’t look like my egg-white laden version, is rich and “creamy” and, he exclaims, a “hidden joy”.
I, on the other hand am left with a beautifully presented glass of what might pass as a half-healthy breakfast in my house but definitely doesn’t make the grade as a pudding.
There’s a pleasant cinnamon hint and a couple of temptingly tart rhubarb chunks, but beyond that there’s just a dearth of flavour that leaves me craving an extra dash or sprinkle of something, anything.
As my friend gives the trifle a try I suggest the “oaty granola bits” have no place in a dessert. He informs me these are “biscuit”.
Not in my world.
So my dinner date has hit a hat-trick while I’ve scored a disappointing one out of three.
I’d like to finish by saying how the great service and warm atmosphere made up for my disappointing dinner, but I can’t.
We and the waitress were frustratingly out of sync all night long.
My plate was cleared while my friend was still eating, and after over-eagerly asking for our orders she then became elusive when we wanted to pay the bill, leaving me to awkwardly wave my cash card across the room, despite ours being the only table left.
And having finally paid up, and finishing off the last of our drinks, at 9.55pm we were told the restaurant was now closed.
It pains me that I can’t fully sing the praises of the Warehouse Cafe. In the kingdom of meat-and-two-veg its a joy to see a place swimming against the tide, especially when it’s a not-for-profit community interest company.
But just because it’s veggie, why must it necessarily follow that it feels frugal?
And just because it’s branded a “cafe”, why can’t it make the transition to evening restaurant, with a warmth and quality of service to rival others?
I hope the Warehouse might be inspired by its neighbour, Polish restaurant The Karczma, where there are no airs and graces but bags of personality and charm, and hospitality that leaves you feeling positively spoilt.
Pulling on our coats, we left, the sorry unlit candle on our table looking as despondent as I felt.
Food: 6/10
Service: 4/10
Atmosphere: 4/10
