Review 6: Left Bank

 

1 atmosphere                            ****

2 the food & drink                     ****½

3 price                                      ***

4 hospitality                              **½

5 reading potential                    ***

6 clientele                                ****

7 location                                  **

8 busy-ness                                ***

9 professionalism                       ****

 

Bam, ba da dam!  That was as close to a transcription of a trumpet blast as I could get.  Left Bank!  Left Bank!  Ring the bells, pull the chains!  Alcatraz … Left Bank! 

 

The Left Bank Village, to use its full name, is one of those places which makes Hereford something of an anomaly.  Said town, in theory, is fairly mediocre – it’s small, it’s on the border with Wales, no one has ever heard of it, it was burnt down by the Danish, for goodness’ sake.  Yet is boasts a few very cool things:

 

v     the Bishop of Hereford was perhaps Robin Hood’s greatest enemy, and in cahoots with Guy of Gisbourne

v     the Mappa Mundi

v     a remarkable Sixth Form College

v     it is hometown to the SAS

v     from what I can gather, it houses one of the best kitchen supplies shops in the Midlands, of all things

v     the Dinosaw Market

v     and the Left Bank Village

 

Left Bank has a special place in my heart.  As an archaeology student at the Sixth Form college when it was being built, I spent 5 summery days in work experience on the site.  Admittedly, I spent most of my time cleaning ancient cattle teeth (here is a ford, to be fair), and gradually succumbing to Stockholm Syndrome towards Radio 1.  But I was there, man. 

 

LB is in fact a small series of small shops, each leading into the next.  It also sports a restaurant, slightly separated from the shops, which looks directly onto the river (in fact, the complex has something of a landing stage), and there are some other bits to it whose purpose I haven’t discovered.  The café makes up one of the shop ‘units’. 

 

In keeping with the entire ‘village’, its image is, ‘ow do you say? … sumptuous.  I am led to believe the enterprise is a Dutch one, and the resident aura is certainly very European; their freshly-baked bread has posh seeds in it, and the shelves are filled with all manner of German chocolates, French wines, and Dutch biscuits, as well as the more trendy English foodstuffs, like Tyrells.  Though I notice they don’t yet have any Treago wine – surely no merchant worth his salt would neglect to sell that ambrosial nectar? 

As such, the café is a smashingly pleasant place to exist in.  The walls are of light colours, the ceiling boasts beams of English oak and cool little lights, plants are to be found everywhere (as are mirrors), and only glass obscures your view onto the street or terrace.  The whole place reminds me of one of those French blue and egg-yolk-gold coffee cups.  And perhaps most importantly, the only things I could smell were bread, cookies, and coffee.  Not smoke.  Or haddock. 

 

The foodstuffs are wundebar, and the service, not surprisingly, is also excellent.  The setup is not a waiting one as such, but your order is brought to you.  The staff are not clinical in their work, and yet remain very professional.  “You’d have to be to work here – they train you for about a month”, says my guest reviewer.  This is this particular reviewer’s 2nd appearance, so I think she deserves a name; I shall call her - Ursula!  Here we are together at last year’s bonfire night:

 

 

Indeed, Ursula’s initial order could not be met, for which the waitress was very apologetic and helpful.  It’s good to see girls of that calibre.  At the same time, though, one doesn’t feel pressure to move on after a while (am I overly sensitive to this factor?  I suppose sitting reading for long periods of time in these places has developed something of a guilt complex), which is an unusual and really rather welcome quality in such a classy joint. 

 

The only criticism I could possibly make would be financial.  But even there, a coffee is not more than £1.20, and it’s obvious such a place is not going to be cheap.  Hmm, and this may be trivial, but it occurred to me: the fact that the café is inextricably and obviously linked with its neighbouring shops prevents that feeling of intimacy which, personally, I think is important to a café.  But to some that feeling of being part of something bigger might appeal. 

 

So, a very good café, in all the important senses.  ****