I decided to follow my brother’s semi-reliable advice and pay a visit to The Orchard in Brockley, an independently-run restaurant that has been a favourite with locals since opening its doors in 2009.

Having endured a London Bridge-induced haemorrhage en route to my destination, I needed The Orchard to live up to the “pretty good” label that my brother had bestowed upon it.

As much as I was hoping to take in the glorious sites of Brockley in the pouring rain, I was immediately grateful to The Orchard for being located just a stone’s throw away from the station. Its expansive, warmly-lit windows were a welcome site to my bleary commuter eyes. The restaurant has a pleasantly residential vibe; there is nothing particularly ‘Londony’ about it. Its cosily-lit wood-panelled interiors, fish tank and “help yourself” bookshelves (which usually seem disingenuous to me, but here made sense) all contributed to a decidedly homely, family-friendly feel. I was glad the restaurant had chosen to embrace its suburban status, rather than trying to carve out some kind of weird niche for itself in order to entice people south of the river.

Drinks

After a long day of internalising my office woes and a premature quarter-life crisis, I turned to drink. Luckily, my number one gal pal was on hand to make this look acceptable.

Succumbing to some light-hearted peer pressure (“Do it for the review Becca!”), my buddy bravely ordered the Passion Fruit & Chilli Martini (£7.95), a mix of vodka, passion fruit, peach and tabasco. As well as being a really effective way of dissolving your stomach lining, it added a zany challenge dynamic to our dinner: how long can I maintain the illusion that my throat isn’t slowly closing up? In all seriousness, I am a big wuss when it comes to chilli, after accidentally rubbing a Dorset Naga in my eyes one time, but the bit I sampled was a pretty nice blend of sugar and spice.

Keeping it seasonal, I opted for the Blood Orange Margarita (£8.25), which was a perfect mix of salty fruity alcoholic goodness.

Starters

After spending a good 15 minutes Googling ingredients, we managed to pin down our orders. To kick things off, I started with the poached egg in Japanese bread crumbs with crispy baby leeks, cauliflower puree and toasted almonds (£6.75). To me, this didn’t seem like an insane combination of flavours on paper, but once plated-up it became pretty incomprehensible.

The poached egg was perfect, although the Japanese aspect wasn’t clear to me. The leeks were “crispy” in the sense that they were charred to within an inch of their life; the flavour went beyond smoky to being more or less 100% carbon. The cauliflower puree was nice, but this was disrupted by some blisteringly vinegary florets which were, for some reason, dotted around the plate. A small pile of flaked almonds rested on the side as an afterthought to a culinary logic which I couldn’t begin to understand. One other unfortunate aspect to mention is that it did look as though a bird had firebombed its way onto my plate, and collided with some pastry mid-descent. In retrospect, I do actually think this combo could have worked well, if it had been simplified.

My dining partner opted for the ginger glazed organic salmon, with confit lemon puree, brown shrimp dressing and sourdough toast (£7.80). We both agreed that the salmon was on point, and was safely complemented by the combination of ginger and lemon.

Mains

With my palate confused, I moved on to the main event: Sardinian shellfish, red mullet and monk fish stew, with fregola, tomato, wild sea beet and samphire (£18). I had been expecting a traditionally messy looking fish stew, but what arrived was something far more demure, yet unpretentious. The fish was beautifully tender, and this time there were no distracting flavours to ruin the effect. The sweet and acidic notes of the vegetables were a welcome contrast to the relative richness of the seafood. Although ultimately a little too salty, this dish was a definite highlight.

My dining companion went for a the decidedly less-delicate chargrilled bavette steak with fries, watercress and béarnaise sauce (£16.80). Although looking a bit rough in terms of presentation, there were no objections in terms of taste.

Dessert

Like a pair of true culinary troopers, we headed once more unto the breach and ordered ourselves some quite unnecessary desserts. After deliberating the impressive range of options, I decided on a dark chocolate brownie with salted caramel ice-cream (£6).

Unfortunately, this proved to be another let down. There was nothing whatsoever dark about the brownie; to be honest it tasted like the chef had just legged it to Tesco Express and brought back some kind of microwavable chocolate cake. The ice-cream was an okay mix of sweet ‘n’ salty, but it pretty much just tasted of sugar. I got no sense of any caramel, and it certainly didn’t have an “artisan” feel, as boasted by the menu. The random berry coulis on the side did little to improve matters. As there was no tartness to it, there was nothing to stop the plate from becoming a forgettable, sugary blur.

On the other side of the table, we sampled the crème brulee (£5.50). By contrast to the brownie, this was everything that it should have been: light and white with an impressively thick cassonade crust. Not bad at all.

Conclusion

The Orchard was a thoroughly mixed bag; an overwhelming starter and underwhelming dessert served as disappointing bookends to my Brockley dining experience. However, there were definite standout dishes, which generally had one thing in common: they offered simple updates to established classics, rather than being ambitious to the point of ridiculousness.

I think there is a definite pressure on independent, suburban eateries like The Orchard to emphasise some point of difference in their menu/ethos/environment; to brand themselves as an “authentic” alternative to mainstream, city-centre dining. This is a necessary pressure in many ways, but more often than not it tends to produce something desperate or faddy. That said, I don’t think The Orchard quite fell into this trap. The slightly wild menu options seemed indicative of a genuine attempt to produce something exciting for the customers, rather than someone just throwing together fashionable ingredients for the sake of it. This sense of adventure was not at all misplaced, but just required a bit of fine tuning.

Still hungry? Find all the most delicious places to eat with our best London restaurants section, including this review of Antico, Bermondsey.