When pounding the city it’s imperative to get your fuel hole filled or it’s trouble after a few vodkas, resulting in an untimely retreat home, all voiceless and forgettable. To counter an early evening body rebellion, scout-out a good eatery and don the nosebag. Too many burger vans have left me ‘a half cooked meal revisited’, bent double and shaking my fist at the sky. To stop this nonsense acquaint yourself with one of Bristol’s better eateries. My advice if you’re stalking Harbourside, insinuate your body amongst the munchers at The Firehouse Rotisserie.

While waiting for a seat, the chefs can be viewed in action working the open kitchen. It’s comforting to observe the individuals you’ll be risking your health with, the Rotisserie culinary culprits appearing clean and able, making all the right noises, chucking flaming pans of meat around and waving knives professionally. Settling me furthermore, they also wore ‘I promise I won’t poison you’ hats and starchy whites.

I was led to my table and left to scrutinize the place, drink forthcoming. The manager certainly hit the month’s ‘pretty blonde’ employee quota - ‘twas like a front row seat at a production of the Peroxide Waitress Waltz. The Firehouse is a good step up from your basic chop-shop, peppered liberally with the aforementioned staff and complemented by a bright and airy floor space. This offers plenty of room between you and your fellow gastronauts, separating you from chainsaw conversation and elbows to the face. I didn’t even have to roll up a napkin to keep the table from wobbling.

After glancing at the menu, a Californian-cum-Mediterranean mishmash, awash with avocado, goats’ cheese, tomato, chili, crab, chicken and beef, my fellow clientele seemed unconscious of spending the extra sterlings necessary for an early evening hunger plug and a bottle of marked-up wine. Maybe the Waltz was an intention of ‘added value’?

There was only one real option for me, the Tuscan Style Twenty-One Day Aged 10oz Rib Rye of Angus Beef, Wild Rocket, Shaved Parmesan and Lemon Oil dish. Now, I’m a freak when it comes to steak meals - they’re either just how I like them or execrable. Although the price was slightly higher than anticipated, the end product was a marvel – not, quite literally, a bloody mess. We have to remember that The Firehouse Rotisserie is floating in the middle of Bristol’s tourist district, so…money come, money go. Come to that, while the length of stay in your average restaurant is dependant on how much is consumed, there’s no real feeling of being rushed here. You can babble away to your pals quite contentedly while your plates and glasses are stocked, filled shuffled and removed. No fuss and no hard glances as to why you haven’t moved once you’ve gulped your last.

I’d certainly revisit The Firehouse Rotisserie. The remarkably presented meal sustained me through an arduous drinking session, the staff were polite, the bill fair - even the ‘facilities’ were up to scratch. You even get to wipe your hands from a ‘pile’ of paper towels, accordingly, grab as many as you like before binning them. So, next time you’re on the Waterfront, heed my words and eat the place out.

www.firehouserotisserie.co.uk

Paul LeverWhen pounding the city it’s imperative to get your fuel hole filled or it’s trouble after a few vodkas, resulting in an untimely retreat home, all voiceless and forgettable. To counter an early evening body rebellion, scout-out a good eatery and don the nosebag. Too many burger vans have left me ‘a half cooked meal revisited’, bent double and shaking my fist at the sky. To stop this nonsense acquaint yourself with one of Bristol’s better eateries. My advice if you’re stalking Harbourside, insinuate your body amongst the munchers at The Firehouse Rotisserie.

While waiting for a seat, the chefs can be viewed in action working the open kitchen. It’s comforting to observe the individuals you’ll be risking your health with, the Rotisserie culinary culprits appearing clean and able, making all the right noises, chucking flaming pans of meat around and waving knives professionally. Settling me furthermore, they also wore ‘I promise I won’t poison you’ hats and starchy whites.

I was led to my table and left to scrutinize the place, drink forthcoming. The manager certainly hit the month’s ‘pretty blonde’ employee quota - ‘twas like a front row seat at a production of the Peroxide Waitress Waltz. The Firehouse is a good step up from your basic chop-shop, peppered liberally with the aforementioned staff and complemented by a bright and airy floor space. This offers plenty of room between you and your fellow gastronauts, separating you from chainsaw conversation and elbows to the face. I didn’t even have to roll up a napkin to keep the table from wobbling.

After glancing at the menu, a Californian-cum-Mediterranean mishmash, awash with avocado, goats’ cheese, tomato, chili, crab, chicken and beef, my fellow clientele seemed unconscious of spending the extra sterlings necessary for an early evening hunger plug and a bottle of marked-up wine. Maybe the Waltz was an intention of ‘added value’?

There was only one real option for me, the Tuscan Style Twenty-One Day Aged 10oz Rib Rye of Angus Beef, Wild Rocket, Shaved Parmesan and Lemon Oil dish. Now, I’m a freak when it comes to steak meals - they’re either just how I like them or execrable. Although the price was slightly higher than anticipated, the end product was a marvel – not, quite literally, a bloody mess. We have to remember that The Firehouse Rotisserie is floating in the middle of Bristol’s tourist district, so…money come, money go. Come to that, while the length of stay in your average restaurant is dependant on how much is consumed, there’s no real feeling of being rushed here. You can babble away to your pals quite contentedly while your plates and glasses are stocked, filled shuffled and removed. No fuss and no hard glances as to why you haven’t moved once you’ve gulped your last.

I’d certainly revisit The Firehouse Rotisserie. The remarkably presented meal sustained me through an arduous drinking session, the staff were polite, the bill fair - even the ‘facilities’ were up to scratch. You even get to wipe your hands from a ‘pile’ of paper towels, accordingly, grab as many as you like before binning them. So, next time you’re on the Waterfront, heed my words and eat the place out.

www.firehouserotisserie.co.uk

Paul Lever