The Parakeet’s confit potatoes [Justin De Souza]

CHURCHES are struggling to fill their pews, even though most of us still crave that communal space.

It’s a void cleverly filled by The Parakeet in Kentish Town Road, a glorious new gastropub that’s lifted architectural details from this religious experience.

The interior is a wonder, with acres of wood panelling, stained glass windows and intricate carved arches soaring above the kitchen pass. Their carpenter has been hard at work for months and is still finishing off upstairs.

In the kitchen, chefs tend to scorching flames from a Hibachi grill and wood fired oven.

The pub has taken over the site of The Oxford, which is remembered in sketches on the walls – including a local series from The Secret Artist.

The new owners have a heavyweight CV, with a career in nightclubs and venues including Jazz Café on Parkway, The Blues Kitchen and the Old Queen’s Head in Islington.

The main pub space feels not dissimilar to its previous incarnation, although the whole building has been painted a deep green. On the walls hang portraits by the Ghanaian artist NiiOdai; rivulets of plaster have been scraped away then polished to reveal glimpses of the bare brick.

Walk deeper in and you pass panelled booths, with a nod to the church confessional, then under a swathe of heavy drapes to the 60-cover dining room.

This is where the serious eating takes place, with a short list of seasonal dishes written up on the blackboard.

We started with thick slices of potato bread served with a mound of whipped smoked butter. A simple plate of homemade pickles helps cut through the fat.

The cooking here blends a primal simplicity with more elaborate flourishes.

Croquettes are filled with spider crab, the rich brown meat balanced by dainty dabs of a wild garlic mayonnaise with a kick of acidity. Two oysters are dressed with curls of pickled kohl rabi.

A dish of confit potatoes is made with fine ribbons of the coiled tuber – an intricate creation so rich that it almost polished us off.

Mains are large and often best to share. Right now, their sea bream is a signature plate. It’s served in a monstrous fashion: head intact, split down the middle then splayed so it looks like some kind of prehistoric terror from the deep.

We stuck with the vegetables. I loved the rustic beans that accompanied slivers of squash in a tempura batter, the pulses spiked with chunks of blood orange.

To finish, a pastry called Kouign-amann, a Breton cake made in Kossoffs bakery across the road. They split it in half and serve it with a brown butter custard.

The Parakeet is designed to flex: pop in for a pint and snacks; a fancy full-blown dinner with a smashing wine list; or a wood-fired roast on Sundays. Amen to that.

The Parakeet
256 Kentish Town Road, NW5
www.theparakeetpub.com
@the_parakeet