If anyone is going to make German food cool in Britain, then it would likely be the D&D group. Their German Gymnasium restaurant in London has become a deserved destination venue (last visited by this reviewer in December) built around the whole experience – building, food and ambience. They’ve recently taken the same formula to Bristol, where Klosterhaus represents a novel addition to the city’s burgeoning food scene.
Klosterhaus – literally translated as ‘convent house’, or monastery – appropriately sits within an 18th Century Quakers Friars building. The Grade 1 listed venue has been restored lovingly, drawing widely on the experience not only of the Gymnasium but also paying clear homage to Europe’s Grand Cafés. Walk in and marvel at the large space set over two floors and dominated by a circular central bar. It’s more about vibe than décor. Most of the furnishings are appropriately austere (even if there is a space for the work of upcoming German artists to be shown), but the venue is damn good for people watching. We were perched on the upper level which perhaps lacked some of the buzz of downstairs, but provided a wonderful view point from which to observe proceedings.
The Grand Café concept means all-day dining by a more impressive-sounding name. There is, however, a certain joy in knowing that you can comfortably breakfast, lunch or dine in the same place without losing much of the essence of what Klosterhaus is trying to achieve. If there is a downside to this approach though, then it is that in trying to please everyone all of the time, inevitably some compromises are made with the cooking. Cooking here is more, to my mind, about delivering rather than truly delighting.
The evening dining menu contains both the wonderfully Germanic (currywurst, schnitzel) as well as the more commonplace (chicken breast and burger) – or something for everyone. I went classic for my starter and Austrian for my main. The Klosterhaus steak tartare had probably the least appealing aesthetic I had seen for some time – an excessively orange looking yolk plus a mud coloured patty for meat – and had little of the flavour harmony I might usually expect from such a dish. A schnitzel main merited similar criticism. Maybe the comparison was unfair having recently eaten several in Austria, but the meat should be thinly cut and not greasy. Here, it was neither.
Despite these criticisms, it hardly seemed to matter. We had a lovely bottle of wine (an Austrian GV) chosen from a sensible list and pricing was very fair. £14 for a burger or £18 for fish and chips would not be out of place in many pubs, especially in London. Even if the food was closer to the pedestrian than the truly outstanding (and the same would apply for service), what you’re getting at Klosterhaus is an experience. If you can’t make it to Germany or similar, then at least let a version of it come to you.