Smokebox, Totterdown: Keeping the gastronomical bonfires of Totterdown burning
Does exactly what it says on the box
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Someone once bought me a book about the world’s most interesting toilets.
We’re talking bucket-list bathrooms, cans with a view: long drops into glacial streams in the Nepalese foothills or butt-baring in the British Columbian wilderness, 300 feet under a blue and green mosaic of Douglas fir.
While my toilet doesn’t quite deliver the same vista, it sits within view of a large, framed poster of Massive Attack’s Blue Lines, a record which I connected with in my teenage years, shortly before my move to Bristol and before I became aware of the band’s deeper history and interrelation to the city.
I have this familiarity in mind as we climb the dark bend out of Temple Meads and begin the uphill approach to Totterdown’s Smokebox; the glass exterior spilling the restaurant’s glow onto the street.
Perhaps it’s this very image: that attractively lit corner of a neighbourhood hang-out that I’ve seen photographed and pined after many times before or maybe it’s the simplistic logo, that ‘flammable’ warning sign that burns against the interior brick, only a few Pantone shades away from Massive Attack’s inextricable 1991 debut album artwork. Sure, the restaurant is called Smokebox and they smoke meat — I get the fire symbolism — but there’s a cuter nod to Bristol here too, right?
If, like me, you are someone who experiences fluctuating levels of confidence, walking into a new environment puts your nerves to the test at the best of times. Yet there remains a golden recipe to disassemble any heightened awareness of unknown spaces — the human smile and, in this case, multiple smiles from members of staff as we are warmly welcomed into the, well, warm restaurant.
This might be an early table on a Saturday afternoon, but the place is well and truly in motion, every table almost full, conversation flowing to a classic rock soundtrack and the smell of smoke enough to stir those deeply innate human emotions: fire, food, home. Yes, this is most adequate and cosy now, but I’m already propelling my mind forward to summer evenings here, a cold beer in hand and that pink haze settling above the belly of Bristol below.
No sooner are we sat than our host explains with enthusiasm what’s what with the menu and it’s clear he wants us to feed well, without ordering unnecessary amounts. To some this may feel like an unwarranted handhold, but to me it’s attentive service. After all, he knows what I can’t possibly know — that eyes are often bigger than stomachs and Smokebox is a restaurant for food communion. A place built to let hands hover over shared dishes, similar to the joys of eating at Bokman or Root, other favourites of mine. There are even entire platters for just over the forty quid mark which offer brisket with either pork belly or prawns and the kitchen sink of accompaniments for good measure.
A round of Cokes in hand and the food arrives in quick succession. Three taster plates: smoky wings (£7), eighteen hour-smoked brisket (£8) and honey-glazed smoked halloumi (£6) are shortly followed by a ‘bun’ triple stacked with a ménage à trois of pork belly, even more brisket, and halloumi (£15) and a tray of skinny fries (£5).
A moment of silence descends. That hopeful second, like an animal suppressing a roar, where all emotion is battened down; a pause in the anticipation of good things.
And what follows is good.
The brisket, which has sat for almost an entire day in what is currently the restaurant’s only smoker, is soft and forgiving. It melts away without effort, its time in the cabinet has allowed the smoke to creep in and achieve the desired buttery character.
The smoke on the halloumi works extremely well with the honey glaze, pan finished to form a crust which allows for a brief crack through sweetness before the softer texture and woody flavour combine. It’s simple and efficient cookery that you don’t need to mess with: honey, salt, cheese and smoke. Delicious.
But surprisingly, I pin my rosette on the chicken wings. There was a fleeting flurry of excitement around wings a while back, stirred by another social video of how to pummel a wing into a table with your fingers to quickly strip the meat from the fiddly bones. In honesty, I’d rather work away at a leg any day but credit where it’s due, I’d forgotten how good smoked chicken can be and how much of a departure the flavour is from your usual roasted bird, the sweet barbecue sauce adding to the complexity.
As someone who has spent their career around developing restaurants my only pointer here would be about the loaded bun. The brisket, pork belly and halloumi were all individually tasty, but piled up here the average bap only detracted. Work in some sauce, textural salad and a contrasting pickled element and you could have a thuggy version of a bánh mì, but maybe Smokebox want to keep it pared back and simple.
And simple it all was, because when you merge good food, genuine, welcoming service and a great atmosphere it all equates to the only important thing – that I would come back.
Before I leave, I visit the toilets and while unremarkable, they were clean, functional and well-supplied. Just like the restaurant, there was everything you needed to have a good time.
All words and photos by Roo Winks, edited by Meg Houghton-Gilmour
Smokebox, 172 Wells Rd, Totterdown, BS4 2AL
The Bristol Sauce is an AI free publication — all our work is written and edited by humans.
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Really wonderful to see Totterdown getting some love!
I remember a great toilet in a Mexican hotel that was rendered inoperable by my fellow guest washing his feet in the sink.