Tom Jenkins stumbles upon a hidden gem in Liverpool’s Baltic Triangle… eventually
Liverpool’s Baltic Triangle neighbourhood, to the south of the city centre, is a mere half a mile downhill from the majestic Anglican Cathedral. Somehow, whilst making this journey on foot on a warm, breezy May evening, I lose all sense of direction. I unintentionally take the scenic route via the waterfront, as if bewitched by a siren of the murky River Mersey. It takes me 45 minutes; it should take 10. Before you ask, I did consult a certain smartphone app, but its veiny form seemed to dissolve into unintelligible binary code before my eyes. “You can walk everywhere in Liverpool,” they said.
I’m in town for the seventh annual Liverpool Sound City festival. I’ve heard murmurings that the Baltic Triangle, a largely industrial area framed by the traffic-heavy Parliament Street, Jamaica Street and St James Street, is home to a small but blossoming creative community. My first stop then is the aptly named The Baltic Social, a bar cum performance venue on Parliament Street itself.
However, due to my aforementioned pede-odyssey the kitchen is closed by the time I arrive. I head back towards the Liverpool One area, essentially the city’s main retail zone, and enjoy a fine spot of tapas at the Salt House, which is something of a local institution by all accounts. Honeyed chorizo with a satisfyingly spicy finish and tender monkfish on a bed of samphire, topped with a gentle sun-dried tomato tapenade, is washed down with a crisp, zesty Villa Domiziano Prosecco. Highly recommended if in the area.
The following day I seem to have regained my bearings. I head back to the Baltic Triangle to Camp and Furnace, a cavernous bar/restaurant on Greenland Street with an enormous group dining area (the ‘furnace’) and club venue (‘camp’) attached. Despite its size I almost miss the entrance, save for an upturned oil drum outside with the Camp and Furnace logo punched into it.
On the weekends the venue hosts three separate food events: a ‘food slam’ described as a “large-scale supper party, where food meets drink, meets dance music”, a ‘meatmarket’ – “a weekly disco/dining carve up, meat-laden and heavy on the cocktails” – and a traditional Sunday menu. When I arrive, proprietor Ian Richards and his staff are busy preparing for their forthcoming second birthday. The DJ line-up – X-Press-2’s Ashley Beedle, Horse Meat Disco, amongst others – seems perfectly tailored to the tastes of Liverpool’s notoriously glam club goers. Ironically, I take a seat in the library area of the lobby bar, which is gloomy but comfortable.
The kitchen claims a distinct Scandinavian influence in their cooking but the lobby bar menu appears more modern European, with hints of Americana. I opt for a spatchcock poussin, with peanut-slaw and fries. The peanut-slaw is a revelation – I’m sure this is something that’s been slavered over in countless trendy London BBQ restaurants, but it’s my first time – and matches perfectly with the honey tones of a Spanish Alhambra lager.The poussin is deliciously moist, as is the rich chocolate brownie with pistachio ice cream I have for dessert, though the accompanying honeycomb is on the wrong side of chewy and ultimately inedible.
The clientele is mixed when I visit and includes a young family, wizened old ale drinkers, the 22-and-tattooed brigade and middle-aged men with the haircuts of younger men, tapping away ferociously at silver Macbooks. Speaking to Ian I get the sense that he’s one of a small but devoted group of business people attracted to the area by the cheap rents, who are now looking to put the Baltic Triangle on the map culturally, or at least fashion something to rival the pubs and clubs of nearby Seel Street.
As I leave I look towards the cathedral and thank a non-specific almighty for my poor sense of direction: the inevitably elongated walk back to Lime Street station will give me the chance to burn off the delicious food I’ve just devoured at Camp and Furnace.
