Barry Parade Public House is a proper room. Not performative, not shouting about itself, just a good bar that happens to cook seriously. Creole flavours on the plate, a drinks list that could hold a table for an hour on its own, and a crowd that turned up because they wanted to be here.
We kept it short and sharp. Olasagasti anchovies arrived bright with salsa verde and a ginger dressing that had a clean heat to it, and pickled veg to keep the palate honest. Then LP's smoked mortadella with chow chow relish, a lovely loud-quiet combination of fat and brine. Fried pickles, done the right way. Tempura mushrooms that were gone first.
The drinks list is doing real work here, and the kitchen holds its end up without fuss. That's a rarer combination than it should be.
Why it works
The menu is confident. Four plates in and you can tell the kitchen cares about the order you eat them in, not just what's on them. Nothing was perfect, but nothing needed to be: it was the exact dining experience the room was promising, which is what most restaurants fail to deliver.
Would I go back?
Already planning it, and I'll probably double the order next time. Bring the person you actually want to talk to.