Public House Atmosphere Is Crazy Like a Fox & Firkin

The quaintly named Fox & Firkin is a “public house” appointed in the grand manner of an old-fashioned British pub. It’s part of a chain with more than 20 branches in Canada, and this Newport Beach location is said to be testing the waters for franchising in our area. Judging by the crowds, the test looks like a success.

Let’s first clear up the record by stating that a firkin is an antiquated measurement for beer, about a quarter of a barrel. You’re on your own with the fox part.

There’s no disputing the sheer conviviality of this place, managed by a burly South Londoner named Stan Anderson. You’ll find Anderson--a silver fox if there ever was one--handing out Fox & Firkin T-shirts to ladies on busy nights, chatting up the throngs with a born huckster’s charm in his inimitable Cockney accent. If they ever make a movie about this man’s life, Michael Caine has the inside track for the lead.

The F&F; is long on atmosphere, short on skirts (waitresses are clad in hot pants). The walls are cluttered with Anglophile memorabilia--a Union Jack here, a village scene there. Huddled in our alcove by the dart room on a Friday evening, we could hardly hear ourselves think above the din. There was a rugby match on cable on the TV just overhead, flashing the score: Canberra 12, Penrith 6. Could this really be Newport Beach?

One thing is certain: The F&F; is not the place for a first date. The bar is crowded with people howling and roaring while they swill half-pints of Dog Bolter, Vixen Light or McEwan’s Export.

Let it not be forgotten, however, that a public house is as much a place for eating as for revelry. The Fox & Firkin offers a full menu of British specialties, with most of the Brit classics except for roast beef and Yorkshire pudding. There are great, gaping plates of fish and chips, for instance--giant pieces of thickly breaded codfish and monster-cut fries.

I’m going to tell you up front that the soggy, mostly boiled dishes of the British Isles do not exactly inspire me to the poetic flights of a Percy B. Shelley. Apparently, more than a few Britons feel the same way, because when these people aren’t eating Indian food, they are covering up the taste of their native dishes with violent condiments such as malt vinegar, Colman’s mustard and Worcestershire sauce--all used in force at this restaurant.

They even resort to something called Branston pickle, which is served with the ploughman’s lunch here. I suspect you must be British to love this stuff, a murky red jelly with the texture of mincemeat and the perfume of a borrowed saxophone case.

The ploughman’s lunch, though, is an interesting plate of pub nibbles. The centerpiece is three English cheeses: Leicester, Stilton and huntsman’s Cheddar. These are sharp and flavorful, served in generous wedges, and if only the bread were as crusty as the menu advertises, the dish could not be faulted. I rather fancy the pungent, brownish, pickled onion that comes on the plate, but the lone hard-cooked egg seems strangely out of place.

Pub food is often salty or savory, the better to promote a powerful thirst. Scotch eggs are one way to go--cold hard-cooked eggs wrapped in sausage meat, which you smear with that fierce English mustard. But the eggs themselves don’t have much flavor, and the sausage meat has less. I’m pushing garlic mushrooms instead, probably the best dish on the menu. You get an entire casserole dish of whole braised mushroom caps, dark, smoky and redolent of roasted garlic.

Fish and chips is far and away the entree of choice here, and it isn’t bad, consisting of flaky hunks of cod in too much batter (you can easily pull it off). Most of these other dishes are pies or casseroles, ponderously heavy and bland.

Steak and kidney pie is a dish that needs to be almost perfect in order to succeed. I’m afraid this one isn’t. It’s eaten out of a crock with a flaky puff pastry hat, and there is a surfeit of kidney in the dark, rich gravy inside. Chicken and leek pie works a lot better. It’s practically all tender white meat, and the leeks are cooked nicely into the flavorful gravy.

You’ll find a few grilled dishes on hand, too. The mixed grill, for instance: liver, bacon, sausage and a pork chop. It’s ordinary, filling fare respectably done.

The most popular grilled dish here--I can’t figure why--has to be bangers, mash and onions. The English have an inscrutable taste for bangers, those sausages consisting mostly of starch and fat that have practically no flavor at all. But there is nothing wrong with these mashed potatoes and fried onions, so the dish isn’t a total loss.

Most of the entrees, in fact, come with good, lumpy mashed potatoes, along with a russet-colored home-style gravy and a giant helping of green peas. Shepherd’s pie is the ultimate potato dish, a deep-dish pie of ground beef, diced vegetables, mashed potatoes and cheese, and I have to admit it is at least as tasty as the versions I have eaten in Merrie Olde England.

Proper shepherd’s pie, of course, calls for lamb, since shepherds are not known for their vast herds of cattle. I guess the owners decided they had to draw the line somewhere.

The Fox & Firkin is inexpensive. Starters are $2.95 to $4.75. Salads are $4.95 to $5.95. Cold plates and sandwiches are $3.75 to $5.95. Main dishes are $5.95 to $9.95.

* THE FOX & FIRKIN

* 3601 Jamboree Road, Newport Beach.

* (714) 263-8670.

* Open daily, 11 a.m. to 1 p.m.

* All major cards accepted.