The combination of artistry with an understanding of what people want to eat, as opposed to what the chef wants to inflict on us, is Three Bears just right
The most exquisite thing that we eat at this new addition to Brighton’s restaurant scene is the simplest: a tiny crab tartlet with pastry so fragile, you wonder at its capacity to support its quantities of dewy, sweet white Portland crab meat and flourish of airy hollandaise, bisque-rich with the swansong of various crustacea and crabby bits and pieces. This is no-messing brilliance.
But, despite worrying menu descriptions, none of our subsequent dishes has a superfluous element. I’ve allowed myself an evil guffaw at the thought of “English pea custard” with “lavender brioche”. Seriously: bwahahah, and where did I leave my claw sharpener? But it’s serene and mellifluous, the emerald “custard” more like another iteration of hollandaise, vivid with peas both pureed and raw, the brioche crisp little cubes lurking in its depths, the lavender more a frisson of a memory of a scent than anything by Yardley.