There are two types of person at a pavement café. There are the ones who sit down and say “I’ll just have a jacket potato” with the quiet dignity of someone ordering at a Michelin-starred restaurant. And then there are the ones who peer at the laminated A-board menu for a full sixty seconds, then order a jacket potato anyway, because “jacket potato” and “chips” are the only options and the universe has spoken.
The pavement café is Britain’s most optimistic outdoor dining experience: a fold-out table held together by hope and a bag of chips, paper plates that buckle under the slightest gravitational pressure, and a menu written in permanent marker that sometimes includes “soup of the day” before being hastily crossed out when it’s the third Tuesday in November and nobody knows what the soup of the day was supposed to be. They peaked somewhere between the late 1980s and the millennium, when pubs across the country decided that if their beer garden had one table that didn’t wobble, they could charge a fiver for a jacket potato with “extras.” The paper plates were introduced not for environmental reasons but because nobody wanted to wash anything, and they remain to this day the structural equivalent of a bridge built by someone who once passed a Woodwork exam.
This recipe honours that tradition, because both the pavement café and the jacket potato operate on the same principle: present something fundamentally simple with enough confidence and condiments, and nobody will notice that the foundations are a bit iffy. A jacket potato with crispy shallots, mature cheddar, and a generous dollop of soured cream. It’s pub food that’s had one good idea and is determined to make it work — much like the landlord who first thought “yes, people will definitely eat on my patio in October.”
Ingredients
- 4 large floury potatoes (Maris Piper or King Edward — the sort that turns to fluffy cloud when baked; avoid new potatoes, they’ll be as much use as a pavement café umbrella in a drizzle)
- 2 large shallots, finely sliced into rings
- 100g mature cheddar, coarsely grated (not the pre-grated stuff in a bag — that’s the processed cheese equivalent and it’ll melt into something with the texture of a lost sock)
- 4 tbsp soured cream (or crème fraîche if you’re feeling like you’ve upgraded to the garden shed rather than the pavement)
- 2 spring onions, finely sliced
- 2 tbsp olive oil or vegetable oil, plus extra for the potatoes
- 1 tbsp butter, plus extra for finishing
- Sea salt and freshly ground black pepper
- A handful of fresh parsley, chopped (optional, but it makes it look like you planned something)
Method
- Preheat your oven to 220°C (200°C fan). This is the part where the oven is your pavement café — it’s going to be hot, slightly chaotic, and things may tip over if you’re not careful. Scrub the potatoes clean, prick them all over with a fork (several times — you want them vented, not pressurised), rub them with oil and salt, and put them straight on the middle shelf for 50–60 minutes. They’re done when they squeeze gently like the most optimistic stress ball you’ve ever held.
- While the potatoes are baking, deal with the shallots. Heat the olive oil in a frying pan over medium heat — not too hot, you’re aiming for golden and crispy, not the colour of a hazard cone. Toss in the sliced shallot rings and cook for 8–10 minutes, stirring occasionally, until they’re properly crisp. The shallots should resemble the structural integrity of a pavement café table after a pint: still holding together, but with questions about their long-term prospects. Drain on kitchen paper. They’ll keep in a jam jar for a week — like a good pavement café, they have an inexplicable ability to last.
- When the potatoes are done — and they’ll announce themselves with a slight softening, like a bouncer who’s decided you’re alright tonight — remove them from the oven. Cut a deep cross on the top of each one, then squeeze the sides to open them up. This is where the paper plate buckles, except your plate should be slightly more competent. If it isn’t, consider upgrading.
- Dot a knob of butter into each potato — it should melt into the fluffy interior like a good idea finding a receptive audience. Sprinkle the grated mature cheddar over the top, where it’ll begin to melt within seconds of encountering residual heat. The cheddar should behave like a pavement café regular: turning up uninvited and making itself at home.
- Top with the crispy shallots, a generous dollop of soured cream, the sliced spring onions, and a scattering of parsley if you went down that route. Season with black pepper — the final flourish, like the landlord putting a beer mat under your drink before you’ve asked.
Serve immediately, while everything is still holding together. Best eaten with a fork and a sense of having made a decision, even if that decision was made from a menu of two items.
The jacket potato keeps its reputation regardless of the plate it’s served on. The crispy shallots, meanwhile, last for days in an airtight jar — which is more than most pavement cafés can claim.
