Clifton Sausage

Great local restaurant - our first visit and hopefully not our last. Attentive service, good food and drinks.

We had a lovely midweek meal here earlier this week. The food was fresh and full of flavour, the service quick once we had ordered and the portion sizes were generous. We used first table and were sat in a quieter part of the restaurant with a little less atmosphere so would love to return and sit up top.

We were recommended Clifton Sausage by a local and visited on a Sunday. The Sunday menu is fantastic because it offers all the sausage dishes in addition to a classic roast. Really reasonable prices for a set menu. Roast portion size and quality was delicious. A couple suggestions: Could the restaurant offer the option to mix and match your sausages to allow people to try more flavours? Add a side of custard to the crumble. Reasonable prices for a large glass of red as well (8) Lovely meal and we will definitely be back.

Popped in one afternoon mid-week and received a very warm welcome by Sabrina (?). Lovely place with wooden tables. Menu looked interesting with a few classics, but the star was clearly the sausage. Shared a deep fried squid starter which was superb. Never had squid so tender and the batter was very tasty, too. My partner had the daily special black pudding mash and black pudding sausages. I went for champ and pork, leek, stilton sausages. Both dishes excellent. Puts bangers and mash to a whole new level! Very high quality bangers, lovely creamy mash and the gravy was almost black and full of flavour. Banging!!! (No pun intended ) Desserts didn't disappoint either so we left stuffed and happy.

Booked here for Sunday lunch menu and I would definitely recommend. I had 2 starters as I was so hungry, the soup was delicious, it had that wonderful homemade feel and texture to it. The cheese souffle was good, fun texture, but the flavour was a little bland, not as cheesy as I had anticipated. The roast itself was wonderful, my friend and I got the combo roast and our server Nicky was lovely enough to give us extra beef as we did not like turkey. The gravy was thick, flavourful. Personally I prefer my beef pink, but I was not disappointed! It was so tender, and so was the pork. The pork was amazing, so meaty, very little fat, and super tender, it passed the fork test. The sausage was a little lacklustre, quite salty, and a bit of a flat texture. Overall, it was delicious. My only disappointment was the service. Our server Nicky was lovely, but it was quite slow and at times, did not feel very attentive. We had to try to catch someone to get us another drink. However, I understand it’s Sunday and the restaurant was getting somewhat busy - good sign! If you want a chilled afternoon, not in a rush and good food. I would 100% recommend.

Absolutely love this place! Me and my partner have visited for dinner a couple of times and both times have been amazing. The legend behind the bar is very welcoming and attentive and so are his staff. The food is excellent and very hearty. If you’re going definitely order ‘the Clifton’, it is very tasty! We will definitely be visiting again soon.

The Clifton sausages and champ were fresh and delicious. The broccoli was well seasoned and the hand cut chips were very crispy. I do recommend this place. Will be back soon

There are some places that aren’t so much part of the food scene as they are part of the actual scenery. Places so ingrained in the local fabric, you’re not sure whether they serve sausages or hold up the street itself. The Clifton Sausage is one of those places. A fixture. A stalwart. A culinary lamppost. It’s been there so long, it’s basically a Grade II listed gravy boat. And the setting? Well, Clifton Village is one of those smugly perfect bits of Bristol that looks like it was dreamed up by a National Trust focus group. Georgian terraces. Wisteria. A cheese shop. A wine merchant with actual opinions. But catch it on a warm Friday evening and it’s magic. That post-work lull where the sun glances off the stone and the locals—actual locals, not day-trippers or students on their ninth coffee of the day—come out to play. That’s when I like it. When Clifton breathes out. When people drink properly rather than “catch up” over something served in a jam jar. Which is exactly what I was doing, slightly sweaty from a day pretending to work, still tender from the night before. Hair of the dog? Obviously. And, in such pleasant surroundings, one became three, and the idea of cooking at home became as likely as Boris Johnson winning Mastermind with “Personal Integrity” as his specialist subject. So: dinner. And when you’re in this part of town and you’ve had a few, the Clifton Sausage is not so much an option as a gravitational pull. It’s comfort food without the side order of shame. We turned up unbooked—reckless, yes, but sometimes life needs a bit of edge—and were slotted in with the warm, efficient grace of a place that knows it’s good and doesn’t need to shout about it. Most tables were taken. Not heaving, not shouty, just full in the way a Friday night pub should be. Starters? No thank you. I don’t go to gigs to watch the support acts, and I didn’t come here for a croquette. I came for the big boys. The sausages. The mash. The gravy that could bring peace to the Middle East. And here’s the rub: the menu always waves something fancy at you—calves’ liver in Madeira, pork belly with cider gravy, all gorgeous, all temptations—but my eyes never get past the toad in the hole. It’s not just a dish. It’s an embrace. A Yorkshire pudding duvet cradling proper porkiness. Then you must choose your bangers. Eight options. I went Old Spot, because I’m a patriot. But there was a moment, fleeting but real, when I considered asking for all eight. A Sausage Octet. A Symphony in Snout. But I imagined the look on my companion’s face and settled for one, like a coward. Mash or champ? Come on. Champ, obviously. A bit of greenery in your potato like a nod to your five-a-day. And that onion gravy? Rich, sweet, the kind of thing that makes you sit back and exhale slowly through your nose like a bloke in a gravy advert. And that’s it, really. No fireworks, no gimmicks, no edible soil or foam or anything being “deconstructed”. Just good food done properly by people who care. You eat, you smile, you maybe have another pint. You walk home full and vaguely grateful for the world. So thank you, Clifton Sausage, for being there. For being reliable. For not buggering about. You’re not just part of the village—you are the village. Long may you sizzle.