Friday Night at Tyddyn Llan

The 'Gourmet Friday' 7-Course Tasting Menu at a Michelin Starred Restaurant

Llandrillo and Tyddyn Llan

Wales

Denbighshire

Leaving Anglesey we headed south-east on the A5 through Snowdonia and Betws-y-Coed to Corwen, the fine weather hanging on despite the morning's ominous signs. Near Corwen we turned south on the B4401 to Llandrillo, a small village deep in the green Denbighshire countryside near the banks of the River Dee. Llandrillo is named for Saint Trillo, a 6th century abbot of renowned holiness and a serial church founder.

North Wales (copyright OneworldMaps.com)
I have added the approximated position of Llandrillo south-west of Corwen

Tyddyn Llan is a few hundred metres beyond the village. Set in extensive gardens, it was built in the 18th century as a shooting lodge for the Duke of Westminster. Much enlarged in the 19th century it became the home of Llandrillo’s vicar when perhaps it gained its name which roughly translates as ‘Glebe House.’ Despite further enlargements at both ends of the 20th century it is a Grade II Listed Building described as a fine gentry house with C18 origins and good early-C19 character. As we arrived the heat wave and drought unequivocally came to an end. With no intention of standing around in a torrential downpour, I have no picture of my own.

Tyddyn Llan, Llandrillo
The picture is by Bryan Webb and has been borrowed from the Tyddyn Llan website (with thanks and apologies)

After learning his craft at The Crown in Whitebrook and Drangway in Swansea, Crumlin-born Bryan Webb left Wales in 1983, to hone his skills in Scotland and then London. He returned in 2002 setting up Tyddyn Llan with his wife Susan – who works front of house – as a restaurant with rooms. In 2010 it was the fourth restaurant in Wales to gain a Michelin star (there are now seven) and has held it ever since.[Update: Tyddyn Llan lost its Michelin star in Oct 2019. No one knows why.]

Bryan Webb on the cover of his latest book

Checking in was complicated by the Welsh National Surname Shortage. Two other couples with our surname had booked for that evening, the two men had the same first name and one of them was married to another Lynne. The confusion resulted in an upgrade of our room, but such is life; we coped.

Friday Gourmet Night

We had booked the Friday Gourmet Night 7-course Tasting menu. I have shuddered at the word ‘gourmet’ since we lived in the US in the early 80s and were bombarded with television adverts by a certain Orville Redenbacher flogging his eponymous ‘Gourmet Popping Corn’. Gourmet - befitting a connoisseur of good food and wines - should descibe every dish served at a restaurant of this standard (whether the customers are gourmets or not), but never ever popcorn. I might wince at the wording but once we had settled in the lounge and were presented with the menu I found my lexical discomfort easy to ignore.

The day's 7-course tasting menu - the delights to come

Aperitif and Canapées

Our deal included a half bottle of champagne. Some places might fob you off with cava, I expected an anonymous champagne, we got Louis Roederer. It may not have been Louis Roederer Cristal, that would have been too much to hope for, but it was still a fine Champagne - a pleasurable wine, deliciously smooth and mature as the makers modestly describe it.

Louis Roederer Brut - good stuff!

‘Canapés’ appears on the menus, but not as one of the seven courses (I counted!). Generally, I think salmon is overrated, but this mouthful of soft salmon mousse wrapped in raw salmon was a delightful combination of textures and complimented the champagne like they were made for each other. A quail’s egg is just an egg, albeit a small one, top quality sausage meat is still just sausage meat, so the tiny scotch egg was just a scotch egg. The leek and laverbread tart – what else to eat in Wales - was a marvel, two potentially competing strong flavours in total harmony. I was less impressed with the fish cake, nicely crisp outside, luxuriously soft inside but just lacking in something, I would have liked a little more dill (or was it fennel?)

We moved through to the dining room.

Course 1: Gazpacho

Lynne is usually dismissive of Gazpacho – take it away and warm it up, being her usual unoriginal comment. This gazpacho was a game changer, almost. Thick and smooth yet with a crunch of cucumber and slight spiciness, the fresh Mediterranean flavours won me over completely, and I think Lynne was beginning to bend.

Course 2: Langoustine

The dish did not look special, hidden beneath fronds of rocket but the langoustines were perfectly cooked and so fresh they were sweet, the avocado was a richly smooth guacamole, the dressing set everything off perfectly and the fennel, a soft, folded strip of vegetable lying beneath the langoustine adding delicious aniseed notes. I have not eaten anything so good for ages - though I doubt I would have missed the slice of radish had it been absent.

Dressed Langoustine, Tyddyn Llan

The first of the matched wines was Domaine de Gerbeaux, Mâcon Soloutré. An unoaked chardonnay, refreshingly citrusy with ripeness balancing its bright acidity. It was a fine accompaniment.

Course 3: Stuffed Courgette Flower

After the delights of the langoustine this was a descent to earth. The big, bright yellow flower stuffed with mozzarella and deep fried in the lightest, crunchiest tempura batter lacked variety and juxtaposition of flavours and there was just too much of it. I would have liked less of the flower and more of the tomato and basil sauce.

The matching wine, Villa Huesgen’s ‘By the Glass’ Riesling, comes from an unspecified corner of Germany but works hard not to appear German. The wine list calls it a dry modern Riesling, immensely appealing and approachable. I suspect ‘approachable’ means ‘there is nothing here for anybody to dislike, because there is nothing.’ After trying to drown the world in third-rate Liebfraumilch in the 1970s German wine makers lost their confidence but this, with its awful name, is not the way back.

Course 4: Scallops

We disagreed about this one. This was a busy dish with cauliflower purée, little strips of pancetta cooked to crispness and an assertive caper and raisin dressing. Lynne, a scallop purist who holds that anything other than a light bouillon is a distraction, thought the scallop had been ‘mucked about.’ Being less inclined to regard the scallop as underwater royalty I thought the combinations had been well thought out and brilliantly executed. I liked it a lot.

The Verdejo/Sauvignon from Bodegas Naia in Rueda worked well enough with this. I am not a great Verdejo fan, but the 15% Sauvignon Blanc redeemed it with a becoming creaminess.

Course 5: Roast Plaice

Fish is not often roasted, and I suspect that roasting a thin, delicate fillet of plaice requires precisely judged temperature and timings. This was a triumph. Sprinkled with samphire it sat in a yin and yang of laverbread sauce and beurre blanc. The evening’s second appearance of laverbread was by no means unwelcome, and the beurre blanc sauce was so sumptuous I could have eaten a bowl of it with a spoon – though it would have done me no good.

Roast plaice with laverbread sauce, Tyddyn Llan

There is nothing a piece of plaice likes more than a good Muscadet, and Château de Poyet Muscadet Sèvre et Maine sur lie is a good Muscadet.

Course 6: Lamb or Duck

The courses hitherto had been small, though not tiny and we thought we were pacing ourselves well until the meat course arrived. In a review earlier this year Wales Online observed if you think fine dining is about tiny portions in the middle of big plates, then you haven't eaten here yet. Thirty years ago the appearance of a full sized main course at this stage would have been fine but as we progress through our sixties….

The Gosnargh duck was as good as they come, the pink breast sliced almost as thinly as bacon, the faggot intensely offal-y. Confit worked its magic, turning a humble spud into something delightful, and the port and blackcurrant sauce was rich if hardly ground-breaking. I do not see the point of celeriac purée, but maybe that is my problem.

The Patagonian Pinot Noir, pale almost rosé, and more Alsace-like than Burgundian was short of varietal flavour. Although I welcome the celebration of the long-standing links between Wales and Patagonia, the wine was disappointing.

Lynne struggled with her lamb, finding the cutlets delicious but running out of steam on the slow-cooked breast. There was no doubting the quality, but the quantity was too daunting at this stage of the evening.

Lynne and her lamb. Tyddyn Llan - that is a substantial plateful for course 6 of 7

The accompanying Rioja from Bodegas LAN, was as enjoyable as always – though as this was the climax I felt a reserva would have been more appropriate than a crianza.

Course 7: Cherry Soup with Cinnamon Ice Cream

For dessert I chose cherry soup with cinnamon ice cream, not because I imagined cherry soup would be anything more than a bowl of cherries, but for the ice cream. I thought the cinnamon understated (I prefer it that way) but the texture was something else. Even the best commercial ice creams are miles away from the luxury of real ice cream made by real people in a kitchen not a factory.

Cherry soup and cinnamon ice cream, Tyddyn Llan

Ice cream and wine are reluctant companions and I would not normally drink Moscato d'Asti but it was a revelation. Low in alcohol and semi-sparkling it was a surprisingly complex fruit salad of a wine and a fine accompaniment. Lynne opted out of the dessert but drank her Recioto della Valpolicella. Valpolicella made from partially dried grapes is usual vinified dry and strong. The sweet version - intensely and lusciously sweet - was new to me.

A fine evening finished in the lounge with coffee, petit fours (I still had one a small corner unstuffed) and a glass of grappa.

In 2012 Bryan Webb toldWales OnLine I have a Michelin star but wouldn’t class myself as a Michelin star chef….it makes people expect really fancy and technical food but that’s not for me. I do good honest food on a plate and by luck….we got a Michelin star but I have been cooking the same food for 22 years. I haven’t really changed anything [though] the ingredients might have got better.”

I would quibble with ‘by luck’ I suspect it was more to do with skill and hard work and as for being ‘technical’, top-quality ingredients beautifully cooked are good enough for me (and the Michelin inspectors).

I was a little disappointed with the wines; highlights were the Roederer Champagne at the start and (to my surprise) the Moscato d’Asti with dessert, but there were few peaks between. And if matching wines are offered for each course I want to see them on the menu with full details; I like to know my Muscadet comes from Château de Poyet and that I should not have had to do the checking, it should have been on the menu.

Tyddyn Llan was the fourth of Wales’ seven Michelin starred restaurants we have eaten at. At this level all should have at least one stand-out dish but Tyddyn Llan impressed me by having three, the langoustine, the plaice and the scallops (though Lynne would disagree about the scallops). Highly recommended

'Fine Dining' posts

Abergavenny and the Walnut Tree (2010)
Ludlow and La Bécasse (2011) (restaurant closed, post withdrawn)
Ilkley and The Box Tree(2012)
Pateley Bridge and the Yorke Arms (2013) (No longer a restaurant, post renamed Parceval Gardens and Pateley Br)
The Harrow at Little Bedwyn (2014)
The Slaughters and the Lords of the Manor (2015)
Loam, Fine Dining in Galway (2016)
Penarth and Restaurant James Sommerin (2017) (restaurant closed, post withdrawn. JS has a new restaurant in Penarth)
The Checkers, Montgomery (2017) (no longer a restaurant, post withdrawn. Now re-opened under new management)
Tyddyn Llan, Llandrillo, Denbighshire (2018)
Fischer's at Baslow Hall, Derbyshire (2019)
Hambleton Hall, Rutland (2021)
The Olive Tree, Queensberry Hotel, Bath (2022)
Dinner at Pensons near Tenbury Wells (2023) (restaurant closed Dec 2023, post withdrawn)

West of Ireland (3): Loam, Fine Dining in Galway

A Michelin Starred Restaurant Working Wonders with the Finest Local Ingredients
(and the Problem of Homelessness)

Ireland

County Galway

Our day out in Connemara had been blighted (though not ruined) by the weather, but it was our wedding anniversary - 41st, since you asked - so there was more fun to come.

The Republic of Ireland currently has nine Michelin starred restaurants. Four, including the only two-starred restaurants predictably in Dublin. Two of the remainder are in Galway suggesting the city, despite its well established foodie reputation, is punching above its weight.

Enda McEvoy and Loam

Enda McEvoy studied English and Sociology before making a career in cooking. He travelled widely to gain experience and was poached from Noma in Copenhagen to become head chef at Aniar in Galway where he won a Michelin star in 2013. Aniar maintained that standard even after he left to open his own restaurant, Loam, where he promptly gained Galway’s second Michelin star.

I chose Loam for our wedding anniversary foray into the world of fine dining after studying the web sites and sample menus of both restaurants and then tossing a coin. I certainly did not choose it for its exterior charm; just north of the city centre we walked past the bus station and a building site before finding it in the ground floor of a charmless building apparently unsure whether to be an office block or a shopping mall.

Loam, Galway
The restaurant frontage is the rectangle behind the two decorated pillars

A rough sleeper was bedding down in the covered area outside. I doubt his choice of location was intentional, but it administered a painful kick to the consciences of those arriving for an evening of conspicuous consumption. We probably needed it.

Inside is a spacious wine bar and beyond that, behind a wooden partition the restaurant. Outside it may look tacky but the modern design and light coloured wood make a pleasant interior, though it is unusually brightly lit for a wine bar/restaurant.

Looking at Lynne in the restaurant through the partition from the wine bar

Loam's 7-Course Taster Menu

The menu arrived along with complimentary glasses of sparkling wine - I had casually mentioned it was our anniversary when making the booking. They were generously sized, even more so if the contents were champagne and the quality, acidity and citrusy flavour made it a convincing substitute if it was not actually the real thing.

The ‘simplicity menu,’ three courses with two choices each, was limited but we were tempted by the seven course tasting menu, suspecting (rightly, as it turned out) that the laconic style held hidden surprises. I was particularly attracted by the idea of monkfish liver – I do not recall having eaten it, or any other fish liver before - and coolea, whatever that might be.

The seven course tasting menu, Loam, Galway
The menu changes daily depending on the available ingredients

The amuse bouche, not counted as one of the seven courses, consisted of three small mouthfuls, all packing more flavour per bite than seemed feasible. Pickled kohlrabi, carrot and tarragon in a rice noodle had a lovely Chinese character, the herb parcel to dip in fennel mayonnaise was merely pleasant, but the tiny cheese bun with bacon and onion was a revelation, making us reassess familiar ingredients and flavours.

The courses were small, but there were many of them and by the end we had eaten what my grandmother used to call an ‘elegant sufficiency.’

Hidden treasures appeared with the very first dish. Mackerel, beetroot and fennel was actually smoked mackerel with a dusting of fennel pollen, yellow beetroot carpaccio and fermented beetroot juice. Fermented beetroot juice, just a moistening to hold the dish together, and fennel pollen (I am unsure what that did) were new to me, as was yellow beetroot. The thin yellow slices and fermented juice set off the mackerel superbly.

Each course came with a recommended wine, and for the mackerel it was Empordà, a Catalan white with the Spanish virtue of freshness without a pronounced fruity flavour that would fight with the fish. The region used to be known as Empordà-Costa Brava, but they have dropped ‘Costa Brava,’ not wishing their wine to be considered mere holiday drinking.

The monkfish liver arrived with a tiny roasted onion, peeled baby broad beans (I could not be arsed to peel a broad bean, so if you come to my house...) and a squid ink sauce. I approached the liver with trepidation but it was unnecessary, the texture was hardly liver-y, perhaps closer to roe, and the flavour was subtle, even mild. More punch came from the squid ink, but the effect was still restrained. Presumably locally sourced, these are ingredients that usually get exported, mainly to Spain and this Spanish style dish came with a very French Picpoul de Pinet which I enjoyed, though it is sometimes too acid for my taste.

Coolea with carpaccio of sirloin was a stand-out dish. Raw and bloody, the sirloin was tucked round a small mound of coolea cheese and dusted with powdered ceps - the picture also shows a seed of some kind, though I can't remember what it was. The beef was thinly sliced, tender and full of flavour, the cheese soft and creamy, the combination perfection. Coolea farmhouse cheese has apparently been made in County Cork since 1979, but was new to us. Created by Helene and Dick Willems, the company is now run by their son Dicky and his wife Sinead and continues to win awards as it has from the beginning. Sinead apart, their names do not sound Irish, so it is no surprise that the cheese is made to an old Gouda recipe, though I would not have recognised this soft creaminess as being Gouda.

Sirloin, coolea and mushroom, Loam, Galway, - A carnivore's delight

It was accompanied by a Sangiovese/Montepulciano blend from Marche. A big rugged Italian with bags of sappy Sangiovese flavour and a tug of tannin it was a perfect match.

Carrot, Hazelnut and Whey consisted of goats' cheese whey with slow roast carrot, hazelnuts and nasturtium. The mixture of unexpected ingredients went remarkably well, but the dish was something of a saddle between two meaty peaks. The Alsace Pinot blanc was not entirely successful either, in Alsace they usually get the best out of this often dull grape, but not always.

Lamb, turnip and pea; two perfect pink cylinders of lamb with peas, watercress, parsley and tiny turnips looked a picture and was full of subtle and perfectly melded flavours. Turnip is a rediscovered vegetable (I blame Baldrick) and is worthy of renewed prominence, though the search for new traditional varieties produces some odd results. The wedge of purple turnip had a strangely floury texture and perhaps it should have been left in obscurity. The accompanying Rioja Crianza was good enough, but I would have hoped for a bit more finesse with the meal's centrepiece.

Lamb, turnip and pea, Loam, Galway

Pear, Elderflower, the first of two desserts, was a refreshing, palate-cleansing combination of pear, cucumber, granny smith and lemon verbena with an elderflower sorbet and beetroot coulis. I would normally shudder at the suggestion of cucumber in a dessert, and beetroot coulis is a strange concept, but it all worked magnificently; fresh, acidic and sweet. The ability to see how unexpected ingredients can come together to produce something new, unexpected and delightful is one of the talenst that separates Michelin starred chefs from us normal people.

And finally there was the real desert. Strawberry, Juniper involved strawberry ice cream with shards of juniper meringue, sweet pickled cherry, lovage sponge, coconut butter, white chocolate mousse, white chocolate bonbon, hazelnut crumb and a hint of smoked hay. There were many elements, some very small but all (except the almost undetectable smoked hay) made their contribution and the multitude of textures provided variety beneath the dominant sweetness of any dessert.

Strawberry, Juniper - Loam, Galway

And so finished our dinner at Loam. We might have been tempted by the additional cheese course if anyone had tried to sell it to us, but we were well enough fed without. With our coffee we asked for a brandy, but learned that they had no licence – licensing arrangements are clearly different in Ireland – and perhaps we should be grateful for being saved from over-indulgence.

Chef/proprietor Enda McEvoy is dedicated to local ingredients. The menu sometimes boasts that all ingredients are sourced from the west of Ireland but for our visit it only said ‘most’ – the coconut plantations and cocoa groves of County Clare await global warming. I applaud his attitude; his food and commercial success are rooted in the community and vice versa. It also cuts down the food miles – if you ignore our driving 50 miles, flying 200 and driving another 50 to be there. [In 2009 we stayed in an eco-lodge in the Periyar nature reserve in Kerala which boasted that their restaurant sourced all its ingredients from within a radius of 50km. The sourced their customers from an average distance of 5,000km.]

Lynne rated it the most exciting menu we have encountered. The local climate, though, lacks sunshine so the chef must work with flavours that are subtle, sometimes muted. My preference tends towards the more vivid and sun-drenched so although dazzled by the artistry and invention, I was slightly less enthusiastic.

As we settled the bill and added a tip I found myself thinking again about the rough sleeper outside and decided to give him (‘him’ is based on a shoe, which was all we could see of the individual) the same as the tip, but he was asleep and I felt it unwise to wake him.

In the morning I returned to take the picture at the top of this post. I also photographed the door with the restaurant’s name and found the rough sleeper had now moved right into the doorway. ‘That wasn’t very nice,’ said a voice as I continued on my way, ‘taking a photograph of that poor man.’ The speaker was the young man sitting on a green crate beside the red dustbin in the corner of the photograph at the top. I explained that I had been photographing the restaurant’s name not the rough sleeper, because we had eaten there last night. He apologised and said he had misunderstood, though he did not sound totally convinced. I told him I was glad that he had cared enough to speak out.

He was 100% right to challenge me, and I was 50% right in my justification. I would have photographed the doorway whether the rough sleeper had been there or not, but as it was they were inseparable.

Loam, Galway

I thought hard before deciding to include this photo. The photography in this blog is not art, it exists to record what I saw, and I saw this and if others see it, it may do some good – and the individual cannot be recognised.

How I dealt with my conscience is my business and the links below are not an attempt to persuade you, dear reader, to do it for me, but here they are, anyway.

The Simon Community in Galway do important work with the homeless, as do the 7 other Simon Communities around Ireland (and there is another in London where the charity was founded though it has been far more successful in Ireland)

The Salvation Army, Crisis at Christmas (who now operate throughout the year) and Shelter are important nationally in the UK.

Nearer home are the House of Bread in Stafford and the Newcastle Staffs Foodbank

This list is far from comprehensive.

The West of Ireland

Part 1: Galway
Part 2: Connemara in the Mist and the Rain
Part 3: Loam, Fine Dining in Galway
Part 4: Athenry, The Burren and Ennis
Part 5: Adare, Listowel and on to Tralee
Part 6: The Dingle Peninsula
Part 7: Killarney to Kenmare
Part 8: Ardfert, Flying-boats and Limerick

'Fine Dining' posts

Abergavenny and the Walnut Tree (2010)
Ludlow and La Bécasse (2011) (restaurant closed, post withdrawn)
Ilkley and The Box Tree(2012)
Pateley Bridge and the Yorke Arms (2013) (No longer a restaurant, post renamed Parceval Gardens and Pateley Br)
The Harrow at Little Bedwyn (2014)
The Slaughters and the Lords of the Manor (2015)
Loam, Fine Dining in Galway (2016)
Penarth and Restaurant James Sommerin (2017) (restaurant closed, post withdrawn. JS has a new restaurant in Penarth)
The Checkers, Montgomery (2017) (no longer a restaurant, post withdrawn. Now re-opened under new management)
Tyddyn Llan, Llandrillo, Denbighshire (2018)
Fischer's at Baslow Hall, Derbyshire (2019)
Hambleton Hall, Rutland (2021)
The Olive Tree, Queensberry Hotel, Bath (2022)
Dinner at Pensons near Tenbury Wells (2023) (restaurant closed Dec 2023, post withdrawn)

The Slaughters and the Lords of the Manor

Strikingly Pretty Villages and a Fine Wedding Anniversary Dinner

The Slaughters, Upper and Lower

Gloucestershire

Cotswold District

Like Moreton-in-Marsh, the Slaughters, Upper and Lower, do not have encouraging names, but they are actually a pair of Cotswold gems, stretched out along the little River Eye.

Upper Slaughter previously appeared in this blog in 2012 when we walked through Little Sodbury on the South West Odyssey. Little Sodbury is a ‘Thankful’ or ‘Blessed Village’, phrases coined in the 1930s for settlements that lost no servicemen in the First World War. A 2010 survey established that there were 54 civil parishes in England and Wales which were so ‘blessed’, three of them in Gloucestershire (none in Staffordshire). The only village in Gloucestershire to be ‘doubly blessed’ (i.e. 'blessed' in both World Wars) is Upper Slaughter – suggesting God has a macabre sense of humour.

Lynne in Lower Slaughter, a lovely village on a dire July day

In fact, the name derives not from death, destruction or abattoirs but from the Old English ‘Scolstre’ meaning a wet place or slough. I attended a preparatory school in Slough from 1958 to 1963. That much maligned town has changed a great deal since, but not then, not now, nor at any time in between has it ever remotely resembled the Slaughters.

The Lords of the Manor, Upper Slaughter

Dating from 1649, the building that now houses the Lords of the Manor Hotel in Upper Slaughter, was once much smaller. Unlike Chastleton House, its near contemporary, it has been frequently altered and extended, serving for a time as a rectory and becoming a hotel in 1972. The restaurant was awarded a Michelin star seven years ago and has retained it ever since. [The star was lost in 2019, though The Lords of the Manor still has 3 AA Rosettes. The struggle to win back the star continues but was not successful for 2020]

The Lords of the Manor, Upper Slaughter, The oldest part of the building

Dinner at The Lords of the Manor

Aperitifs and Canapés

We checked in, took a stroll, changed and arrived in the bar for aperitifs and canapés. They make a good dry martini, though not as good as the Sheraton in Hong Kong, though that may be impossible; my memory has enshrined that drink as the Platonic Ideal dry martini of which all others are inferior copies. After the unfortunate ‘drowning of the gin’ at our last wedding anniversary meal, Lynne was pleased that they left her to pour her tonic herself.

Our room, Lords of the Manor, Upper Slaughter

Canapés involved a mini-egg sized ball of smoked fish, which was good, a petite cylinder of paté shot through with hazelnut, surmounted by a little crisp disc and a nut, which was excellent, and a tiny chicken manifestation - I wish I could be more precise - which was spectacular.

The Lords of the Manor, Upper Slaughter, the modest original building has grown into this.
On another day we could have enjoyed our pre-dinner drinks outside, but even July cannot be trusted

We moved through to the restaurant, a newer wing at the back of the building.

Lords of the Manor, Upper Slaughter, the restaurant is in the extension on the left hand corner of the photo

Amuse-Bouche and Crab Starters

A tiny bowl of mushroom soup arrived - there was more to it than that, the well-informed waiter talked us through the details, but his accent was thick and I thought he mentioned peanuts. The mushroom flavour was intense, the texture warm and tongue-coating, and there did seem to be a peanut lurking in the depths, but exactly what it brought to the party was unclear.

Choosing from the five starters (two of which involved duck liver, not maybe as a main ingredient, but surely punching above its weight) we both selected crab. Professional restaurant critics don't do that, but I am only a blogger writing about a meal I paid for myself, and as we both fancied crab, we both had crab.

I last ate crab in a self-styled gastropub on the borders of Lancashire and Cumbria; it was utterly tasteless. The first nibble of the white meat of this Cornish crab was a revelation; it was fresh, it was clean, it was crabby (in a good way) and it tasted of the sea, a flavour echoed in the oyster cream. This was as good as crab gets. The tasty brown meat came in crisp little tubes which might once have been potato. Oscietra caviar sat on blobs of very different potato, a single fish egg on each of the four blobs. Oscietra retails at about £80 for 50 grams, at that price there should be enough on the plate to taste it, this was just wasted.

We drank the recommended wine, an Alsace Pinot Blanc. A smidgen off dry, with crisp, fragrant fruit, it was a fine partner to the crab. {David seems to have drawn the short straw here. Yes, there was very little caviar, but mine had several fish eggs on the blobs and I gathered them all up to eat together. Excellent, if miniscule. Lynne}

Mains of Pork and Guinea Fowl

Main course menu, Lords of the manor, Upper Slaughter

From the five choices of main course Lynne had guinea fowl, while I selected pork. I was disappointed when the food arrived. The guinea fowl involved sizeable slabs of meat and a little pile of vegetables but beside it my pork looked meagre, small islands of food adrift on a vast dark plate. I was unlikely to go hungry, but the disparity between the two plates struck a discordant note.

The two roundels of pork fillet were tender, with just enough texture and a delicate porky flavour. They sat on the sole vegetable, a couple of leaves of wilted spinach. The single cuboid of belly pork was much more gutsy, something to chew and crunch. The menu promised black pudding but I did not recognize that it in the little frustum of black jelly. The boudin, though, was in a different class, in fact the best thing on the plate; despite looking like a cocktail sausage it had a beguiling porky scent and a flavour which somehow contained the taste and soul of France. The smear of pork jus was just that - if there is going to be a sauce, let's have a sauce. Overall it was a plate with some delights, but disappointments too.

The Old Mill, Lower Slaughter

The recommended Loire Valley Malbec (isn't Malbec known as Côt on the Loire?) was well chosen; a lightish red, but well-built and full of fruit. It was not, though, half as good as the outstanding Austrian St Laurent that accompanied Lynne's guinea fowl. I have only come across this grape once before and that was a long time ago - I wish I had seen more of it.

Lynne had a good slab of breast meat, perfectly cooked and well flavoured, but it was the ‘croustillant of leg’ that was memorable, with a satisfying crunch and a rich confit flavour. Lynne, too, had a leaf of wilted spinach, but she also had some leek, the sort of baby turnips that made you realise why all Baldrick wanted was a little turnip of his own, and girolle mushrooms, the size and shape of the plastic studs used to cover the screws in flat-pack furniture but so full of themselves they demanded to be noticed.

Pre-Dessert, Dessert and Cheese

The pre-dessert was a thick glass bowl with a pleasant panna cotta at the bottom covered with orange-coloured granules. Mango and coconut were mentioned by the waiter, he may have mentioned freeze drying as well, though even after four courses I was no better attuned to his accent.

The strongly flavoured tiny 'micro-coriander' was probably unnecessary, but the sharp, tangy mango lingered on the tongue, and as it faded the flavour of toasted coconut kicked in. Mango and coconut are among my favourite foods and these strong flavours were just what I love. ‘I don't like that,’ said Lynne putting down her spoon. I thought she was referring to the coriander, which she dislikes, but then she said, 'The mango is too sharp for me.' ‘What a shame,’ I said, and ate hers too.

The village defibrillator, Upper Slaughter. Finding a use for a redundant red phone box.

The smallish pork course had the happy by-product of leaving space for cheese. I so often only have room for a dessert that slips down easily, but I had clocked the cheese trolley on the way in and judged it worthy of further examination.

Despite being over-faced last year by the cloying richness of the chocolate option at the Harrow in Little Bedwyn, Lynne backed hope over experience and chose chocolate again. If anything the Lords of the Manor erred in the other direction, but she was well pleased with her generous brick of white chocolate mousse, teamed with blobs of lavender cream, violet jelly and gold sprinkled raspberries.

On closer inspection the cheese trolley was as fine as I had thought, and made better by all the cheeses coming from Britain or Ireland. I have nothing against French cheeses – quite the opposite - but it is pleasing to know that the reborn craft cheese-making of these islands now produces the quality and variety to stock a first rate cheese trolley.

I chose four cheeses, the first two involving more than a nod towards France. Brie is a much abused word; most supermarket Brie is dull, under-ripe, factory produced and unworthy of the name. I avoid ‘Somerset Brie’, because if the manufacturers of France have forgotten how to make it, I doubt a factory in Somerset would be any more successful. I knew at first glance, however, that Simon Weaver's Brie-style cheese was something else. Startlingly white it oozed gently and the rind was cracked like ripe Brie de Meaux (a reliable name amid all the dross). Misshapen and slightly flattened this was no factory cheese - in fact it is made on Kirkham Farm in Lower Slaughter, solely from organic milk produced on the farm. It is also made from unpasteurised milk (and I don't know a really fine cheese that isn't). The French like to use the word ‘onctueux’ to describe such a cheese - it sound so much better than 'unctuous'. This was the most onctueux cheese it had been my privilege to eat for a long time.

Simon Weaver Brie

Isle of Avalon, confusingly made in Surrey, is based on the recipe for Port Salut - the favourite French cheese of people who do not like French cheeses. All the rind washing and extra maturing this was subjected to certainly improved it, but it never got far enough away from Port Salut for my taste.

The third cheese, a softish ewe's milk cheese with a slightly crumbly texture, was pleasant without being exciting, but my fourth choice took me back to the heights. Admiral Collingwood is a semi-soft cheese made from unpasteurized milk by Doddington Dairy in Northumberland. It is matured for seven months and the rind is washed in Newcastle Brown Ale. I used to drink Newky Brown in my youth, but gave it up long ago, now I have found the perfect use for it. It is claimed to give the cheese a unique tangy aftertaste - it does and it is wonderful.

Admiral Collingwood, Doddington Dairy, Northumberland

Back in the comfy seats in the bar we had a so-so cup of coffee, petit fours - nicely made sweeties - and an excellent glass of Calvados. And so ended this year's wedding anniversary dinner, and a fine dinner it had been, too. It was expensive, as such meals are, but then this is Michelin starred cooking and the high points were high indeed – as they should be at this level. There were a couple of disappointments too, as we have learnt to expect at one Michelin star level - there are two and even (should I ever be able to afford it) three star levels above this.

27/07/2015

Breakfast

Restaurants do not win Michelin stars for their breakfasts, but it is interesting to see what they do. Cereals are just cereals, but the fruit juices were fresh. Lynne had fried eggs, two of them cooked in a neat and tidy ring in butter, she prefers oil but that is a matter of taste. My scrambled egg was excellent, though not quite up to the standard of the Yorke Arms in Ramsgill (though that is beginning to take on the same mythical stature as the Hong Kong Sheraton martini). The mushroom - (half?!) a large field mushroom this time - had almost as much power as the girolles, and the bacon was of the quality you should expect in such an establishment. I hoped the black pudding would make up for one of yesterday's disappointments but although this time it was a proper slice, it had too much cereal and not enough blood and spice - I suppose that is what you get for eating black pudding this far south.

'Fine Dining' posts

Abergavenny and the Walnut Tree (2010)
Ludlow and La Bécasse (2011) (restaurant closed, post withdrawn)
Ilkley and The Box Tree(2012)
Pateley Bridge and the Yorke Arms (2013) (No longer a restaurant, post renamed Parceval Gardens and Pateley Br)
The Harrow at Little Bedwyn (2014)
The Slaughters and the Lords of the Manor (2015)
Loam, Fine Dining in Galway (2016)
Penarth and Restaurant James Sommerin (2017) (restaurant closed, post withdrawn. JS has a new restaurant in Penarth)
The Checkers, Montgomery (2017) (no longer a restaurant, post withdrawn. Now re-opened under new management)
Tyddyn Llan, Llandrillo, Denbighshire (2018)
Fischer's at Baslow Hall, Derbyshire (2019)
Hambleton Hall, Rutland (2021)
The Olive Tree, Queensberry Hotel, Bath (2022)
Dinner at Pensons near Tenbury Wells (2023) (restaurant closed Dec 2023, post withdrawn)

The Harrow at Little Bedwyn

A Top Class B&B and a Michelin Starred Dinner

The Mayfield at West Grafton

Wiltshire

Leaving the White Horse and Uffington Castle we drove to our B&B, Mayfield at West Grafton, a fifteen minute taxi ride from the main object of our day. I don't usually write much, or indeed anything, about the various B&Bs we stay in, but the Mayfield was a little bit different. Every village in North Wiltshire has a selection of thatched houses of the sort that once adorned chocolate boxes, and Mayfield is a fine example. The rambling old house – different parts look to have been built at different times - stands in extensive and beautifully maintained grounds. Angela and Chris Orssich are well-suited to the business, chatting easily with their guests and making everyone feel welcome – would that were true of everyone running a B&B. For the quality of the breakfast, skip to the very last paragraph.

Lynne outside Mayfield, West Grafton

The Harrow at Little Bedwyn

The Harrow at Little Bedwyn may once have been a country pub, and the tiny village is certainly buried deep in the north Wiltshire countryside, but it became a serious restaurant in 1998 when it was bought by Roger and Sue Jones. A Michelin star followed in 2006 and now the world beats a path to its door. Two of the four couples staying at Mayfield had come mainly (or entirely) to make the pilgrimage to Little Bedwyn, and that is not unusual. 'That place has brought a lot of trade to the area,' our taxi driver told us as he piloted us through the narrow lanes.[Unfortunately the Harow lost its Michelin star in 2019, it still has 3 AA Rosettes and one of the finest (and longest) wine lists in the country.]



Mayfield, West Grafton

The service was as slick and professional as you would expect at this level and although it was easy to see how the layout had once been that of a country pub, it has now evolved so far there is no longer bar space for a pre-dinner drink, which is offered at the table. The sound of ice in a cocktail shaker heralded a good dry martini (though I am still looking to match the perfection of the Hong Kong Sheraton), but Lynne's G&T was drowned; Tanqueray becomes indistinguishable from a supermarket’s own brand at this level of dilution.

As we pondered this shaky start we also pondered the menu. The seven course 'gastronomic menu' is too much food, I am no longer young and I can't eat the way I used to. I chose the four course tasting menu – which has five courses if you include the cheese option. Lynne picked three courses from the à la carte, and decided to share my cheese. Having taken the orders we were asked what time we had booked our return taxi so they could time the proceedings appropriately. It was a nice touch.

The award-winning wine list is huge – Dickens wrote shorter novels - but the menu suggests a wine to partner each course, mostly at a reasonable £6-£9 for a 125ml glass. Not wishing to reinvent the wheel, we went with their suggestions.

The amuse-bouche, self-deprecatingly described as 'Langoustine Soup', had so much rich Langoustine flavour, so intensely concentrated, that it brought a look of wonder to Lynne’s face. It was only four sips, but each caressed the palate and lingered lushly. Faced with a whole bowl it would have been overwhelming, but as an amuse-bouche in a tiny quantity it was perfect.

Lynne started with seared scallops, chorizo and pea purée with tiny peas. In Lynne's slightly idiosyncratic view a fresh scallop cooked with masterful restraint is perfect on its own and nothing can be gained by the addition of other flavours, so she ate this as two very small separate dishes and pronounced both excellent. I tasted them together and thought the accompaniment brought an extra dimension to the scallop. Each to his own.

My first course was described as ‘seared tuna - pickled watermelon, vine tomatoes and quails egg’ (yes, that should be quail's). The seared tuna was like the tuna that comes round the track at Yo Sushi, good enough but not memorable. The tiny egg was cool, but I cut into it and, miraculously, the yolk ran. I smeared it over the tuna and that was good. The selection of tomato halves looked like the cherry tomatoes you can buy anywhere, but there the resemblance ended. The sheer tomato-y intensity of the first was hard to believe, but there were more of them, each a different variety of tomato with its own individual flavor and all as wonderful as the first. There was also a sundried tomato. For a moment I considered sending it to the chef of our hotel in Dublin last month with the message, 'this is a sun dried tomato, my friend, not the slimy thing in your vegetarian pasta.' I thought about that but decided to eat it, instead. That leaves the cube of pickled watermelon. In a hot climate there is little pleasanter or more thirst quenching than fresh watermelon, but what does pickling add to it? And why was it on this plate? Beats me.

Both starters were accompanied by Jordan's Outlier, Sauvignon Blanc from Stellenbosch. The nose was fabulous, herbal and grassy like Sancerre rather than the tropical fruit of New Zealand. It was not quite so outstanding on the palate, being just a little short of acidity.

Jordan Outlier Sauvignon Blanc

My ‘extra’ course was, ‘grilled turbot, curried lobster’. The turbot, a small rectangle of fish, was, I thought, a tad overcooked and, like the tuna, all right but nothing more. The curried lobster underneath was a revelation, the sauce having an intense coconut flavour which lingered and deepened until the chilli kicked in. I have not encountered such concentrated coconut since the 'finger chutney' at Palakkad, but this was much more elegant and subtle. The lobster was reduced to being a vehicle for the sauce, but then I have always thought that lobster is overrated. Apart from its good looks and size, what does it have that a prawn hasn’t?

The accompanying 'Hen and Chickens' Chardonnay from Pemberton in Western Australia was, I am sorry to say, a little nondescript.

Lynne's main course was beef, a small slab of filet cooked rare as requested and in every way wonderful, surmounted by ring of pink foie gras. This morally dodgy delight was as delightful - and morally dodgy – as ever. Below the filet was a piece of slow cooked beef cheek. Very much the ‘odd meat of the moment’, it is apparently compulsory to include it somewhere on a Michelin star menu. Both of us will be happy when the fashion changes. To me it comes from the wrong end of the animal; ox tail, while similar, has better texture and a more delicate flavour.

Accompanying the beef was the most expensive wine of the evening. At £16 a glass the 2001 Glenmore, Margaret River Cabernet Sauvignon had to be good and it was, being deep, dark and with a hint of liquorice. 

After my extra courses, my lamb was more a meat course than a main. The nicely pink Welsh lamb made up in flavour for what it lacked in quantity. It was served with minted couscous (how do you get so much mintiness into a simple couscous?) and a couple of sprigs of sea asparagus - or samphire as I would normally call it.

The unfiltered South African merlot is top of the Fleur du Cap range and offered as much fruit as you could want, elegant tannin and a good weight in the mouth, it almost edged out the more the expensive cabernet.

Fleur du Cap Unfiltered Merlot

We shared the cheese course; five small slices allegedly arranged from mildest to strongest, but the goat cheese in the 'mildest' position packed a solid goaty punch. We could have quibbled about the order of the others, but why bother? One resembled a top quality brie, another had a washed rind, there was an excellent soft sheep's cheese and finally Royal Bassett Blue, surmounted by a slice of quince cheese. Remarkably, all these pungently mature, well-made cheeses are produced relatively locally. Such a line up would have been impossible only a few years ago. A nice glass of tawny port matched them perfectly.

Royal Basset Blue, made in Wiltshire

A pre-dessert called 'cherry trifle' and served in a sherry glass was a nice idea and looked good. I had watched others go by and was looking forward to it, but it was disappointingly dry, as though it had been sitting too long waiting for us.

My dessert was just described as 'chocolate' and Lynne chose the equivalent from the à la carte. It had many of the same elements, but had a fruit sorbet where mine had the tiniest blob of ice cream. I like chocolate (who doesn't?), but I know people who claim to love it and this may have suited them, but for both of us this was chocolate overkill. Some of the elements were exquisite, particularly the lozenge of tempered chocolate round a rich chocolate cream, but the white chocolate did not do much for me and the large cube of chocolate truffle was just too dense.

Lehman Botrytis Semillon was the wine selected to accompany this. With a honeyed nose and intense sweetness it may not be the subtlest of wines, but it stands up to the chocolate as few wines could.

And so our meal ended. We had seen ten different dishes, all exquisitely presented and all – the cherry trifle excepted – were sublime, or had elements that were sublime. Portions were small, but I ate four and a half courses, amuse-bouche and pre-dessert and that was certainly enough, maybe a little too much, which is just as it should be on these occasions.

We had also drunk enough, but that did not stop us crowning the evening with an espresso and a digestif. Lynne wisely selected an old favourite, a cognac from Ragnaud-Sabourin, while I went for Alchemy 15 yr old Somerset Brandy. I enjoy a good Calvados but had yet to try the British equivalent. It was £8 for 25ml and £10 for a double, so I thought 'Oh goodie, a bargain.' I should have thought  'why they were trying to get rid of it?'. Somerset brandy does not, I am sorry to say, have much apple flavour and it was rather like a bottom of the range Armagnac, which is not a bad thing, but nor is it great. [Update: I have drunk other Somerset Apple Brandies since, and some can be very good indeed - and very apple-y.]

Lynne leaves the Harrow at Little Bedwyn

The timing had been perfect and we were all finished at exactly the time the taxi came to fetch us.

And now back to Mayfield B&B. Having praised them at the start I shall finish by mentioning their breakfast. As at the Harrow, the menu tells you the source of everything and the food-miles are minimal 'the bacon and sausages come from two fields away'. I had smoked salmon (the salmon could not be local, but the smokehouse is) and scrambled eggs. The eggs were light and creamy, the fish gently smoked. Angela makes her own bread (from flour grown and ground locally) and all her own jams and marmalade. As a B&B it is a touch more expensive than most (though not by much) but - and the same is true of the Harrow - you have to pay for a bit of quality.
 

'Fine Dining' posts

Abergavenny and the Walnut Tree (2010)
Ludlow and La Bécasse (2011) (restaurant closed, post withdrawn)
Ilkley and The Box Tree(2012)
Pateley Bridge and the Yorke Arms (2013) (No longer a restaurant, post renamed Parceval Gardens and Pateley Br)
The Harrow at Little Bedwyn (2014)
The Slaughters and the Lords of the Manor (2015)
Loam, Fine Dining in Galway (2016)
Penarth and Restaurant James Sommerin (2017) (restaurant closed, post withdrawn. JS has a new restaurant in Penarth)
The Checkers, Montgomery (2017) (no longer a restaurant, post withdrawn. Now re-opened under new management)
Tyddyn Llan, Llandrillo, Denbighshire (2018)
Fischer's at Baslow Hall, Derbyshire (2019)
Hambleton Hall, Rutland (2021)
The Olive Tree, Queensberry Hotel, Bath (2022)
Dinner at Pensons near Tenbury Wells (2023) (restaurant closed Dec 2023, post withdrawn)