Kenilworth: Dining at The Cross and Gawping at the Castle

A Castle and a Restaurant Review

Kenilworth: The Where and The What

Warwickshire

Warwick District

Kenilworth (pop:22,000) is a market town in the Warwick district of Warwickshire. It is a pleasant, compact place surrounded by lush green countryside, or so it feels. But just beyond the fields to the north is the Metropolitan Borough of Coventry, and to the south are Leamington and Warwick, separate municipalities divided only by the width of the river Avon. Kenilworth is no isolated country town.

Warwickshire

Kenilworth: The Why

To the northwest, though the map does not show it, is a rural portion of the Metropolitan Borough of Solihull, the least urban, some might say the most pleasant, of the West Midlands' seven metropolitan boroughs. Lynne and I were married in Solihull’s Parish Church of St Alphege on the 26th of July 1975. So today is our 49th wedding anniversary.

Our habit of many years is to visit somewhere pleasant with a renowned restaurant and enjoy what we hope will be an outstanding dinner. This year’s chosen venue was the Michelin starred The Cross in Kenilworth. But Kenilworth is also home to a large and in some ways unusual castle, so it would be odd not to visit while it was nearby.

Kenilworth Castle

Such elegant ruins

Kenilworth Castle is a unique collection of structures, built in the local red sandstone over a period of 500 years. Here is a breathlessly brief history of its construction

In 1120 Roger de Clinton, Henry I’s chancellor, turned an existing Norman keep into a strong tower. King John added an outer wall in the early 1200s and dammed two brooks to create a mere defending two thirds the castle perimeter. In the 1300s John of Gaunt built the middle range. In the 1550s John Dudley widened the tilt yard and built the stable block. A decade later his son Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester built the massive Leicester Tower and the Italian Garden. Like most English castles Kenilworth was ‘slighted’ after the Civil War. In 1649, just before the slighting the London based Bohemian etcher and artist Wenceslaus Hollar drew a plan of the castle which is still useful.

Wenceslaus Tollar's plan of Kenilworth Castle (property of Toronto University)

Had I attempted to take the photograph below any time between 1200 and 1700, I would have been standing in the mere – and, of course, I would have no camera.

King John's Curtain Wall and the surviving main buildings, Kenilworth Castle

From the mere we made our way up to the tiltyard (24 on Hollar’s Plan). This is the top of the dam that created the mere, levelled and widened for use in jousting. At the end of the tiltyard, we entered the castle through what remains of Mortimer’s Tower (23). Inside we turned right and descended to John Dudley’s stable block (6)….

Stable block (photographed from the left, though we approached from the right)

..not because we are interested in Tudor horse accommodation, but because it is now the café. It was lunchtime and cup of tea and a cheese scone felt a appropriate. It also gave us the opportunity to marvel at the carpentry of the wooden roof.

Stableblock roof

Fed and watered we walked up across the base court (22) to look at the main buildings.

Main Buildings, Kenilworth Castle

On the right is Roger de Clinton’s tower, buildings 16 and 20 have gone, John of Gaunt’s Mid-Range (14 and 17) can be seen further back and the Leicester Tower (21) is on the left. Although the building stone remained unchanged, the architecture did not. Clinton’s Tower originally had arrow slits but no windows; windows were weaknesses, and as glass was unavailable, they also opened the interior to the elements. John of Gaunt’s 14th century buildings had glass windows like the those seen in churches of that date and signify the start of the change from castle to palace. The Leicester Tower had glass from floor to ceiling on every storey, the cost was stupendous, but Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester was a man on a mission: to marry Elizabeth I. The queen, maybe, encouraged his ambition, though she never would marry him, nor anyone else. She visited in 1566 and again in 1568; between visits he completed the tower so she could stay in surroundings as luxurious as any palace in the world. That would win her, he thought.

Clinton’s stronghold acquired some windows over the centuries…

Outside Clinton's Tower

…and the medieval hard man would have been shocked by the view from the northern side.

Looking north from Clinton's Tower

The Italian Garden was part of Robert Dudley’s campaign for the queen’s hand.

There is a better view from an unremarkable and wall-less room up a small flight of steps.

The Italian Garden from the room where Edward II abdicated

Here, on the 20th of January 1327 the serially incompetent Edward II was told to abdicate in favour of his 14-year-old son Edward III, while Edward II’s wife, Isabella of France and her lover Roger Mortimer were appointed regents. He objected, but nobody listened.

Edward II was held here for a few months, then taken to Berkeley Castle in Gloucestershire where he was murdered. Three years later, Edward III overthrew his mother and Mortimer, as any stroppy teenager would. He had Mortimer executed, while Isabella (who was only 35) settled for a long and interesting retirement at Castle Rising in Norfolk (we visited in 2022).

From the Inner Court (15) we entered the kitchens (12) where modern stairs took us into a tower….

Looking down on the kitchen

…from where we could look into John of Gaunt’s Great Hall. The ground floor was for storage and servants, the hall itself was above that, but the floor has gone.

The Grand Hall was on this level but there is no floor

John of Gaunt was a younger son of Edward III (r 1327 – 1377) whose oldest son, Edward the Black Prince predeceased his father, so his son, thus became King Richard II on the death of his grandfather. Twenty-two years later John of Gaunt’s son usurped the throne and became Henry IV (r 1399-1413). His son became Henry V.

Henry V made a speculative claim on the throne of France and in reply the Dauphin sent him a chest of tennis balls, a way of saying, ‘run off and play, sonny.’ The chest was opened in this very hall. The insult led to Henry leading a major incursion into France and winning the Battle of Agincourt, though he never did become King of France. The tennis ball story features in Shakespeare’s Henry V and was taught as fact when I was young. It is now thought to be ‘fake news.’

The windows are worth looking at, the style intermediate between those eventually put in Clinton’s Tower and the windows of the Leicester Tower.

The Grand Hall windows

There is little to see in the Leicester tower but Hardwick Hall in Derbyshire, built so 30 years later shows what the Tudors could do with glass – and it’s not a ruin. We visited 2018.

We left the castle and checked into our B&B a short drive away

The Cross, New Street Kenilworth

Tradition dictates that choosing the restaurant is my job, and Lynne remains in the dark about our destination until we get there. The criteria for choosing I will keep to myself, but after a couple of years of tasting menus with so many courses we started to flag, I was looking for a restaurant offering an old fashioned three course meal. The Cross does that - and offers a six-course tasting menu for those younger and stronger than us.

Kenilworth is also only an hour’s drive from home, and there was a suitable B&B a conveniently short walk from the restaurant. That walk took us from the High Street, where there are several restaurants, into the less promising New Street.

Walking to The Cross

Andreas Antona opened Simpson’s in Edgbaston in 1993. Four years later it became Birmingham’s first Michelin starred restaurant. In 2013 he asked Simpson’s head chef Adam Bennett to become chef-director of The Cross, his new venture. A year or so later The Cross won a Michelin star and has maintained it ever since.

According to their website The Cross is housed in a Grade II listed 19th-century inn. It also says the main dining room is a former school room and the bar was previously a butcher's shop. Whether the inn came before the schoolroom/butcher’s or after is not vouchsafed.

Aperitif and Canapés

We did not bother with the bar, the evening was still warm so we enjoyed our drink and nibbles outside.

From the extensive gin list, we chose Kenilworth Heritage gin, because it is local and we had seen it on sale (for a hefty price) in the castle gift shop. Despite it being a) artisan and b) expensive, neither of us liked it very much.

What an enormous G & T!

The canapés were a treat for the eyes…

Canapés, The Cross, Kenilworth

…but good looks are not everything.

Despite its tiny nasturtium leaf, a mini-croque monsieur is just a cheese and ham toastie. Although nicely made and beautifully presented the ingredients were uninspiring.

The beetroot in the spoon is an example of the chef-y technique of spherification. The idea is that the largish bubble of liquid beetroot should burst in the mouth with satisfying consequences. Lynne liked it, I liked the idea but would have preferred almost any other fruit of vegetable. Lynne was also delighted by the tiny contrivance on top, a herb with something to crunch. She thought it was bursting with flavour, I was unconvinced.

The filo basket of tiny chopped potato topped by goat curd was a pleasing little mouthful.

Lynne’s Starter

Broth of Devon White Chicken, roast winglet, new seasons onions, broad beans, tarragon.

A large soup bowl arrived, empty but for a small hill if vegetables covering the winglets (what part of a chicken is that?). The broth came in a separate jug and the waiter poured it round and eventually over the vegetables.

Broth of Devon white chicken, The Cross, Kenilworth

More than a touch of theatre is required to turn soup of the day (chicken and vegetable) into a Michelin starred dish, but it helps. The deep, rich intensity of the broth did the rest, and the tarragon worked its usual magic with the chicken.

My Starter

Tartar of Beef, soy pickled mushrooms, radish salad, yeast crumb and mushroom ketchup.

Inside every man hides a blood smeared hunter. Such an atavistic monster even lurks behind my kindly elderly gent façade so I need to be thrown a slab of raw meat every now and then.

In this case though, the raw meat was not a slab, and instead of being thrown it was elegantly presented, hiding beneath a radish salad. There was little added to the finely chopped fillet steak, a little seasoning and something, I know not what, that bound it nicely together.

Beef tartar, The Cross, Kenilworth

In his ‘French Odyssey’ Rick Stein wrote I noticed in France that steak tartare has become fashionable once more, so I hope it catches on again here in Britain. I suppose the idea of raw meat is a bit hard to take for some people, but it’s always struck me as completely lovely. Hear, hear. I loved the steak, I loved the tiny pickled mushrooms and the blobs of mushroom ketchup, I even loved the radish - and the yeast crumb provided a different crunch to make the dish complete.

Bread

Around this point in all restaurants of this ilk, some bread appears, baked on-site or by a local artisan baker, accompanied by a special butter. I am not sure why I am expected to want bread and butter at this stage of a meal. I had a piece to see if it was good, and it was truly excellent, but I could eat no more.

Bread and butter, The Cross, Kenilworth

Wine

Beef tartar demanded red, so I ordered a glass of Rioja. The rest of our meal wanted white and choosing a bottle from the long (and sometimes expensive) list required thoughtful browsing. Among the often-underrated wines of Portugal I spotted a Bucelas. When Portugal was too poor to care much about quality wines, Bucelas, near Lisbon was one the few designated quality areas. It was popular in Victorian England but more recently, many of its vineyards disappeared under Lisbon’s urban sprawl. Lower production makes it hard to find, even in Portugal, but it remains good and I was delighted to see a bottle at an affordable price.

Main Course

Cornish John Dory, baby gem lettuce, peas, girolle mushrooms and bacon, parsley, new potatoes, chicken jus with lemon thyme.

We both chose the John Dory which, like every dish at The Cross was beautifully presented.

John Dory, and more. The Cross, Kenilworth

John Dory is coastal fish that can be found around every continent except the Americas and Antarctica. It is not landed in any great quantity being a by-catch of other fisheries. Many of those that are caught find their way to the upper end of the restaurant business. Its flesh is very white, surprisingly flaky for a small fish and very tasty.

It was surrounded by the sort of peas that remind you how much better fresh peas are than frozen, bacon that was crisped and almost sweet, and girolles with a remarkably powerful flavour that pleased me but not Lynne. All was moistened by a chicken jus and everything came together better than I had thought possible. It was a delightful dish, but the John Dory, announced as the star, just became part of an ensemble. Does that matter? Probably not.

Lynne’s Dessert

Hazelnut soufflé, praline sauce, Chantilly cream,

Who does not like a good soufflé? The praline sauce was poured into a hole dug into the top and the Chantilly cream came in a separate bowl - which Lynne perversely ignored.

Hazelnut soufflé and praline sauce

Impressed by the nuttiness, Lynne was more than happy with her soufflé. I ate the world’s finest souffle at Hambleton Hall in 2021, so I feel there is no point me trying another - what if I was proved wrong? I must look after my ego. Fortunately, after only two courses and a very little bread I felt strong enough to tackle the cheeseboard

Cheese

As has now become almost universal, all the cheeses were English artisan products. From left to right they are: Tunworth, Double Barrel Poacher, Ashcombe, Brightwell Ash and Shropshire Blue.

Cheeseboard

I am familiar with Tunworth, a Hampshire version of Camembert. It is excellent when eaten ripe, and this example was fully ripe with well-developed flavours of mushrooms and cowshed.

I am also familiar with Lincolnshire Poacher made by Simon Jones at his dairy farm in the Lincolnshire Wolds. His recipe owes something to both Farmhouse Cheddar and Comté.  The regular Poacher is matured for 14 to 16 months, the Double Barrel gets 2 to 3 years. Powerful stuff.

Kindly elderly gent eats cheese

Ashcombe is a Cotswold version of Morbier, with is distinctive band of ash. This excited me less.

As did the Brightwell Ash. Made in Berkshire, it is a soft, ash coated goat’s cheese. I have a prejudice against cheese that is spreadable, and I would have liked a goatier flavour.

Despite its name, Shropshire Blue is made by several producers in Nottinghamshire. Some of those producers also make Stilton, which I wish this was.

All cheeseboards are a compromise, so a partial success is as good as it gets, but I was a little disappointed by this selection – a kindly elderly gent can become a grumpy old git and be difficult to please, sorry.

Petits Fours etc

That leaves just coffee and petits fours…

Petits Fours

…and a recognition of the occasion.

Thank you to the Cross

And Finally

We enjoyed our evening, indeed our whole day. The meal was excellent, the flavours, the combinations and the presentation were all well thought through and executed. There were no meaningful low points, but neither were there moments that took the breath away, no horseradish ice-cream, no scallop, wasabi and apple granita. We would have liked such a moment, but maybe that is being greedy.

'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 Cross, Kenilworth (& Kenilworth Castle) 2024

Eating Aldeburgh

Finding Good Food on the Suffolk Coast

Introduction

Suffolk

Aldeburgh

This post differs from the similarly named posts for Malta, Madeira and elsewhere. There we read dozens of menus to see what local people ate, or at least the version of it restaurateurs wish to present to visitors, and then set about eating it

We did our research for those posts in Valletta and Funchal, both orders of magnitude larger than the small Suffolk coastal town of Aldeburgh (pop: just over 2,000). We did read the menus of Aldeburgh’s small clutch of restaurants and although they presented a cross-section of modern British restaurants – far better and more diverse than they were thirty or forty years ago – there was little uniquely Suffolk about them, so we had to look elsewhere.

Suffolk with Aldeburgh (underlined) and the position of Suffolk in England (inset)

The people of Aldeburgh and their visitors obviously care about good food. They have, I am delighted to report, no McDonald's, Burger King, KCF, Domino’s or Starbucks, but instead there is an artisan butcher’s, a bakery or two, a specialist cheesemonger and several independent coffee shops (plus the inevitable supermarket). They also have one local speciality which marks out the town - the fish shacks.

The Fish Shacks

Aldeburgh’s pebble beach is not much use to the bucket and spade brigade, but is good for landing the catch from small fishing boats. Much of that catch finds its way to the line of sheds along the top of the beach

Fish shacks, Aldeburgh

These are not officially called the ‘fish shacks,’ but the name seems appropriate. From this angle they look rather down-at-heal, but that is misleading. Aldeburgh is an affluent little town and these sheds deal in the finest and freshest fish available – and charge accordingly.

Smoked Fish

A couple of them specialise in smoked fish, and this was there we headed on our first morning.

Smoked fish shack

We bought some smoked haddock paté. Which made a pleasant lunch…

Smoked haddock paté, toast and a salad

…and some hot-smoked eel. Hot-smoking is carried out between 74° and 85°C. The fish cooks during the process, resulting in stronger smoky flavour and a firm, moist texture. Cold-smoking is done between 20° and 30° and the fish requires curing with salt afterwards.

The eel looked like a length sawn from a policeman’s truncheon, but the advice given was to cut it in rounds between the vertebrae and removed the leathery skin with a sharp knife. This worked and we gently warmed the resulting discs and served them with buttered boiled potatoes and the last spears of the English asparagus season. And very good it was, too.

Smoked eel, boiled potatoes and asparagus

Fresh Fish

On our final day, we returned to the shacks, browsing for a fish.

An Aldeburgh fish shack

At a shack – not the one photographed – we spied a Dover sole. Big enough to feed two, it was eye-wateringly expensive, because Dover sole is, but we could not resist it.

It was a whole fish, so Lynne decided she needed some advice about preparation. The internet was, as ever, full of suggestions, but it would be a remarkable holiday cottage which supplied the sort of knives needed to fillet the fish raw.

Fortunately, Rick Stein had a practical solution. First, remove the skin. A nick near the tail starts the process…

A nick by the tale starts the process

…and each side comes off in one piece, just as Rick promised. This allows you to deal with the guts which largely sit just behind the head.

Pealing off the skin

Then dust with flour and pan-fry it whole - if your pan is big enough. Even after removing the head, a cut across the fish was necessary to make it fit our pan. Fillet after cooking…

Filleting the cooked sole

…then serve with crushed new potatoes and locally picked samphire.

Dover sole with crushed new potatoes and samphire

Thank you, Lynne (and Rick).

Restaurant Fish

Take Away

Our attempt to eat out on Wednesday ended in failure. We had not booked, every table in the restaurant was occupied and we were turned away with apologies. Time for Plan B.

I earlier listed the fast-food abominations Aldeburgh does not have, and nowhere did I mention a chip shop. I give fish and chips a pass because they are deeply embedded in British food culture, and because they are almost all independent, there are no vast chains of franchised identikit fish and chip shops.

That said, I cannot remember the last time I was in a chippy, but it was years, maybe decades ago. Aldeburgh has two, both under the same management, and one, the Golden Galleon, was 50m from our front door.

The Golden Galleon, Aldeburgh. Our home for the week was up the alley to the left of the chippy

Inside it was bright, clean and did not smell of stale frying. Although there were, as always, other accompaniments we ordered cod and mushy peas with the inevitable chips, took them home and ate them from the chip papers.

Lynne with her fish and chips

The batter was crisp, light and golden, the fish huge and flaky and the chips fresh and not even slightly soggy – and that is as good as it gets.

Eating Out

We returned to our original choice of restaurant two days later, this time with a reservation.

Lynne was disappointed that the red mullet was finished, but instead chose the Catch of the Day, a pleasing plump, fresh plaice that arrived, lurking beneath a bed of capers. She was pleased with her alternative choice.

A nice piece of plaice

Lobster Thermidor is a somewhat dated symbol of luxurious, even extravagant dining.

Thermidor (19 July to 17 August) was the ‘Heat month’ of the French Revolutionary Calendar. Despite their richly descriptive names – Brumaire (Fog month 22 Oct to 20 Nov), Floréal (Flower month, 20 April – 19 May) – the Calendar did not catch on and was abandoned by Napoleon in 1805.

Created in Paris in the 1890s, Lobster Thermidor involved freshly boiled lobster being taken from its shell, shredded and incorporated into a sauce based on onions, mustard, wine, brandy and cream. It is then replaced in the shell, covered with grated Gruyère and popped under a grill until the cheese has melted.

There was no Lobster Thermidor on the menu, but this coast is best known for its crabs, so they had a Crab Thermidor. Maybe it was a bit tongue-in-cheek, and I ordered it with a sense of irony, but it was excellent. Lynne objects to ‘fish that has been messed about’ and although I am less purist, I expected the rich, complex sauce and the cheese to drown out the delicate flavour of crab, but not so, instead they worked together. It was nicely presented, though the salad dressing had a sweetness I could have done without.

Crab thermidor

Having skipped the starter, I was pleased to find I could manage a dessert. I chose the vanilla pannacotta, with rhubarb poached in vodka and shortbread crumb.

Vanilla pannacotta

The pannacotta wobbled nicely, though it may have been too wobbly, but that is erring on the right side. It also tasted of vanilla - I am always pleased when ‘vanilla’ really means ‘vanilla’ and is not being used as a synonym for ‘plain.’ I am unsure why vodka was involved; it hardly added to the flavour. The shortbread crumb provided a pleasing extra texture

An East Anglian Lunch

Not everything is about fish. We ate a lunch using ingredients culled from the specialist local shops where every item was, if not from Suffolk, at least from East Anglia – except the butter, which was sold as being just ‘British.’

An East Anglian lunch

The sourdough bread is from the bakery round the corner.

The tomatoes were supermarket bought in Staffordshire, but were (coincidently) grown in Cambridgeshire.

The cheese top left on the board is Wensum White, an artisan goat’s cheese made at Fielding Cottage on the Steggles family farm near Honingham, just west of Norwich. It is a mild, semi-soft cheese, often described as a ‘goat brie,’ though I find that confusing. It has a delicate flavour and a sumptuous texture. The name comes from the River Wensum which winds its way across Norfolk and through Norwich.

Baron Bigod (pronounced By God, by some, and Bigg-od by others) is made at Fen Farm near Bungay, on Suffolk's northern edge. Made using a Brie-de-Meaux recipe Baron Bigod has a silky breakdown under the rind and balances a clean lactic brightness with mushroomy, vegetal notes (Neal’s Yard Dairy). I always enjoy Brie-de-Meaux and Baron Bigod is as good as any, and better than most. It is surely one of the best cheeses made in England.

Digression alert! Last November we lunched at ‘Pick and Cheese’ at Seven Dials in London, where I had the privilege of tasting Truffle Baron Bigod, the same cheese with a layer of truffle infused ricotta.

Baron Bigod is expensive, the truffled version is, in Lynne’s words, extravagant. As she does not like truffles, I fear I cannot justify such extravagance.

Truffled Baron Bigod, Pick and Cheese

​

Digression over.

The sausage is a Suffolk chorizo. In 2019 we visited the Countryfile Live exhibition at Blenheim in Oxfordshire where we encountered the prize-winning Suffolk Salami Company in the British charcuterie tent.

Lane Farm Foods, Countryfile Live

Everything they produce is made at Lane farm in the village of Brundish, 20Kkm, as the crow flies, northwest of Aldeburgh. They make their chorizo with DOP Pimentón de la Vera paprika, a smoked paprika imported from Spain, but otherwise ingredients are local. It is smaller in circumference and more densely packed with pork than the mass-produced chorizo imported by supermarkets. Whether Spanish artisan chorizo’s are like this I do not know, but it matters not. This is a spicy, meaty delight and encouraged us to return to the shop and acquire a fennel salami to take home.

And In Conclusion….

We ate many other things during our stay, which were not particularly Suffolk, including an excellent pair of Barnsley chops from the local artisan butcher. There were also several, ‘cup-of-tea-and-a-sandwich lunches, and an occasionally beer and a packet of crisps. After all the food, I should mention that Suffolk is home to the excellent Adnam’s Brewery - and half a dozen or more wineries. We might possibly investigate those another time.

And we did not just eat. We visited castles and Anglo-Saxon burial grounds, old churches, local museums and more, as can be found in the other Aldeburgh post (coming soonish)

East Sussex (4) Rottingdean and The Devil's Dyke

A Seaside Village and a Geological Oddity

Although we now live 220 miles apart, I have seen more of my sister Erica in the last few years than for a long time. That is good, I enjoy her company and that of Peter, her new(ish) husband. We went to stay for a few days and this post covers the places we visited.

East Sussex

Peter and Erica live in Heathfield, pretty much in the centre of East Sussex. On previous visits we have explored the east of the county (links at end of post), this time we looked west. Lewes (next post), the County Town of East Sussex can be seen on the map southwest of Heathfield and continuing in the same direction brings you to the coast at Rottingdean

The County of East Sussex
Heathfield to Rottingdean is approximately 25 miles (40 km)

The map misleadingly shows Brighton and Hove as discrete dots. They are much larger than that and in 1997 were combined as a single unitary authority. In January 2001 they became the City of Brighton and Hove. By far the largest population centre in East Sussex, the city has 275,00 citizens and occupies the whole south west corner of the county, encompassing Portslade, Patcham and Rottingdean.

Rottingdean

Brighton & Hove

In the Kingdom of the South Saxons (now ‘Sussex’) in the late 5th century CE a group of Saxons following a man called Rota settled near the coast at the end of a dry valley, probably displacing the previous Romano-British inhabitants. The dean (valley) of the people of Rota had become Rotingeden in the Domesday Book (1086) and tried out various spellings over subsequent centuries before settling on Rottingdean. Yes, they had choices, and they chose Rottingdean!

Despite its name, Rottingdean is a pretty village in the local style…

Rottingdean

…with vernacular buildings of various ages sitting harmoniously together, though perhaps not looking their best on a cold, blustery February day.

Rottingdean

The main street ends at the beach where a seething, angry sea with an evident desire to invade the land, was thwarted only by a vicious undertow.

Rottingdean Beach

An undercliff path heads off to Brighton Marina, 3km away, and on a better day….

Rottingdean Undercliff Walk

The Grange

But it was not a better day so we headed inland. Rottingdean has more than just vernacular architecture, The Grange was built to replace the existing vicarage in the mid-1700s.

The Grange, Rottingdean

The Reverend Thomas Hooker lived here from 1792 to 1838. A popular and charismatic figure, he established the first village school and supported his parishioners in any way he could. Tea and brandy were highly taxed, and after a bad harvest the poor could make enough money to survive by smuggling these commodities into the country for the benefit if their richer neighbours. The Rev Hooker acted as an outrider for the local smuggling gang.

The Grange passed into private hands in the late 1800s, just as Rottingdean was becoming an artistic colony. In 1920 the owners employed Sir Edwyn Lutyens to enlarge and remodel the house, and Gertrude Jekyll to redesign the garden.

In 1992, a charity now called Rottingdean Heritage took over The Grange and maintain the building as a local museum. Unfortunately, the museum is closed on a Tuesday, but I am assured it is excellent on other days of the week.

St Margaret's Church

Built on the site of an earlier Saxon church, St Margaret’s dates from around 1400 with a heavy makeover by Sir George Gilbert Scott in 1856. Like many churches locally and elsewhere in south east England it is built of flint with a stone dressing.

St Margaret's Rottingdean

The church is not particularly memorable, inside or out….

St Margaret's Interior

… except for the stained-glass windows designed by Edward Burne-Jones and built by William Morris. 

William Morris/Edward Burne-Jones stained glass

Burne-Jones was among the first artists to move to Rottingdean, and his ashes are interred in St Margaret’s cemetery, as are those of his wife Georgiana. Georgiana was one of the four remarkable Macdonald sisters; Alice was the mother of Rudyard Kipling, Agnes was a talented pianist and married Edward Poynter, later President of the Royal Academy, and Louisa was a writer and the mother of future prime minster Stanley Baldwin. What they could have achieved in their own right if women were less constrained can only be guessed at.

Peter, who has a wide musical taste and knowledge, was keen to tell us that Gary Moore is also buried here. Who he? I asked. Gary Moore (1953-2011) was an Irish blues/jazz/rock guitarist who might have achieved more success if he had decided which sort of music he wanted to play. He worked with Phil Lynott and was best known for repeatedly joining and then leaving Thin Lizzy.

Edward Burne-Jones and Rudyard Kipling

In 1880 Edward and Georgiana Burne-Jones brought Prospect House, the left-hand property of the trio below as a holiday home. Shortly afterwards they bought Aubrey Cottage, the middle dwelling, knocked the two together and renamed them North End House. They divided their time between Rottingdean and London until Burne-Jones died in 1898. Georgiana died in 1920, and in 1923 the new owners of North End House, Sir Roderick Jones and his wife, novelist Enid Bagnold, added Gothic Cottage on the right to the other two.

North End House, Rottingdean

They are now separate properties again with the former Gothic Cottage inappropriately named North End House.

In 1897, their nephew, Rudyard Kipling moved to Rottingdean and rented The Elms, a difficult house to photograph.

The Elms, Rottingdean

Kipling’s Garden is lovingly tended by volunteers...

Kipling's Garden, Rottingdean

… and is adjacent to Rottingdean Croquet club. I know of no other village with a croquet club.

Rottingdean Croquet Club

In 1902 the Kiplings moved to Batemans, some 30 miles away, where they spent the rest of their lives. Batemans features in East Sussex (2): Batemans, Firle Beacon and the Long Man of Wilmington.

Those who looked closely at the photos (i.e. almost nobody) might have noticed the walls in the churchyard, Kipling's Garden and several ordinary houses. Such walls are common in these parts but I have not seen anything quite like them elsewhere - perhaps they are unique to Sussex.

A closer look at a Sussex wall

The Devil’s Dyke

West Sussex

Mid Sussex District

Driving north and west around Brighton and Hove brought us to the Devil’s Dyke, just over the boundary into West Sussex. The South Downs are a range of low, rounded chalk hills stretching across East and West Sussex and into Hampshire. 1,627 km² (628 sq miles) of these hills were designated a National Park in 2010. Earlier national parks consisted of rugged terrain, but the South Downs are welcoming, well-mannered hillsides, as would be expected in the genteel south east of England.

The South Downs National Park with Brighton & Hove and the Devil's Dyke Marked
Map by Nilfanion using OS OpenData

The Devil’s Dyke Today

The road climbs onto a scarp, not quite at the southern edge of the downs. There was drizzle in the air and a cold blustery wind, so we moved swiftly from car to pub (the Devil’s Dyke, obviously) where a light lunch seemed appropriate.

Then we had to face the rigours of sight-seeing. Looking down the scarp, there should be (I think) a view all the way to the sea, but not today.

Looking towards the sea, though visibility was limited

The Devil’s Dyke itself is a steep sided dry valley on the other side of the scarp. It may not be the Grand Canyon, but it is a fair sized hole.

The Devil's Dyke

Given that the surrounding hills are not of great height and scarps are only of moderate steepness what happened here? The official answer is that it dates from the end of the last ice age, but was created by meltwater running over saturated chalk rather than carved by ice. The thaw-freeze cycle as the world began to warm reduced the chalk to mush and the meltwater swept it away. That sounds convincing, but the whole of the South Downs is made of chalk, if it happened here, why did it not happen everywhere and level the hills?

The Devil’s Dyke 120 Years Ago

Big game hunter and traveller H.J. Hubbard bought the Dyke Estate in 1892. The London, Brighton and South Coast Railway had built a branch line from Hove to the foot of the scarp in 1887, so he decided to turn Devil’s Dyke into what may have been the world’s first theme park.

He built a camera obscura, fairground rides, an observatory, two bandstands and more. The venture was phenomenally successful and on August Bank Holiday 1893, 30,000 people visited the Dyke.

In 1894 Hubbard opened the country’s first cable car to allow visitors to swing from one side of the dyke to the other 200ft above the valley floor. Three years later he added a funicular railway down into the dyke.

Funicular Railway, Devil's Dyke (Public Domain)

Success is ever ephemeral. In 1909 both the cable car and funicular railway ceased operation. Now there are just concrete footings to be seen and the remains of some of the amusements

Some of Hubbard's remains

The Devil’s Dyke Folk Lore

As I do not fully understand the geological creation of the dyke (my fault, not doubt), here is an alternative story. In the late 7th century, long after Rota had become established in his dean, the Kingdom of Sussex converted to Christianity. Being the last of the Anglo-Saxon kingdoms to convert, it caused the Devil much heartache. He decided to dig a channel from the sea to the heart of Sussex and drown its inhabitants.

Seeing the Devil making steady progress with his scheme, the holy hermit Cuthman of Steyning approached the Devil with a wager. If the Devil could complete his channel in one night, he could have Cuthman’s soul, if not he would go away and leave Sussex in peace.

St Cuthman of Steyning, by Penny Reeve (2000)
Photo:NeddySeagoon, used under Creative Commons

The Devil set to with a will, his mighty spade throwing up the surrounding hills, Chanctonbury Ring, Firle Beacon (see East Sussex (2)) and more while one spectacular heave sent the land that is now the Isle of Wight spinning into the sea. Cuthman bided his time. At midnight he lit a candle and placed it in his window, thus persuading the local cockerels that dawn had arrived. They started crowing, and the Devil, thinking he had lost his wager, threw down his shovel and stalked off for a massive sulk.

That is not very convincing, I struggle to believe the Devil was that easy to fool. If you click on Kanyakumari, my post about the southernmost town of India, you will find the story of Shiva being tricked out of marriage by the same device. Folk tales have a charming naivety, but finding very similar stories from so far apart, maybe tells us something about human nature.

Two humps in the bottom of the valley are said to be the graves of the Devil and his wife (who knew he was married?) Encouraging as it might be to know that the Devil is dead, the bad news is that he would be brought to life should anyone run backward five times round the humps while holding their breath. I don’t think I’ll fret about it.

That was enough sight-seeing in this weather; we got into a nice warm car, and Peter drove us back to Heathfield.

East Sussex

Part 1:Bodiam and Rye (2020)
Part 2:Bateman's, Firle Beacon and the Long Man of Wilmington (2021)
Part 3: Battle and Hastings (2021)
Part 4: Rottingdean and The Devil's Dyke
Part 5: Lewes and Charleston (coming soon)