A Rainy Day in Dumfries (2) Caerlaverock Castle: Scotland 23 Part 6

This is a new post though it covers the events of the 22nd of July 2023
It will be moved to its appropriate chronological position shortly.

A Triangular Castle and a Tapas Dinner

A Brief Recap

Scotland

Dumfries & Galloway

On the 21st of July we had driven 260 miles south from Findochty to Dumfries (for the many American visitors to this blog that is pronounced Dum-freece). For much of his life Dumfries was the home of Robert Burns, Scotland’s (unofficial) national poet. On the morning of the 22nd we set out to walk the town’s Burns Trail. It involved so many interesting places, not all connected with Burns, that by lunch time I had reached my self-imposed limit on the length of a blog post. That post became A Rainy Day in Dumfries Part 1 and this post tidies up the afternoon and evening.

Findochty, Dumfries and the Dumfries & Galloway District

The River Nith

After a sandwich and a cup of tea in the town centre, we returned to our hotel, picked up the car and drove the 11km south-east to Caerlaverock Castle, following the River Nith almost to the Solway Firth. I finished the previous post with Burn's ode ‘The Banks o’ Nith’ but I do not think it was this bit of the Nith he was eulogising. For its final few kilometres, the river is tidal. At low tide it is a narrow stream running between wide muddy banks while at high tide inflow exceeds outflow, and for an hour or so the Nith becomes more a lake than a river.

The River Nith when the tide is in

Caerlaverock Castle

Caerlaverock Castle was built in the 13th century as a stronghold for Clan Maxwell. At the time, I presume, it overlooked the river mouth but that is now hidden behind Castle Wood. The area had previously accommodated a Roman Camp and then a Brittonic hill fort

Scotland has a wealth of wonderful place names that roll off the tongue and entice the imagination, but Caerlaverock is not one of them, it just feels wrong.

What’s in a Name?

13th century Dumfries was linguistically diverse but Gaelic and Norse were in decline, Norman French was confined to the nobility and Early Scots was emerging as the dominant language – though whether Scots is a language or an English dialect can become a heated debate. Laverock is Scots for ‘skylark,’ but what warlord in his right mind would invoke the power of a skylark?

‘Caer’ means 'fort', not in Gaelic (that would be dùn – as in Dumfries) but in Welsh, where it is a common prefix in place names - Caerdydd (Cardiff), Caernafon (Carnavon). Llafar (a single ‘f’ is pronounced as ‘v’ in Welsh) means ‘talking’ and there is more than one Afon Llafar in Wales – like a babbling brook - but with alliteration only in the second syllable. -Og, meaning ‘having the quality of’ is a suffix in Welsh place names like Ffestiniog.

Having translated the implausible Caerlaverock to the plausible Caerllafarog, we appear to have a Welsh place name in Scotland. So that needs explaining

Some History

When the Romans arrived, the island they called Brittania was occupied by a patchwork of tribes speaking various Brittonic dialects and living in peace with their neighbours, except when they quarrelled or felt like some raiding. The Romans introduced order, law and peace. Some tribal leaders bought into this, adopting Roman names and Roman lifestyles but few did as well as King Tiberius Claudius Togidubnus of the Atrebates in what is now Sussex. His huge palace with baths, underfloor heating and mosaic floors, was rediscovered in 1960 and visited by us in in in 2008.

In 410 the Romans went home, taking the rule of law with them. Petty kingdoms sprouted and withered. Their inhabitants did not write much, and what is known comes largely from oral history written down in the 11th and 12th centuries

In 537 King Gwenddoleu ap Ceidio was defeated and killed by King Rhydderch Hael of Strathclyde at the Battle of Arfderydd, Gwenddoleu’s bard, Myrddin Wyllt, reportedly went mad and ran into the forest. Arfderydd was near Caerlaverock and all the names are Welsh. Myrddin the bard may even have featured in the Arthurian legends (other claimants exist).

Britain in 800 CE

Later Angles, Jutes and Saxons began to arrive. When I was at school, I was taught the incoming invaders butchered the Ancient Britons pushing the survivors into Wales and Cornwall. DNA analysis now suggests that did not happen, they were migrants rather than invaders and quietly merged with local inhabitants. What did get pushed west was the Brittonic, Old Welsh, language.

By by 800 the petty kingdoms of what is now England (more or less) had been reduced to seven as shown on the map.

The problem with the map (apart from labelling Wales  'North Wales' and Cornwall ‘West Wales’) is that it makes no distinction between two very different Brittonic languages. The Kingdom of Dalriada, just north of Strathclyde was the land occupied by the Scoti when they migrated from Ireland (late 4th/early 5th centuries), bringing the Gaelic tongue with them. The Picts disappeared, probably merging with the Scoti, leaving some enigmatic stone carvings, but little more. The Gaelic language was very different from the Old Welsh used in Strathclyde, Wales and Cornwall.

Gaelic became the dominant language in the north of what is now Scotland, while by the 11th century English had become dominant in what would become southern Scotland and Cumbria. It is, however, very possible that some anglicised versions of Old Welsh names survive - like Caerlaverock.

Enough of this, Back to the Castle

Castles are usually highly visible, that is the point of them, but Caerlaverock remains hidden from a distance, being being built in a slight dip.

It is also triangular. The apex facing inland is truncated, with two round towers merging to form a gatehouse

Caerlaverock Castle

A closer view shows the moat is still present, but the drawbridge has been replaced by a fixed bridge.

A fixed bridge where once was a drawbridge, Caerlaverock Castle

Above the door, in carved sandstone is the crest of the Clan Maxwell, ‘a stag couchant under a holly bush.’ The inevitable erosion of softish stone means the bush is barely recognisable as holly.

The Clan Maxwell crest over the gate

Sadly, the gate is currently locked and visitors are not allowed inside. Scottish Heritage own Caerlaverock, and many other piles of old stone, and after a recent rockfall they have temporarily closed several ruins so they can be surveyed and, if necessary, made safe. I have no desire to be crushed by tumbling rocks, and there was no charge for the visit, so I cannot complain.

The photo of the gate rather foreshortens the castle, and loses its triangularity. A drone would be useful here. I do not have one, but Simon Ledingham does and he has kindly donated the photo below to Wikipedia. I reproduce it here under CC BY-SA 2.0.

Simon Ledingham's aerial view of Caerlaverock Castle. It really is triangular!
The cuboid building with nine windows, looks out of place in a medieval castle. It is the Nithsdale Lodgings - see later

Caerlaverock in the First Scottish War of Independence

The First Scottish War of Independence lasted from 1296 to 1328, which make it sound worse than it was. Some years there were summer campaigns by one protagonist or another, some years nothing happened.

Scotland had a succession problem, and rather foolishly had asked Edward I of England to choose their new king. He wanted to answer ‘ME!’ but instead appointed John Baliol, a man so pliable Edward could have used him as a glove puppet. Edward was a first-class war lord – not a quality I admire, but he was good at it and would probably have ruled Scotland but for his death from dysentery while marching north in 1302. His son Edward II was very different and after loosing to Robert the Bruce at Bannockburn in 1314 it was all over bar the shouting – which lasted 14 years.

The important battles, Stirling Bridge (1297) and Bannockburn were fought in or near Stirling. We visited both sites in 2022, and there is more about this war in my Stirling post.

The eastern Gatehouse Tower and East Range

Sir Herbert Maxwell and his garrison were besieged in Caerlaverock in 1300 by Edward I with a force of 3,000 well-armed men. After two days spirited defence Maxwell surrendered. Finding the castle was garrisoned by only 50 men. Edward was impressed they had held out so long.

In 1312 Sir Eustace Maxwell (Herbert had died) swapped sides and the castle was returned. Edward II even paid to upgrade the fortifications.

He then promptly swapped sides again. This led to a second English siege which was repulsed, but Sir Eustace part dismantled his own castle to prevent the English gaining such an important stronghold. Robert the Bruce paid him for this service.

Caerlaverock in the Second Scottish War of Independence 1332-57

King Robert I (the Bruce) died in 1329 aged 54. His son King David II was aged two, so Edward Baliol (son of John) saw an opportunity. Aided, and sometimes hindered by Edward III (son of Edward II) he fought a series of regents for the crown. Edward was distracted by French threats of invasion and in 1336 decided to invade France himself and press his claim to be the King of France. Much of the latter part of the war involved David raiding in England in support of France. He was captured, spent time in the Tower of London, was eventually ransomed and became undisputed King of Scotland on Edward Baliol’s death in 1364.

Caerlaverock Castle 1832, JMW Turner
Original in Aberdeen Art Gallery

By 1337 the castle was rebuilt and Sir Eustace declared for Edward Baliol. Some years passed, but inevitably, it was taken by forces loyal to David II, and part dismantled.

In the late 14th century, Caerlaverock was regained by the Maxwells and Sir Robert Maxwell did much rebuilding from from 1373. Some decades later another Robert, now styled 2nd Lord Maxwell reconstructed the gatehouse, among other improvements.

The Reformation

In 1567 Mary Queen of Scots was forced to abdicate. The Catholic Maxwells took up her cause and in 1570 Caerlaverock was besieged by an English Protestant force. It was, yet again, partly demolished and the gatehouse was blown up with gunpowder.

In 1619 Robert, 10th Lord Maxwell was in favour with James VI (by then also James I of England). He was appointed to the Scottish Privy Council and made Earl of Nithsdale. To reflect his new status, he started building the ‘Nithsdale Lodging.’

Looking into the castle through the demolished South Range towards the Nithsdale Lodgings

Judging the great days of castles to be over, the Nithsdale Lodgings were an attempt to turn a medieval castle into a comfortable 17th country house. They were too soon, the Gordon family made the same mistake at Huntly in Aberdeenshire, but got it right at nearby Fyvie (see Huntly and Fyvie)

Close up of the The Nithsdale Lodgings

In the dark local stone, the Nithsdale Lodgings look forbidding rather than welcoming. The semi-circles above each window have carvings of family arms, scenes of divine and earthly love and episodes from Greek mythology. Their attempt to evoke the Italian Renaissance, now better evokes the Scottish weather.

Being a Catholic in a Scotland now gripped with Protestant fervour was not easy. Six years after the Nithsdale Lodgings were completed, Caerlaverock was besieged by a Protestant Covenanter army and forced to surrender after 13 weeks. The Earl and Countess of Nithsdale and their page were allowed to leave, but the 40 defenders were put to the sword. The south wall and tower were demolished, and the castle was abandoned.

A Tapas Dinner

We too abandoned Caerlaverock, and returned to Dumfries aware that we had neglected to organise dinner. Chips shops are always available, but a seat in a restaurant in Dumfries on Saturday night, requires booking.

Our affable hosts at the Hill Hotel (which I recommend) had provided us with a list of possibilities yesterday and we started phoning. We eventually found a berth in The Bank Bar and Tapas Restaurant, a newish restaurant and a newish idea for Dumfries.

We walked into town – after relenting at Caerlaverock, the drizzle had returned – and found the Bank to be a large modern building stuffed with drinkers and diners. It was loud – Scottish bars are often louder than English bars – and that was not helped by the Hen Party in the corner. They became quieter when the serious eating started and we had left before the serious drinking begun.

The Spanish tend to eat their main meal at lunchtime (2.30ish). Those choosing to eat out in the evening normally arrive at restaurants around 10pm, thus leaving an early spot for bars selling dinks and snacks on small plates. The first Tapas bars in this country followed the Spanish template, but our earlier dining time means they have morphed into restaurants selling full meals, but on multiple small plates – three per average dinner. They have also forgotten their Spanish roots, our six plates had origins spread across Europe, Asia and the Caribbean; some were meaty, some fishy, some veggie, some spicy, some not.  Each plate was a complete dish, the variety was fascinating and we enjoyed the experience far more than we had anticipated.

The next day we drove home to Staffordshire.

Scotland 2023

Part 1 Falkirk
Part 2 Banff and Macduff
Part 3 Pitmedden Gardens and Haddo House
Part 4 Lossiemouth to Elgin
Part 5 A Rainy Day in Dumfries (1) Robert Burns
Part 6 A Rainy Day in Dumfries (2) Caerlaverock Castle

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 In

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)