The Restorative Powers of The Queens Arms in Corton Denham, Dorset

Our bodies and pockets were full of Sudafed, Lemsip, Paracetemol, catahr and reams of tissues. So we decided to shun our bikes and drive the 18 miles to The Queens Arms in Corton Denham, near Sherborne.

Fans of Malcom Gladwell will know what I mean when I say that when we first saw the pub we had a real “blink” moment. Our first impression of this stunning, golden stone pub with enchantingly friendly signs outside wasn’t something we just felt in our heads. I felt my tummy turn, looked at Cowie and felt a thrilling surge of emotion knock my cold clean out of my blocked up head. It seems good pubs have a medicinal quality, that the likes of Glaxo should bottle. We immediately knew we were in the presence of a special country pub.





But this isn’t just a country pub. It’s a lot more too. Their attention to detail is charming. I loved the way they laid their pork pies out on the bar along with a whole Montgomery Cheddar. I was inspired by their array of local ciders and apple juice. I craved their range of bottled Moor Beers. I greedily guzzled their local ales. And we adored their fire, friendly service and attitude towards dogs.

We wolfed down a pork pie whilst deciding what to have for lunch. The pastry was beautifully crumbly, but we would have liked more jelly and a touch more salt. It turns out that they make excellent thinking food.



So with our brains enriched by pork pie we decided to share a bowl of mussels smothered in merguez sausage and tomato sauce. It was a very wise choice. Like everyone else, I’m a sucker for a good bowl of moules mariniere. But a good bowl is a rarity. Often they tend to miss the mark. So I’m often more interested in trying something a bit different in the hope of discovering something new and exciting. It turns out that spicy lamb sausage with a tomatoey sauce works brilliantly with mussels. It works with chorizo, so why not.



Still buzzing after our mussels, I was sent out to fetch the dogs from the car – I returned to the pub and the dogs immediately made themselves comfortable in front of the raging fire. They quickly became the stars of the pub and were befriended by numerous children and other dogs who wanted their front row seats.



For main course Cowie enjoyed a very memorable aubergine parcel with a spicy three bean stew. Whilst quite metropolitan for a very rural pub, it was full of flavour, beautifully textured and looked exquisite. If you can find a finer vegetarian main course in a country pub in the West Country please let us know.



Sausages and mash looked good. But I didn’t get a look in. So let’s just assume they hit the mark.



My oxtail hot pot was very delicately composed but suffered,as hot pots often do, from being a bit thin. That said, it looked charming and warmed my sniveling body to the very core. It was almost as if it had been created as a medicinal restorative.



We left with a small bill and a huge feeling of satisfaction and warmth. And then roamed off for a sensational walk across the ridge that overlooks the village and beforepopping into a cracking tea room called Bramble and Sage for a slice of cake and a cup of tea.

It was such a thrill to discover The Queens Arms. It’s now in my top 3 favourite pubs in the country and I can’t wait to go back. And I swear that since paying them a visit my awful cold has completely disappeared. If Glaxo are looking for new business ideas for 2010, they might want to consider opening a range of “medicinal watering holes” inspired by the Queens Arms.

The Wild Garlic is a restaurant worth cycling 56 miles (uphill) for

We’ve had mixed success so far with our cycling expeditions. Our inaugural, meandering trip to Lewes was rewarded with a memorable lunch at Bill’s. But our whizz across Richmond Park to The Albany was a disaster. So we decided our next trip on two wheels needed to be somewhere that could both guarantee us a good lunch and a cycle ride full of amazing views and fresh air. Our choice was Mat Folas’ restaurant in the idyllic village of Beaminster in Dorset, called The Wild Garlic.

So we loaded our bikes onto the back of Cowie’s ageing car and drove them down to Cowie’s parents’ house in Somerset. We spent the evening carbo loading on beef stroganoff and mapping our route. Cowie very cleverly used a road atlas rather than the OS map I was hankering after which I later discovered was because it didn’t show the heart stopping contour lines!

We woke bright and early to the sound of horses neighing and the sight of our breath steaming from our mouths. Opening the curtains revealed a scene from Narnia with a haw frost blistering every surface it could find. Including our bikes which we had forgotten to bring inside.

We wrapped up warm and brought our bikes inside to thaw next to the Aga, much to the dismay of Cowie’s two whippets who stared at the shivering bikes with horror. Three bowls of porridge bathed in honey and sprinkled with brown sugar woke me up sufficiently to embark on our journey.

After a false start where my chain fell off after two yards we were away. Despite the icy roads and endless hills we made good time. We started in freezing fog, but within 20 minutes it had made way and wintry sunshine took its place. The roads were quiet, except for the odd tractor and farm lorry which allowed us to enjoy the stunning views. It was like cycling through a Constable exhibition.





We stopped off after 30 miles at Corscombe for a refreshing half pint of bitter for me and a cup of tea for Cowie in a pub recommended in the Gastro Pub Cookbook called the Fox Inn.

The landlord then broke some very bad news. The road to Beaminster was closed for repairs. We’d have to go on a “very long detour over the downs”. WHAT?! No. We were so close.

We set off again, feeling slightly despondent, but determined not to let a little detour get in the way of our lunch. The hill out of Corscombeis making me sick just writing about it. It’s so steep I’m surprised health and safety haven’t stepped in to force the parish council to install an escalator! We cycled straight up hill for about 2 miles before emerging on the top of downs. Our reward was a view that took our misty breath away and made all the hard slog worth it.



We ignored the “road closed” sign and ploughed on to Beaminster without any problem at all. It seems the roadworks were a fiction of the landlord’s imagination.

We changed quickly out of our hi-vis tops and tried to make ourselves look less sweaty and horrible before nonchalantly striding into The Wild Garlic for lunch, feeling about as smug as is humanly possible.



The room is airy, light, friendly and well decorated with warm yellows and natural wood. It’s not big, but that helps to give it a homely feeling. A statuette of an “M” proudly sits behind the bar and the odd glowing review hangs in a frame in the Gents. Richard Bramble prints of mackerel and crab adorn the restaurant’s walls, firmly establishing this as a local enterprise.

We loved the heavy wooden tables, whose strudy tops are carved with the names of ingredients and culinary aphorisms. It’s a great touch. We just wished as much care had gone into the chairs which by comparison are quite flimsy. But these are things you probably only notice after cycling for 3 hours!

The lunch menu is brief. We almost fell out as Cowie suggested we skip starters and dive into main courses. Given our exertions there was no way I was going to miss out.



My sautéed sprats with aioli were superb. The pale yellow dip was everything that its equivalent at The Albany was not. Subtle. Smooth. Somehow light. The sprats were crispy and yet still moist. A simple starter. But a belter.



Cowie’s pigeon with a cranberry and beetroot relish was even better. The pigeon was almost dangerous pink and oozed flavour like ripe plum that refuses to be constrained by its skin. The festive coloured relish added texture, sweetness and a touch of sour. The only way it could have been better was with a heavier hand with the seasoning.

Both were served on wooden boards with a very attractive side salad, composed of purples, reds and greens. You’ll struggle to find a more attractive sprinkling of leaves. Alas, the pretty little undressed salads have no flavour. No peppery rocket nor irony watercress. No bitter chicory nor powerful borage bud. No dressing. I hate to be picky. But, given that these salads accompany most dishes, it’s a shame they are being used as a garnish rather than as an extra flavour dimension. I was expecting a lot more, given the photos of tantalising salads on the website.

My liver with onion gravy and mash was perfectly cooked, with a rosy centre and gently charred edges. But it was the mash that turned out to be the star of the dish and possibly the entire meal. It was infused with a subtle, smoky flavour that is a house speciality. We asked our waitress for more details but were told it was a secret of the house. (But it may well be done a little bit like this). Even with the spectacular smoked mash, we couldn’t help but think mash with liver and onion gravy was missing something…



Cowie’s venison scotch egg with chips was not good. We had ordered it on the grounds that it was making its debut on the menu. If it was a football match, the manager would have spared its blushes and substituted it at half time. The egg was cold and hard boiled. The venison sausage meat was barely warm. And the cost was £12. For £9.50 less than that at the Harwood Arms in Fulham you’ll get a runny middle, crispy crumb, hot sausage and a smile on your face. And it’s a starter. I’d be very surprised if this remains on the menu in its current form for very long.

Even though we knew we were already running late for our train home we couldn’t resist a cardamom pot with pomegranate seeds infused with rose water. When you see how attractive they are, it’s hard to resist.



The idea is great. The presentation is stunning. But the cardamom flavoured yoghurt, whilst delicious in terms of flavour, was gritty. We couldn’t work out whether this was accidental or deliberate at the time. But with a spot of research it seems that graininess is a common problem with home made yoghurt stemming from either uneven temperature control during incubation or an issue with the modified starch stabilizer. It doesn’t really matter what caused it. It’s just a shame it’s not quite right.

We loved our lunch, even though we’re not won over by a few dishes which had basic technical flaws that show that this is a work in progress rather than the finished article. It’s a restaurant that’s brimming with ideas and delicious food. We are looking forward to taking Cowie’s grandmother who used to live around the corner from Beaminster to try out their more extensive dinner menu.

Our cycle home was less fun. The hills seemed steeper, the air was colder and the roads became busy. And it was dark. But we got home in one piece having cycled 56 miles and in need of another meal!

For more cycling escapades have a look here.

River Cottage Autumn Festival

Last year we fell head over heels for River Cottage when we were taken on a mushrooming tour de force by John Wright - Hugh's brilliant mushroom expert. It's taken us a nearly a year to return - but we did so eagerly.

The River Cottage Autumn Festival attracted 2,000 visitors over 2 days - each paying £15. Which means that over the course of a year Hugh's seasonal festivals take £120,000 on the gate. Impressive stuff. Even more impressive when you look at the itinerary for the rest of the year. It's great to see someone's rustic dream become a lucrative success.

The festival itself was a jolly affair. Swarming with families and kids in wellies running around without a care in the world.



All the stalls were manned by slightly hippyish people - utterly dedicated to making things by hand, just like the good old days. This is the part that really excites me at the moment. I am dead keen both on smoking my own food and also have a burning desire to build a clay pizza oven.

By sheer coincidence, Cowie and I watched the episode of River Cottage where Hugh builds a smoker on the train down to Somerset. Having learnt how easy it is to do and now armed with a photograph I am planning to convert Cowie's spare stable into a rustic smoker.



Perhaps more excitingly, I also had a chance to inspect Hugh's collection of clay ovens. Whilst I can't afford to go on his "Build a clay oven in a day" course, I have now got the seminal book on the subject. I've also found a brilliant website that explains exactly how to make them. All I need is a load of clay, another load of sand, some sleepers and a few spare weekends. Then I'll be feasting on pizzas...



The folk music band was in full swing as we pottered into the farmers' market tent. It was full of brilliant local foodie producers.



My favourite was the South Devon Chilli Farm.



Their chipotle sauce is now on my desk at work and has inspired me to smoke my next batch of chillies... Why not combine two of my favourite things. I guess I'll have to then scatter them all over my innaugrual pizza!



Their chillies ranged from the mellow to the fierce. I've invested in 4 new types of chilli... with one weighing in at 450,000 Scoville units... frankly, I'm a bit scared!

We left the skwelchy car park full of beans, but starving! It was a great event that I am very hesitant about critcising... but not being able to provide enough food for a ticketed event is pretty poor... especially when you're a chef at home on your own farm!



So we went to Lyme Regis and had some sensational fish and chips instead!

The Riverside, West Bay

Its not everyday that your 82 year old grandmother offers to take you and your boyfriend out to a highly acclaimed restaurant by the sea. As you can imagine... I jumped at the offer.

Over the last 5 years, The Riverside at West Bay, Bridport, Dorset http://www.thefishrestaurant-westbay.co.uk/ has received high praise from a prestigious array of critics. Situated on the water, adjacent to the working harbour and producing superb fresh fish, the restaurant has a great deal to offer. From outside, one might be mistaken that you were approaching a sea side cafe, however, as the waft of fresh fish and garlic fills your nostrils it is clear your chosen well.

Since it was the Bank Holiday the place was full to the rafters with friends and family all enjoying a delicious Sunday Lunch. With the room swamped in natural light and the waves casually lapping against the walls it really felt like we were on holiday.

To our delight, with the exception of 3 dishes, everything on the menu was from the ocean. To start I opted for a firm favourite in my book; seared scallops with mint pea puree. Yum. Three plump scallops, cooked to perfection were nestled on a smooth bright green pile of pea goo. The balance of texture and flavour was excellent. Granny followed suit and also ordered scallops to start. Browny however, decided to be more conventional and went for a sublime dressed crab. On numerous occasions at Borough Market we have marvelled over the splendor of the heroic Dorset crab..... and now here it was on the menu, 20 yards away from where it was caught. Simplicity was the key here. Fresh juicy white and brown meat married together with homemade mayonnaise; Truly delicious.

For main course we all chose an entire fish to devour, grilled; 2 John Dory and 1 Dover sole. Due to the attentive service, minutes after our plates were cleared 3 more arrived at our table, 2 of which accommodated a hideous looking specimen... this was the John Dory in all its glory! The Dover Sole was presented in a classic style and tasted as good as ever. In comparsion, the JD was unusually sweet in flavour, however the fish was so succulent and tasty it still proved to be a winner.

As I put my knife and fork together as a natural cue to the end of our delicious lunch, I was somewhat alarmed when Granny insisted we had a pudding. In my effort to be relatively good, I chose an extremely tasty roasted pear with pecan stuffing plus toffee apple ice cream. Again the flavour and contrasting textures created a delightful pud. Granny once again decided to play safe and chose the same as Browny; a pistachio cheesecake. I say a cheesecake.... a massive creamy / crunchy balonge is a more apt visual. Double cheesecakes have a reputation of being wicked and very moreish. After 4 mouthfuls Browny was defeated. Granny on the other hand was on flying form. She miraculously managed to speak no stop throughout the entire meal AND finished every last speak of her gigantic slice of cheesecake... What a talent!

As we drove home, we both reflected on what a memorable afternoon we had had. The Riverside is a place you could take anyone to; from your 2 year old nephew to your 80 year old grandmother! Simple, quality and delicious fish by the sea.