Gravetye Manor, Revisited

The last time I visited Gravetye Manor, in the serene Sussex countryside, was nineteen years ago for my father’s 40th birthday party. My memories are as fuzzy as a well worn jumper, but my overall recollection is of old world charm and friendly sophistication. I remember trying to be patient during what seemed like a very long and grown up lunch and then being set loose in the garden where I was allowed to run around and hide in the flower beds whilst my parents and grandparents talked about the finer points of William Robinson’s gardening aesthetic.

It was a defining moment for me – as I have a very soft spot for country estates with ideas baked into them and good food. But it was more importantly a seminal experience for my parents. They clicked with Robinson’s English Natural Gardening style and Arts and Crafts period design which have inspired a fair bit of Mum and Dad’s garden at home.



So when Gravetye invited Cowie and I for lunch I said a nostalgic yes and enjoyed our brief tour of the garden which reconnected me with my previous experience. The garden and house tie together seamlessly with views from inside over ethereal and natural planting schemes. We loved the informal and relaxed way the plants wispily jostled with each other for position – as if telling the gardener where they should be rather than vice versa. And whereas many country house gardens pretentiously follow French and Italian formal garden design, Gravetye takes a more natural approach which pervades the whole experience.



The dining room is serene and civilised, with a gentle hum of old school conversations bumbling about rugby, art and travel. I suspect the same themes have been talked about in this room for generations and will continue to be repeated forever. The food is true to its setting, but also exhibits a modern flourish with supremely fresh and local ingredients – with some coming from the estate itself and the surrounding area.



I stated with a small tranche of pristine turbot that had been laid on top of some Dorset crab and then doused in a rich shellfish bisque. It’s not often you get a chance to commence a meal such a fine fish, but when you see it on the menu as a starter it seems rude not to indulge. The waiter sealed the deal as he explained that the fish wasn’t farmed like many turbot are these days, but instead was a stunning specimen that the whole kitchen were enthralled by. Needless to say, it was pretty special.



Cowie’s quail salad was a work of meaty and eggy art. Warm, rare, quail lay strewn amongst runny little eggs, beetroot salad leaves , baby leeks and a sauce gribiche. When you cook like this there isn’t any room to hide. But it had everything that Cowie seeks in a starter and it managed to keep her away from trying to steal too much of mine!



My veal fillet with a cep from the local woods and some horseradish cream was very special. I’m not an enormous fan of foams with main courses, but when the veal is cooked this well you could serve it with a bag of cement and I’d be happy. But the real highlight was a solitary cep which had been sliced in half and then roasted to bring out it deep fungal flavour.



Cowie’s sea bass came with a slick of mushroom sauce, a scattering of cute little girolles and some bacon wrapped fingers of oystery salsify. It brought back memories of Sweden – where we first encountered salsify at Kok & Vin – and worked brilliantly with the meaty sea bass. The combination of deep, brown flavours was quintessentially autumnal.



After such a savoury main course, I was drawn to the dessert menu like a mosquito to a juicy limb. My fig custard tart with gingerbread ice cream was one of the best puddings I’ve had in a long time. I even liked the marshmallows which I normally hate. Whereas some figgy puddings are cock teases with a sensual and seedy allure but no action, this little minx should have it’s own store on Brewer Street. The deep, sultry flavour of the fig kept you coming back for more.



Cowie’s plate of banana desserts was spectacular too if a little OTT. Of the cake, cannelloni, tuile, popcorn and cream, it was the cylinder that was the most exciting experience. I was hoping that there might be a Bananaman badge in the bottom of the cake, tucked away like a ha'penny in a Christmas pudding.

Many country house hotels leave you feeling like an extra from Poirot and have trouble keeping up with menu trends. But not Gravetye. Without being aloof, stuffy or cringingly modish, it manages to offer a warm, convivial and special experience. You get the impression that it has a very loyal following of people who regard it as their unofficial club. It would make an ideal place for a celebratory weekend, a stop over before a honeymoon or simply as a great place to revel in an important birthday – just like my family did 20 years ago. Apparently 80% of the people who visit Gravetye come back again some point in the future. And I am sure we will too one day.

Many thanks indeed to Gravetye and Quintessentially for inviting us both for lunch – it was a very special afternoon and I wouldn’t have written about it, had it not lived up to the memories of my first experience there as a nipper. Find out more details about their rooms, rates and special menus by visiting the Gravetye Manor Wesbite.

Speedboat Saunas and Cured Fish at Salt & Sill

What better way to spend a gloriously sunny Sunday with Cowie than to drive for an hour or so up the idyllic West Coast from Gothenburg and enjoy a smorgasbord of pickled fish and a sauna in Sweden's only floating hotel?



Salt & Sill means “salt and herring” in Swedish which is rather appropriate given that Klädesholmen, where the hotel is based, is also known as “herring island”. They've been catching and preserving herring here since the fifteenth century. In fact half of Sweden's pickled herring comes from this island. So if you're going to gorge on pickled herring it makes sense to do it here.



On Sunday they serve a smörgåsbord from lunch time to early evening with an emphasis on the fishy end of the spectrum. Feeling exhausted after an early morning 10km run through a frosty forest, we found ourselves making an indecent number of return visits to the buffet table which saw me eating 12 types of expertly cured fish!





Whilst the hot smoked salmon with a pepper crust and the cold smoked roasted salmon were excellent, it was the mackerel that stole the show. The hot smoked mackerel put the stuff you get in a vacuum pack for a quid to shame. This was robust, flaky, moist and meaty. It was so good in fact that it made three appearances on my plate! The lemon pickled mackerel (far left) with a crumbed coating was very unusual, but delicious. It was like eating honey lemon chicken from a Chinese take away. Except a lot better! The prawns were very good too but let's ignore the dried out mussels that probably aren't the wisest of choices for a buffet lunch.



The cold smoked salmon and gravid lax were both good without being thrilling. But it was the strömming and quenelles of herring, potato, crème fraiche and dill that were the stars of this particular plate. The strömming (Swedish name for pickled herring from the East Coast) had been pickled in lemon and garlic and had a very meaty texture and pleasantly metallic taste. The quenelles were soft, and moreish - like the sort of potato salad that continental Europeans would love and children would gag on at a picnic.







We couldn't have left with our heads held high without trying their award winning pickled herring. I know the thought of pickled herring makes a lot of people feel a bit queasy, but if they just tried these beauties they may well change their minds. Until I moved to Sweden I had no idea that there were so many flavours of pickled herring other than vinegar and dill. We went for the full range from traditional at the top, lemon and garlic at 1 o'clock, roe at 3 o'clock, mustard and whisky at the bottom, lobster at 8ish and blackcurrant at 10 o'clock.



The caviar and crème fraiche cure was deliciously creamy with little bubbles of roe that popped yet more fishiness into your mouth.



The lemon and garlic cure was the most herring-y of the lot and none the worse for it. But any more than two small pieces and you'd start to feel like a seal.



The blackcurrant cure tasted like cassis making it a bit like having a fishy glass of Kir Royale! But our favourite was the mustard and whisky variety which recently won Sweden's best pickled herring award!



Feeling like engorged whales we waddled out to the jetty for some fresh air and a James Bond-esque stint on their sauna boat. Sadly it was moored so we didn't get a chance for a 15 knot sauna and a drink at the bar… but a 20 minute blast at 85'c followed by an icy shower was a fine alternative that left us feeling purged and blissfully relaxed.



As we walked back to the lounge we admired the stylish floating hotel which is the only one of its type in Sweden. Apparently they've built a lobster reef with the rubble generated from the construction and are installing a mussel filtration until underneath the pontoon. It's just another example of how they've managed to balance luxury, their environmental principles and a commitment to the wonderful fruits of this very special stretch of coastline.

We couldn't have had a more quintessentially Swedish experience. 12 types of cured fish, a floating sauna and enough Sven look-a-likes to manage all of England's deluded and cash rich non-Premier league football clubs. If you are keen to visit, then take a look at the special deal that starts in January where you can enjoy a lazy Sunday like we did and stay in the floating hotel (like we didn't) for a reduced rate.

Or if you visit in the summer then we've heard it's fun to cycle around the island on the hotel's complementary bikes. Or better still, pay the Astol Rokeri (smokery) a visit on the island of Astol which can you reach from Ronnang harbour. They have a reputation for serving the finest smoked fish on the West Coast and for looking after their guests like long lost friends. I'm looking forward to it already.

Many thanks to the West Coast of Sweden Tourist Board for laying on this excellent experience.

Mussel Safari at Lysekil

The West Coast of Sweden Tourist board very kindly took me on a Mussel Safari off the coast of Lysekil along with five of Sweden’s top food bloggers. So not only did I get to see more of the idyllic Swedish coastline, but I also got to eat fantastic shellfish and meet some inspiring people.

The West Coast of Sweden’s defining characteristic is its relationship with the chilly North Sea which creates the insane weather that Gothenburg is blessed with and nourishes the seafood that graces the icy counters of the feskekorka. It’s the reason why Gothenburg has five Michelin starred restaurants and why this rocky coastline is such a rewarding place to indulge in a shellfish safari.

After an overnight stay in the seaside town of Lysekil, our mussel safari started with a mist shrouded chug out to sea guided by mussel-men Lars Marstone and Adriaan van Der Plasse. Because I was the only non-Swede I stood at the back and admired their nautical roll-necks and the handsome shoreline views.





Adriaan explained to me, in English, that the mussels take around two years to grow to maturity and thrive in the nutrient rich waters. They use the tried and tested nylon stocking technique where the mussel seeds are sown in a nylon sheath and then dangled off rafts into the sea. The mussels then grow on the rope itself before their gonads reach maturity. The diagram below from The Fish Site illustrates the process well.



Adriaan has been growing mussels all around the world, from Chile to Holland, for an eternity, so he knows what he’s talking about. The mussels we saw were six-month-old mini mussels that were still doing their GCSEs. His favourite way of eating his catch is to maintain their flavour by simply steaming them and then gorging on their seasoned naked flesh. No fancy sauces. No Thai green curry. No white wine and garlic. And definitely no cream.



Adriaan also farms oysters in the same bay. He proudly explained that because of the ferociously cold winter this year’s natives are some of the finest he’s ever eaten. He lost 80% of his crop, which wasn’t insured, thanks to the two-mete layer of ice that covered the sea. But, as if by following a combination of Pareto and Darwin’s theories, the 20% that survived are stunningly tasty as I found out back on dry land.



Sadly we didn’t get to try any mussels or oysters on board the boat on this particular trip. For paying punters Adriaan will swallow dive into the sea and return like a rugged mermaid clutching a bounty of be-shelled protein before cooking it there and then for you on the deck. In the bastardised words of Greg Wallace, “Cooking doesn’t get much fresher than this”.





Unfortunately, we had to wait till we were back in Lysekil before we could taste the mussels which were served in a creamy soup that was laden with lip smacking garlic. But it was worth the wait. As was the sight of a market dripping with crayfish and the black gold of the sea...



I trundled back down the coast to Gothenburg with my stomach full of mussels and my head jammed full of fishy facts whilst trying to persuade the tourist board to send me on one of their four other Shellfish Safaris.

You can find out more about going on a Lobster, Crayfish, Prawn, Mussel or Oyster Safari here or if you’re keen to book a trip then take a gander here.

And whilst we are on the subject of “Big Fives”, you should check out my “fem” new favourite Swedish food bloggers who I met on this trip...

Linnea's beautiful blog is soon to become a book about making the most of your pantry, Swedish style!

Kinna is a bit of a social media guru and has an excellent food blog that's good for when you want to practice your Swedish

Emma's Kök is full of stunning photographs of food that is designed to be swift and tasty

Kalasgott has quickly become one of my favourites - from the photos to the charming design. It also helps that Jenny is lots of fun. It's also got a nifty feature that lets your translate the text into English.

I found a kindred spirit in Katja who cooks all her food in a coffee pot - look out for a forthcoming post about an unusual way of cooking mussel soup