Telephone: 01394 450 205
Address: Orford, Woodbridge, Suffolk
Lunch for two including wine and service, £65
Say what you like about British summertime, at least it's good for the imagination. As I walked the route of the River Ore in Suffolk, on the narrow path that keeps it company down to the sea, it was just possible to imagine what it might be like here on a real summer's day. Forget the bruised sky and the chilly wind that saved me from working up a sweat. There was, at least, the heady smell of the wild flowers in the meadow, the lick-lap of the waters at my side and the occasional out-of-season midge to help me picture the same scene beneath a less shy sun. It must be lovely.
Down in this part of Suffolk, where the sea and the land fight an endless lazy battle for supremacy, the water and what comes out of it sets the tone.
Small fishing boats that have worked the grounds a few miles out beyond the river's mouth land their catch straight on to the grandly titled Orford Quay, and there are more than enough takers. Up in the village there are two shops selling bloaters, smoked salmon, cod and their roe and almost anything else that will fit into their smokeries, which lend a constant wood-smoke tinge to the air.
Beyond them is The Crown and Castle Inn, which also isn't averse to a nice bit of local fish. I can well imagine that this, too, is a lovely place on a hot summer's day, for it's pretty lovely on a cool, grey one. Inside, the various dining rooms are airy and bright and outside there is a large eating area from where, if you were tall enough, you could probably see all the way down to the river. If you aren't, there is, instead, a nice view of the fenced-off garden and the hills beyond.
The one bum note of the whole place is a notice on the gate into the garden warning that any children who go within will be sold into slavery or conscripted, or something like that. I know there are rooms that open on to that garden but what do they think small children will do? Eat the guests? This is all the more odd because The Crown and Castle insists it is child-friendly. There is a separate menu of real food and a promise to take children's orders first and get the dishes out quickly, a godsend for parents with hungry small people in tow. Hey ho. Maybe they are just a little too attached to their shrubberies.
There is, though, a genuinely relaxed atmosphere here. It was obvious from the number of people eating by themselves on a quiet Wednesday lunchtime. People don't eat alone in stuffy dining rooms, but here they were: the ivory-haired lady, a perfect fit for Miss Marple, dispatching her skate wing; the younger chap stirring his espresso. It was also obvious in the fine declaration of intent at the beginning of the wine list, which is headed 'Wine service (or reasons for the lack of it)'. Among other things it says, 'Seeing the bottle marooned across the room while one's glass remains empty (and the waiter oblivious) is hugely irritating: much better to be able to pour the wine as and when it's wanted.' Hear, hear! This sheet should be distributed to every restaurant in Britain.
The Crown and Castle was taken over a little while back by the food writer Ruth Watson and her husband. You may recall Watson as one of the advisers on Jamie's Kitchen, all blonde bob and tough love, and there is a touch of the Oliver in the writing of the menu. White onion and thyme soup comes with a 'slurp' of sherry; pork belly comes with 'zippy' puy lentils; the custard with pudding is 'proper'. Remove these self-conscious literary ticks and what we have is eclectic brasserie food. At lunchtime the main-course price of around £16 includes a starter or a pudding. An extra fiver gets you a third course.
I went with my friend Phil, who is researching a book set in Ipswich, the Newbury of the east, and who was therefore in need of respite care. He found it in that onion soup, which was rich and densely packed with flavour, including the gentle lift from the thyme. I began with their own cured gravadlax with a salad of crisp French beans and soft-boiled eggs. There was a fine, strong cure to the salmon and I liked the dollop of mustard sauce, though I happen to prefer my gravadlax sliced diagonally across the fillet rather than through it. These pieces just looked a little too dainty.
There was nothing dainty about the main courses. Phil went for the slow-roast Gloucester Old Spot Pork Belly, a huge long piece of meat with a crackling skin, and tender flesh accompanied by lentils, which I might myself have described as zippy, if they hadn't already done so. My pan-fried local skate came with sweet garlic and a dressing of sherry vinegar and smoked paprika and, with the addition of a little salt, was exactly the sort of thing I would have wanted on a warm summer's day, had it been one.
Phil finished with a very light lime and coconut tart and I, still determined it was summer, had the espresso and amaretti biscuit semifreddo, the coffee ice-cream lurking beneath a layer of welcome coffee liqueur.
After that we could have gone for another walk along the river or taken a boat trip to see the birds on Orford Ness or walked up to the Orford Castle keep, behind the inn. We could even have driven up the coast to Aldeburgh where, this weekend, the 56th festival of music and the arts begins. Sadly we didn't do any of those things. We drove to Ipswich instead. Oh well. The weather wasn't up to much anyway.
