Braithwaite, near Keswick, Cumbria (01768 778 409) Meal for two, including wine and service £95
If a great meal begins with a journey, then the drive to the Cottage in the Wood, on a hill high above Keswick in the Lake District, is the ultimate appetiser. Viewed purely from above via a satnav, you appear not to move, so tight are the turns on the Whinlatter Pass. And then all of a sudden you turn a bend and there it is: a solidly built whitewashed house perched on a hillside with views out across one of England's greatest landscapes. There is, for the record, another small hotel of the same name near Malvern which likewise claims astonishing views. But there is something about the defiantly unmanicured roughness of Cumbria which for me gives it the edge. It almost makes me want to go hill walking, which is odd given that I regard my natural habitat as the back seat of a black cab.
A nice drive and a good view are lovely. The challenge is to communicate the intense sense of place through the food on the plate. For Cumbria is one of this country's great larders. From the coast there are the sweet shrimps of Morecambe Bay and from the valleys the neglected joys of damsons. And then there is the Herdwick – the bruiser of the sheep world, built for a life on the high fells. It is at its best when allowed to roam a little longer than most sheep in this country get – a life lived well and one of those labels worth getting excited about.
Young chef Ryan Blackburn, who previously worked with Martin Wishart in Edinburgh, knows how to cook it properly. His menu bigs up where his produce originated in a way that makes it read like one of Alfred Wainwright's walking guides. There are girolles from Loweswater and turbot from Whitehaven, partridge from Alston Moor, that Herdwick from Yew Tree Farm, and Curthwaite curd ice cream. Sometimes this kind of label fetishism can read like shameless grandstanding. But when the cooking is so assured it makes sense. The dinner menu is short, just eight savoury dishes, but some can be had in both starter and main-course sizes. Three are £36, rising to £54 for five.
Mackerel arrives, much like me by this point, lightly soused in the way this oily fish understands. Alongside is the sweetness of roasted beetroot, the understated bitterness of watercress and the kick of horseradish cream. A perfect tranche of turbot is partnered with a crisp disc of long-cooked pig's trotter and, to bring it all to life, a whizzy vinaigrette of cockles. Best of all is the big-flavoured Herdwick hogget served both roast and as a cylinder of something rich and braised, alongside a couple of pink fir potatoes and some baby leeks and glazed salsify. The plating may be delicate, but the cooking is big and bold. It speaks of a cook who understands that he has arrived somewhere special and is determined to make a virtue of it.
If there is a weakness, it is at dessert. The execution of what is described is fine; the dishes are just not quite greedy enough. So a perfectly poached peach arrives with a set cream flavoured with rosemary, and the herb is just a little overwhelming. Ditto a beautiful bowl of raspberries, the colour of velvet plush, with a lavender cream. This, I admit, is a prejudice of mine. I always think lavender makes things taste like you imagine an old lady's knicker drawer would smell. Much better was a soft parsnip and walnut cake with honey-roasted figs. It had a certain lusciousness, present in the savoury courses, which the sweet course needs a little more of.
This is, though, a small point. The owners, Liam and Kath Berney, used to be teachers, and they bring a brisk, friendly efficiency to service. There is a keenly priced wine list plus handsome, sturdy dining rooms in which to enjoy it. Best of all, there is the sense that the drive up the hill was more than worth it.
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