There are two types of chef. Those who eat, and those who only cook. The latter are driven by process, not by the visceral. As far as they are concerned, eating is for civilians, not for the crack kitchen SAS.
I know of one high-flying (and very thin) London chef who does not even eat his own food, which is worrying. He tastes each ingredient, but once the dish is assembled he won't get near it, in case it is less than perfection. There are words for people like that, and most of them are too rude for a Sunday morning. Certainly it makes me suspicious of his cooking. In any case, I was always bound to be more interested in the eaters. We share a common purpose. We just come at it from different ends.
Stephen Jackson is an eating chef, although, when I first came across him on a food website, I knew him only as an eater. He wrote detailed, vaguely salacious accounts of meals he and his father had shared in French Michelin three-star places, like those belonging to Marc Veyrat and Michel Bras. He is not very thin. Only later did I discover he also has a restaurant, Weaver's Shed, in Golcar, which overlooks the Colne Valley near Huddersfield.
In the guidebooks it is that setting which attracts the most attention: entries obsess about the Yorkshire cottage which houses it and the use of local ingredients - and all of that is true. They have their own kitchen garden which supplies most of their needs, collect their own eggs and pluck wild garlic from the hill sides. But the cosiness of the description obscures a more subversive intelligence at work here. Jackson means business.
It's there in the ragged tile of cumin-infused crisp bread inserted into a groove in a highly polished stone as if they were a part of each other, which greets you at the table. It's there in a shot glass of cauliflower cream with apple foam, fruit and vegetable playing tag with each other, which is served as a taster. And it's there in a plate of duck four ways. Shreds of confit come in a warm, crisp ball, the richness undercut by a slick of chilli-infused sweet jelly. There's slices of cured breast, after a recipe picked up from Franco Taruschio at the famed Walnut Tree, a seared piece of the liver just the right side of underdone, and around it shards of crisp skin. This is serious cooking for £11.95.
A main course of local roast lamb, with nutty, coarse chips made from mashed chickpeas, grilled courgettes and aubergine puree, though a little under-seasoned, showed a clear sensitivity to ingredients. And a pudding of banana tart tatin, with rum and raisin ice cream, showed the eater's instinct for pure indulgence.
There is also an extraordinary wine list full of bargains. A 1997 Chateau Musar, which appears on most wine lists nudging £40, for example, is here just £27. Tempranillo Q from St Julia wines in Argentina, which retails at around a tenner, is here £23. Most places would again sell that at nearer £40. But Stephen, and his wife Tracey, who oversees front of house with distinct informality, want people to experiment and know that price point is a way to encourage that.
The Pennines may prove a little inaccessible to some, but the Jacksons have some lovely rooms, reasonably priced, which offer one of life's greatest pleasures: indulging in terrific food and wine, then making your way upstairs to bed without a thought to the washing up. It is the kind of indulgence only a committed eater would understand.
· Weaver's Shed, 88 Knowl Road, Golcar, West Yorkshire (01484 654 284). Meal for two, including wine and service, £100 (cheaper lunch menus available).
