I love a thoughtful pub renovation; it’s one of my favourite things. Anyone can shove a skip outside a pub, then tear out its heart and history in a bid to make things modern. And no one thanks breweries and landlords afterwards for creating sterile spaces that play endless Sky Sports. Then you have places such as the Cove at Fairlight, near Hastings, which closed in 2014 and sat about looking sad until Olivia Loveridge and Henry David took it on this spring and gave it new life.
The wood-fronted pub is painted black, giving it the air of one of the 50 or so 16th-century net huts along the shingle beach in Hastings Old Town. The pub sign is an ethereal, hand-painted image of midnight swimmers letting it all hang out on the naturist beach just up coast. Disappointingly, no naturists were spotted during my time at the Cove; the clientele in the beer garden had all chosen to wear pants and shoes to enjoy their pints of Harvey’s Sussex Best and plates of bitterballen, an addictive, croquette-like Dutch bar snack, usually made with meat but here with mustardy cauliflower.
The Cove’s menu is small and ever-changing, but it comes with a claim of local provenance that I found quite irresistible. “Venison is hunted by Arthur in his woods,” it reads. “Other meat is supplied by Jamie down the road. Fish is from the Channel; salad, greens, and whatever else is in season is grown 400 yards away. The dairy is in Northiam, and the egg layers all have names.” Adorable, yes, but more important than any of those things – the signage, the garden, the menu – is the fact that there’s a large print of the actor Nicolas Cage in the loo. It’s a moody, black-and-white shot of the Con Air star in a snakeskin jacket enjoying some quiet time with a small dog. Let’s hope he pops by some time soon for a plate of bitterballen and a traipse about the naturist cove.
We stopped by late on a Sunday afternoon for a sort of tea-stroke-dinner, having already had lunch elsewhere, and were planning only to graze on a few small plates. Things did not go to plan. The Cove makes fresh Scotch pancakes to go with its smoked salmon starter, and another starter of parmesan custard comes with anchovy toast. I adore Scotch pancakes, which are the more rib-sticking, sweeter cousin of the dainty, flimsy blini. We call them drop scones in Carlisle, and slather them with butter. Here at the Cove, they are warm and gloriously spongy, and come with the aforementioned smoked salmon, pickled cucumbers and light, whipped horseradish cream. The parmesan custard, meanwhile, was a pungent little number, set in a little bowl like a creme brulee, and was served with equally assertive, fish-butter-smeared toast.
You see, the Cove doesn’t serve straightforward pub food – it is grown-up and clever – but neither does it alienate family groups with the sort of cheffy whimsy that leaves your gran staring sadly at a plate of calf’s cheek in elderflower sap. The Sunday menu features a prawn cocktail made with brown shrimp and a house burger on brioche with crisp onions and the chips included. Such gestures go a long way when you’re trying to build good will in a community. The roast that day was a large portion of moist, rolled porchetta with an earthy, herby stuffing. It was served with fluffy Yorkshire puddings, roast carrots and some of the best roast potatoes I’ve ever eaten, and which came with a gorgeous, fresh, green dipping salsa. Yes, Yorkshire puds and salsa for Sunday dinner. Rulebook ripped up.
It was a mountain of food and of a fabulous quality, especially considering we ate at nearly 4pm, when most pubs are usually beginning to struggle. Those wanting something lighter should go for the shakshuka, a humble baked egg in tomatoes and peppers that really pack some heat. Another main of sea bass was made memorable by its warm accompanying salad of peas, beans and asparagus.
Dessert, although wildly unnecessary by this point, was a thing of simple beauty: a bowl of dark chocolate ganache – no buttery base, no shell, just ganache – with hazelnut praline on a puddle of creme fraiche. It left our table of three hushed and wildly territorial. Our order of “one pudding and three spoons” had felt correct when we’d made it, then this ganache arrived – airy, moreish, wickedly rich and proving why simple, French-influenced, home-style cooking will live on for ever.
The Cove is just a recently reopened pub with a paint job and a new menu near a beach in East Sussex, and it’s trying to make the locals happy. It doesn’t need to make waves nationally, but somehow I think it will.
The Cove 53 Waites Lane, Fairlight, East Sussex, 01424 814772. Open Weds-Sun, lunch 12.30-2.30pm (Sun and bank holidays 1-6pm), dinner 6.30-9pm. About £35 a head for three courses, plus drinks and service.
The next episode in the third series of Grace’s Comfort Eating podcast is released on Tuesday July 5. Listen to it here.
