i’s chicken pie looks like a picture from an old british cookbook, held in an oval shaped terracotta dish and capped with a pie crust that lets of steam through a criss-cross in its centre. my kedgeree is crowned with a boiled egg, quartered and arranged in a circle. The yolks of the egg are firm and yet soft, a rather dark yellow rather than a light one that comes from hard-boiling an egg. there is a sprinkling of green herb. the rice is held in a sauce that is essentially a curried cream, a muted turmeric in colour. there are large flakes of haddock in every forkful. it is the perfect antidote to a cold rainy night.
full to the brim, i and i summon the tea menu only to be tempted further by the rhubarb crumble. it takes it time in arriving but we are pleasantly occupied with our tea and teapots that are dressed in tiny tea-cosies with different patterns. the crumble sticks tentatively to the sides, owing to the oozing sweetened rhubarb which is just right – not too sweet and not too tart. however, i still maintain that my mum’s crumble is the best. somehow no crumble i have had has been able to measure up to the crunch and crisp of mum’s. the trick is to let the top brown ever so slightly and that takes patience [and perhaps more time than a restaurant can allow]. the custard is thin and tastes distinctly of vanilla bean.