Game Week at the Freemasons, Wiswell: Roger Jones of the Harrow at Little Bedwyn

I always think hard about these guest chef nights at restaurants. The guest chef is working in a strange kitchen, with a bunch of cooks s/he's probably never met before, let alone worked with, and quite often with the host's suppliers not their own.
From the customer's point of view, you might be getting the guest chef's recipes, but you're in the dining room, which isn't the guest chef's dining room, the staff aren't theirs, neither is the wine list, coffee machine etc.  My point is, you're not getting the experience of going to the 'other' restaurant.  So, for me, the guest chef has to be sufficiently far away that it would be a real trouble (and expense, because these nights are never cheap) to get to.  Either that, or some element of competition or fun/theme that attracts me.

Little Bedwyn, between Marlborough and Newbury, is well over 200 miles from me, so a night at the Freemasons at Wiswell certainly wins on that score.  It's still not the same as going to the Harrow at Little Bedwyn though. But a lot easier.

Roger Jones has held a Michelin star at The Harrow since 2007.  But since Paul Heathcote hung up his apron, Michelin hasn't been able to draw its attention away from Northcote and the Box Tree, and they seem to be very reluctant to recognise the achievement of anywhere inbetween. Other guides largely follow suit. Certainly the Freemasons at Wiswell must be edging close to a star, but for this one night there was one star in residence.

One glance at the menu and I tried to tweet a picture saying, "Yes, that is going to do very nicely." But the signal in Wiswell is too bad to do that.

But before that, there were a couple of canapés to deal with.  First came a ball of tuna sashimi filled with a wasabi-flavoured cream cheese on a shiso leaf.  For me, I thought it was marginally too big, and could have coped with a little less of the filling: it was quite difficult to bite in two elegantly, but too big to pop in the mouth whole. The filling was, however, jolly good: like Boursin that's been on its holidays to Japan and wishes it hadn't come back. Not sure if this was Roger Jones' canapé, or whether host, Steve Smith had done both canapés.

The second canapé was one of Steve Smith's: a foie gras hot dog.  I've had this before, though as an accompaniment to soup.  This is a foie gras enriched boudin blanc which has been breadcrumbed and then fried, before being presented in a mini brioche bun.  Personally, I'd quite like to try these without the crumb and less pungent ball-game ketchup and mustard. Now I've written that, I can't get the idea of a truffle mayonnaise and a roast chicken fluid gel out of my mind over an un-crumbed foie gras hot dog.  Consider the challenge laid down, Mr Smith.

Steve Smith's foie gras hot dog

We then moved on to Roger Jones' menu proper, starting with a shot glass of Bull Shot - this was a really rich, deeply flavoured, jellied game stock spiked with vodka. I've had these Bull Shots before occasionally, but this one was distinguished by the really superb game consommé and just enough vodka that you could notice it, but not the alcohol.  And if that wasn't enough, the shot glass was topped with an excellent little biscuit.

Bull Shot

This was followed by Cured and Marinated Pembroke Lobster, Asian Spices.  The lobster tail had been marinated in extra virgin olive oil and spiced Halen Mon sea salt, apparently spiced with Thai Lobster Chilli Jam (which I couldn't really detect). It was presented on a large shiso leaf (which really added something), together with a rather interesting salted wafer-biscuit-cracker thing, some diced tomato and little blobs of pea purée and of carrot purée.  I didn't think the two purées really added much: if anything they took away from the freshness and brightness of the rest of the dish.  But the lobster was really terrific: a beautifully balanced set of subtle flavours.  For some reason it had never occurred to me reading the menu that the lobster would be merely only very lightly cured, so it was almost like a sashimi of lobster.  What you can't see in the photograph (it's behind the cracker) is that each plate had a perfectly prepared slice of the claw: the central cartilage had been neatly removed and then presumably the claw was reformed before being sliced vertically.  A terrific dish.

Cured and marinated Pembroke Lobster, Asian Spices

It was at this point that I re-read the menu and realised that Roger Jones had been really rather clever with the menu. The bulk of the menu could have been prepared in the kitchen at the Harrow in Little Bedwyn, entirely within Roger Jones' control, and brought up with him in the boot of the car. The amount of preparation needed from Steve Smith's brigade at Wiswell may well have been minimal, as indeed was the cooking required on the evening - which probably explained why the evening ran more smoothly, with fewer longeurs than is often the case with similar evenings elsewhere.

The next dish was Carpaccio of Northumberland Roe Venison, Wiltshire Truffles, Foie Gras Macaroon, Salted Caramel. Another really terrific dish.

Carpaccio of Northumberland Roe Venison, Wiltshire Truffles, Foie Gras Macaroon, Salted Caramel

Very good venison, sliced thick enough to be able to really taste it, but thin enough that it felt sexily silky in the mouth.  There was just a hint of something beyond the venison (identified on the menu as spices, truffle and cep dust), which would probably have been more noticeable by its absence than immediately identifiable by its presence. 
A slice of a small torchon of foie gras was the filling in a salted caramel macaroon, which initially seemed to be more of a counterpoint than an accompaniment.  But when combined with the reduced PX sherry dressing and the fresh (and massive) Wiltshire truffle that was liberally grated over half the plate at the table, it was really tied into the dish as a whole.  The menu also mentioned crisps, but neither of us could find anything on the plate that could be called crisps.

The final savoury dish was grouse: Breast of Young Grouse, Bon Bon, Parsnip Puree, Dates. Without a doubt (and leaving aside proper whole roast grouse with the traditional trimmings) this is the finest grouse dish of the last couple of years.  The breast was beautifully cooked and had a good flavour, without being excessively gamey.  The grouse bon bon was almost worth the trip on its own: a really good combination of grouse, black pudding, foie gras, chorizo and raisins.  A slightly odd combination maybe, and it would be easy to sigh at the use of the now ubiquitous chorizo, but there's no doubt it that really worked.  I could have eaten lots of these grouse bons bons.

When we initially read through the menu, we also wondered what on earth was the point of adding dates to parsnip purée. But by golly, it's good and I'll certainly be trying that one myself.  Though it did rather underline Roger Jones' apparent love of having something a bit sweet on most dishes.

Breast of Young Grouse, Bon Bon, Parsnip Puree, Dates

The interior of the foie gras bon bon

Dessert was a plate of blackberry things: blackberry parfait, a blackberry jaffa cake, a blackberry and champagne chocolate truffle and a distinctly moreish blackberry sorbet.  All the elements were spot on.  The chocolate truffle (in the background on the photograph) was momentarily challenging as everyone worked out how to eat it (cue the sound of a lot of spoons crashing onto the plates across the restaurant as everyone tried to cut it vertically), but once you went in horizontally, you found a remarkably thin, well-tempered chocolate shell filled with a ganache that tasted of what it was meant to.  Even if it perhaps wasn't the most visually appealing element, he blackberry jaffa cake seemed rather inspired to me: clearly a jaffa cake, adding a bit of weight to the dessert with its sponge.  A very nicely balanced dessert.

Blackberry

We had started with a 1970s hangover cure, the Bullshot, and finished on something remarkably similar. Resurrecting the now pretty much disappeared tradition of the end of meal savoury, with that classic, the Welsh Rarebit.  Remarkably, this wasn't the first Michelin-starred Welsh Rarebit I've had, though this deserved its rating far more than the other (at the Pipe & Glass in Yorkshire).  It's a bit boring to say it again, but this was quite possibly the finest Welsh Rarebit I've ever had.  Probably the most remarkable thing about it was how light it was, as well as the very finely judged balance of flavours.
According to the menu there are three different Welsh and English cheeses in it, along with fish (which we identified as anchovy), tamarind, ale and spices. All served on beer and truffle toast.

Welsh Rarebit

As we were both driving, we shared one of the matching wine packages.  Somewhat unfortunately, the wines were selected from the Freemasons list, not the utterly stupendous wine list of the Harrow at Little Bedwyn, which I've just spent an hour reading, or rather lusting over online. But the sommelier at the Freemasons had done a good job for the most part.
A very nice, 2011 The Opportunist Sauvignon-Riesling blend was a beautiful wine, excellent with the lobster.
2011 Sherwood Pinot Noir from New Zealand's Waipara Valley was not a wine to my taste, tooth-achingly young, and reminding me of Vimto-flavoured boiled sweets with added sherbert. It did not, we thought, go particularly well with the venison either.
2009 Painted Wolf Madach from Stellenbosch (a pinotage dominant blend with grenache, syrah, mourvedre and a bit of merlot) was also far too young really, but was a very good wine that worked extremely well with the grouse dish.
The All Saints Rutherglen Muscat served with the blackberry dessert avoided being cloying with some good acidity, and I thought the coffee and berry flavours worked well with the dessert.
A champagne flute of Wiswell Brew (a light session ale) was fine with the Welsh Rarebit, but felt a bit of a cop out, as surely there must be something on the Freemasons wine list that would have worked without risking mixing grain and grape. I'm thinking of a nice palo cortado.

Andrew Pern at The Freemasons

On 25th October 2011, Andrew Pern of the renowned Star at Harome in north east Yorkshire came over to the Ribble Valley to launch game week at the Freemasons at Wiswell, home for the last few years to the elevated cuisine of young chef Steve Smith, with a menu of game in the style of The Star at Harome.

I think the first thing to say is that this is not a review of The Freemasons at Wiswell, nor of the Star at Harome. (You can read my review of the Star at Harome by clicking here.) While they're far from uncommon, guest chef nights like this never show either the restaurant or the guesting chef at their best. It needs an incredibly strong kitchen brigade to adapt to a new boss for the night, cooking unfamiliar food, often in unfamiliar ways. Here, Andrew Pern was, I believe, on his own with the backup only of Steve Smith's brigade, none of his own.

For that reason, I'm often in two minds about such events. You don't see the best. You are not getting the experience of the guest chef's restaurant. Invariably, they're also always very slow to get started. On the one hand, this can be the result of the kitchen simply needing longer to get up to speed, but also, as kickoff approaches, there's schmoozing to be done.

Sadly, despite some excellent food, the most remarkable thing that lingers in the memory about this meal was the slowness of service. Billed as a 7 for 7.30 start, we were seated promptly, and were able to review the really good menu, which was - to be honest - what really attracted us to the evening, rather than it being Andrew Pern per se. Though it is, of course, an indicator of how attractive Pern's menus are.

£75 (wine-pairings another £30 for those not driving)

Canapés came out in several waves, with a complimentary glass of 2008 Juvé y Camps Rosé Cava, that was a little too like fizzy, watery Ribena for my taste.

The canapés were good, rather than great: the best were the shot glasses of "Bullshot" - a deeply flavoured  consommé with a real kick of presumably vodka. I couldn't quite work out whether it was a game consommé base or beef, as unfortunately I couldn't drink too much of it, due to driving.

Carpaccio of deer and mallard sausage roll

A carpaccio of deer and smoked trout with a fennel and apple remoulade was a really good combination, which I very much enjoyed, but it was marred by the over thick oat(?) biscuit on which it was served, which really did nothing apart from sap flavour from the venison and remoulade.  As these were seated canapés, it really didn't need anything to support it.  The mallard and mixed peel sausage rolls were tasty enough, but in the shadow of the carpaccio.

The starter was the punning "Salade Pérnigourdine" of Red-legged Partridge, Autumn Truffles and Locally Foraged Wild Mushrooms, Sticky Game Syrup

Salade Pérnigourdine

A generous portion, with both a breast and a confit (or at least well-roast) leg of partridge with a goodly number of chanterelles and a fried quails egg.  Although there was just one slice of truffle, its aroma was immediately noticeable when the plates were brought to the table, and unusually also carried a good flavour. The leg was lovely, with a good deep flavour. The breast on my plate was cooked distinctly rare, so much so that I think somebody had forgotten to turn it during the cooking process: the fillet was almost a bit of partridge sashimi.  Other plates had much better cooked (well, actually cooked) breasts, so this was obviously a kitchen error.  I seriously thought about sending it back, but a) I'm tough and b) we'd waited so long for this first course to arrive, I didn't want to risk delaying service still further.  Despite being so undercooked, I thought it was still a good flavour and overall I really enjoyed this dish: a clever combination and a clever name. And I say that as somebody who finds most puns severely groan-worthy.

Not sending my partridge back was clearly a good decision, as the delay for the next course was really far too long.  Even more surprising given that it was a dish that merely required plating, with no (further) cooking required.

Terrine of smoked pheasant, savoy cabbage and beetroot with walnut and quince dressing

The terrine was billed as Home Smoked Harome Shot Pheasant with Savoy Cabbage and Beetroot, Walnut and Quince Dressing.  The Savoy cabbage wasn't especially evident, in contrast to the two beetroots which I felt rather dominated the terrine.  Separating the pheasant out, it was nicely, gently cooked, very subtly smoked.  Unusually for a smoked bird, it greatly benefited from a bit of salt.  I think if the amount of beetroot had been halved, then this would have been a much better dish.  I have to admit that I didn't really get the "dressing" - pieces of quince and walnut do not make a dressing in my mind.

Yet another long wait for the next course, and again a rather puzzling delay, as it was essentially a soup, though, assuming it wasn't water-bathed,  the slice of pigeon breast in each demitasse would have to be cooked à la minute.

Chestnut and lentil soup 

The menu described this as Wood Pigeon, Chestnut and Lentil Broth with Sourdough Bread.  I really enjoyed this, though its billing with Wood Pigeon headlining rather disingenuously overestimated the importance of the pigeon in the dish.  It is also worth mentioning that the cutlery provided for this course was a small teaspoon: the slice of pigeon was just a bit big for a single mouthful.  I am increasingly irritated by chefs who do not properly consider how a dish is eaten at table by customers, though this was very far from the worst example of this sort of mismatch I've come across.
The pigeon was perfectly cooked, and very tender. The broth was utterly gorgeous: deeply flavoured with a rich, velvety texture, thankfully avoiding the grainy-floury texture that chestnuts can sometimes lend to dishes like this.

Now we really noticed the delay.  We had started at 7.30 and when we looked at our watches, we saw it was gone 10:20 and we were still waiting for main courses.  Fortunately in a rural setting like Wiswell (a tiny village in the Ribble Valley), nobody is reliant on public transport: in a more urban setting, I think a number of diners might have started to become rather nervous by this point.  I'm also not convinced that it's appropriate on a Tuesday night, when most people have to be at work in the morning.

Anyway, when it arrived, we got some beautiful venison, in less convincing company: Fallow Deer - Roast Saddle with Homemade Juniper Sausage, Wensleydale-creamed Cavolo Nero, Baked Plum 'Tatin', Green Ginger Wine Juices.  From the description alone, you can tell that this is not 'less is more' dish.

Saddle of fallow deer with juniper sausage

The venison was perfect, and while initially uncertain about the cabbage, I quickly grew to appreciate it in combination with the venison and the sauce. I didn't really detect much of the ginger wine in what seemed to me just a very good stock based sauce, but wasn't overly concerned by that. But the other two elements seriously let down the dish. The juniper "sausage" was a mousseline, presumably chicken, not overly-flavoured with juniper, though that may be down to mine being ... how shall we put this ... hmm ... a little over-browned? The plum tatin should have worked.  I'm not sure what the inverted commas around 'Tatin' on the menu were about: it was a tatin.  Unfortunately, it had been put in the sauce on the plate, and had been there for sufficently long enough before it came to the table, that it was a baked plum on a very sorry messy of soggy pastry.  If they'd left the pastry out, there'd be nothing to complain about, as the plum worked well.  Mine wasn't the only plate that went back with a lump of soggy dough on it.

Thankfully, things sped up a little now and at ten past eleven, dessert arrived and took us back to excellence.  I'm far from a fan of chocolate desserts (I find them a little heavy at the end of a meal) and whisky is not my drink, so wasn't particularly looking forward to Dark Chocolate and Famous Grouse Whisky Mousse, 'Singing' Johnnie' Sorbet, Hazelnut Peat.  But this was very well conceived and executed.  The whisky was in the form of a light jelly, the mousse just right, and the sorbet actually just a very good raspberry sorbet.  I asked what Singing Johnnies had to do with it, but nobody seemed to know.  The peat seemed to be a dark caramel hazelnut brittle, partly ground up, partly a shard on top: it added just the right note of texture without making the dish any heavier.

Coffee was the usual good coffee that the Freemasons produces, though I thought the accompanying pates de fruits could have been a little less set, and contrary to all expectations we actually managed to leave on the same day we arrived.

This was a meal with ups and downs, though the most serious down was the slowness of service.  I don't know whether that was the result of a problem in the kitchen, unfamiliarity of the kitchen brigade with the chef and the style of food, or not quite managing to pull off a banquet style service, or some other reason. I can't believe it was by design.