Food. glorious Food

Food, glorious food!
Hot sausage and mustard!
While we're in the mood --
Cold jelly and custard!
Pease pudding and saveloys!
What next is the question?
Rich gentlemen have it, boys --
In-di-gestion!

The orphan boys seated round the workhouse table in Oliver! the film, and their less happy cousins in Dickens’ book would have been satisfied with good, wholesome home cooking instead of the gruel which was their daily fare. I admit to an unashamed liking for fine dining, i.e. a good dinner in good company, eaten slowly, every texture and flavour savoured. Not mere feeding, in other words. I don’t greatly care for the palaver of white linen napery, fancy cutlery and a scrum of waiters in black monkey suits falling over themselves to refill my glass after every sip. Puree of this and foam of that you can keep too. To me that’s the elevation of show over substance; besides, I don’t go for camp.

My kind of place is The Stagg Inn at Titley in Herefordshire. It’s the destination of choice for the discerning foodie for miles around. A friend of ours recently had the big 6-0 birthday; thinking what would give her most pleasure we hit on the idea of a memorable meal as a belated present.

The Stagg is a very attractive roadside inn, right in the middle of the black and white villages of the Marches border country. It’s fame has spread as far as the States, R.W. Apple, Associate Editor of the New York Times, reviewed his experience here in glowing terms. When you enter the very modest doorway there is neither pomp nor circumstance. The Stagg is friendly, down-to-earth, but the skills behind the kitchen door would put many a grander establishment to shame. There is more modesty here than you could shake a Welsh leek at.

You sit on upholstered chairs at wooden tables, set on wooden floors, the decor is so simple as to be non-existent; all is clean and fresh and comfortable.

It’s only when you read the menu that you realise you are in Michelin territory.

It was no easy task to choose our dishes, but this is what we had between the three of us:

 Duck liver parfait, smoked duck breast, fig

 Marinated mackerel, orange pickled carrots, tarragon cream

Madgett’s Farm duck: Confit of leg, roast breast, turnip, kale, cider potato fondant  

 Lamb:  Chop, almond coated Moroccan spiced shoulder, apricot, lemon, potato dauphine

Springfield farm chicken breast, artichoke, purple sprouting, potato dauphinoise

Having made our choice, we stuck with it; there was none of that “let’s have a taste of yours” which is all very well when it’s a question of stealing a potato chip (French fries) but rather vulgar in a rarefied atmosphere as this.

Only two of us had room for pudding, we chose home made ice creams and sorbets; the coffee came with truffles and there was a small chocolate goodies bag to take home as well.

We think our friend enjoyed her present.