Good afternoon everybody,
Looking back, as I have been wont to do when composing these letters of late, Moro was the place where it all started. It was 2006. Hugo was 'resting' between acting jobs when he handed his CV in at Moro restaurant on Exmouth Market to Sean the tattooed general manager (Sean was to become something of a mentor to Hugo, for his passion, high standards and obsession with perfectly aligning tables, chairs and table settings). One shift a week to start with whilst he moonlighted with his previous employers Smiths of Smithfield (that's another story) soon became a full-time waiting position, then head waiter, Maître d', and finally general manager of next door tapas bar Morito when it opened in 2010. It was during the Morito years that Kate started as a chef in the main restaurant kitchen. The rest, as they say...
Anyway, I actually wanted to talk about my time at Moro as a section waiter. I was fortunate to join a diverse, idiosyncratic front of house team, most of whom were massivley into food and restaurants. Monday lunch shifts would inevitably include a dissection of the weekend's restaurant reviews, and plans would be hatched to visit the latest openings. I can still remember vivdly the excitement of my first trip to Giaconda Dining Room following Matthew Norman's glowing review in the Guardian. This was a perfect french restaurant run by an Australian couple who had cut their teeth at Le Gavroche under Albert Roux and then worked at some of the top restaurants in Paris, and brought to bear the resulting savoir faire to a bijou site on Denmark Street, amongst the guitar shops and gig venues. It was pretty much a two-person band; Paul cooked the food and Tracey commanded the floor with an authority that was charming and no-nonsense. The opening hours reflected this; Monday to Friday only, a two hour lunch service and a three hour dinner service. Even then, this kind of operation in central London was very, very unusual. Now it would be completely unthinkable. From that first visit with my friends and fellow Moro waiters Flo and Jason I still recall a superb chicken liver parfait, followed by duck confit, and then chocolate mousse for dessert, washed down with a rich, off-dry Alsace Gewurtztraminer recommended by Tracey. Giaconda had a pretty good run, and I enjoyed several subsequent meals there until it finally closed in 2014.
Over the years I often wondered what had become of Paul and Tracey until one day some years ago I discovered that they had relocated to Sherborne, Dorset, and opened a small hotel with a restaurant attached. It wasn't until earlier this year that I finally managed to get there. Kate and I were visiting Frankham Farm to meet Duncan and Charlotte Ross. Duncan had taken over the family farm, converted to organic, and was now growing some Mariagertoba wheat. Eyeing a potential grain supplier Kate got in touch and we arranged to go and see them. When I realised the farm was just outside Sherborne we hastily tweaked our timings to ensure we could fit in a lunch at Newell Restaurant. There was Tracey, elegant and assured, running the small, simply furnished room. Paul, we were told, was in the kitchen, on his own to deliver the above menu (actually, this is not the actual menu we ordered from as taking phone photos in a restaurant as old school as this would have felt plain wrong, but you get the idea).
There's a lovely feeling you get in places like this, when you're lucky enough to find them—hen's teeth etc.—a combination of relaxation and anticipation because you just know it's going to be good. This is resolutely old fashioned cooking that aims to satisfy, not dazzle, with produce that is honest and not fetishised. We started with green beans vinaigrette, celeriac remoulade, and duck liver mousse. Mains were gigot of lamb with gratin dauphinoise and guinea fowl with morels. For dessert we shared a charlotte, a stunning confection of light sponge, Bavarian cream and raspberry sauce. From the small but very good wine list we drank a superb white from the Pyrenees. Although this sounds like a very rich meal, the deftness of the cookery meant we left pleasantly full, with that warm glow that a really good lunch gives you; you come blinking into the afternoon sunlight and almost miraculously, half the day still lies ahead.
Anyway, back to Hamblin. This week there will be little blocks of our vanilla fudge for sale, a classic recipe (no golden syrup!) flavoured with vanilla and sea salt, as well as pots of rice pudding. Also in the cheese fridge you'll find Appleby's Cheshire, the last remainin raw-milk, cloth-bound version, in all it's crumbly, tangy deliciousness and an oozy and ripe batch of St Cera. On the pastry counter we're please to see the return of the damson bun, featuring late season fruit from Styan swirled into crème diplomat. Finally a quick word on some of the savoury items. Our white pizza with crème fraîche and roast garlic has been topped with either red onion or roast aubergine for almost as long as any of us can remember so it's pleasing to note that this week it will be new-season Crown Prince squash. On the sandwich front there will be salami and Bergkäse at Iffley and roast pork collar with apple sauce at the Covered Market.
That's a wrap for this week. A thousand thanks as always and we wish you a happy Sunday and a good start to the week,
Hugo and Kate