The Inn at Freshford

Honey-coloured stone cottages, leafy courtyards, lamp-lit windows glowing in the dusk. Tranquil fields, wide-open skies, a gentle river flowing beneath an ancient bridge. Is Freshford — around 6m/10km south-east of Bath — the ultimate picture-perfect English village? That’ll be a yes, then. And, at the epicentre of village life, the historic Inn at Freshford.

As you’d expect from a hostelry that’s thrived on the same site for around 500 years, the Inn at Freshford has undergone plenty of changes of ownership down the decades. And so it came to pass that in December 2025, the pub reopened under the conscientious curatorship of William and Marianne Cartwright-Hignett of the acclaimed Iford Manor and its magical Cafe and Kitchen.

Anybody who knows anything about Iford Manor (and if you don’t, you really should) will know that heritage, community and sustainability are at the epicentre of what William and Marianne do. Their Executive Chef Matthew Briddon, meanwhile, maintains and upholds William and Marianne’s ethos and puts creativity, imagination and a clear passion for his vocation in the spotlight in every dish on his Inn at Freshford menu, while the environment itself couldn’t offer a more agreeable backdrop against which to indulge your senses in the whole Cartwright-Hignett/Briddon experience.

The Inn’s gorgeous gardens are undergoing a work-in-progress revamp in readiness for less murky days to come. But if you fancy escaping the murk before the sun joins the fun, take a trot around the pub’s interior flagstones where smart rustica meets contemporary expectations and offers a proper pub welcome to all, from dog-walkers (yeah, you say you’re taking the dog out but we all know you’re pausing for a pint or two mid-stroll) to mellow parties and reunions by way of loved-up couples and regulars for whom the lure of what’s probably the most perfect pub pork pie in history is well worth forgoing their waiting-at-home supper for. 

We settled in for the long-haul from the off with a menu that led us to choose then change then choose again then go back (etc, etc) creating the most delicious dithering/bickering session. Even the Grazing section reads like a paean to seasonality, local sourcing and innovation: Cornish Scallop ‘Quavers’ with Caviar Mayo or Pickled Devilled Quail Eggs? Lamb Belly ‘French Fries’ or Iford Cider Rarebit? 

Eventually, gracious (and patient!) Front of House supremo Alaina graciously (and patiently!) soothed our feverish brows and shared her advice. 

If you’ve never had a plate of scallop ‘quavers’, go here and put your order in RIGHT NOW, before scallop season ends. Wafer thin but still packing that intrinsically briny punch, super-crisp but still melting on the tongue, and accompanied by a creamy mayo topped with a mahoosive dollop of caviar, I guarantee that this is the best £10 you’ll ever spend on a ‘grazing’ dish, anywhere. Lamb Belly French Fries? Get in! Crispy, juicy, deeply umami and just-the-right-amount-of-fatty, nudged hither and thither with Cheddar cheese and laminated by a teasy little aioli. As for the pork pie…

Now I mentioned earlier that indulging in what’s probably the most perfect pub pork pie in history may lead to the necessity to forgo supper proper completely — and to be honest, we could (and probably should) have stopped right there, as portions here are generous to say the least. But after I’d eschewed my initial craving for the Pie of the Moment (pie after pie might not have worked out well), the Basque-style mussels in a garlic/white wine/saffron broth/reduction laden with creamy white beans and accompanied by both Iford bread and new potatoes had my name — or rather, Matthew’s signature style — written all over them, while Mike’s slow-cooked belly pork, balanced on a huge pile of mustard mash and partnered by the richest, earthiest black pudding known to man, was the stuff that elegantly macho man-dreams are made of.

Again, we could (and probably should) have stopped right there — but we didn’t. Having agreed to choose just one dessert between us, we had an airy, featherlight Dark Chocolate Mousse that cleverly straddled the bridge between playful pudding and sophisticated dessert topped with shards of honeycomb that took these two grown-ups back to their childhood days… and whoops! A Coffee Crème Brûlée too, smooth and velvety beneath its glass-like caramelised sugar lid and accompanied by a super-short shortbread biscuit for dunking into the silky custard (yes, I am a very messy eater).

William and Marianne have worked a very special kind of magic on the Inn at Freshford; it’s as unselfconsciously unpretentious as you’d hope a proper country pub to be, while Matthew’s foodie fireworks light up classic, proper pub food with aspirational yet distinctly non-ostentatious flair.

Is the Inn at Freshford the ultimate perfect English pub? As of December 2025, that’ll be a yes.