Review: The Redan Inn, Chilcompton

The Redan Inn (Chilcompton, just 10 miles/16 km south of Bath) has sat on the Fry’s Well/Wells Road junction for… ooh, centuries. Like many of the hostelries around these yer parts, it was once a coaching inn. But in recent history, owners have moved on faster than the stagecoach that shunted mail twixt Bath and Wells. 

At last, however, The Redan can relax. Today, it’s thriving in the capable hands of the Somerset Pub Company, a lively, fairly new enterprise headed up by people with masses of impressive experience in running modern proper pubs on their CVs. 

As one would expect from such experience, the SPC’s Redan represents an outstanding example of the point where downhome tradition meets smart contemporary expectations: have a pint at the sparkly bar, lounge on a banque or cosy up at a table for two, on solid farmhouse furniture painted thoughtful shades of heritage hues and softened by plumped-up cushions. Roaring fires and cheerful vintage advertising paraphernalia add to the warm welcome, while fresh flowers here, a stag’s head on the wall over there and contented dogs lounging at the feet of their contented owners all combine to bolster the linger-long environment. And you could linger for much longer than it takes you to finish off that last orders pint, too; seven stylish rooms above the pub offer respite for travellers who want to explore Somerset in style. 

We weren’t staying over on the evening we visited The Redan Inn, but by the time it came to bid farewell we wished we were. 

The food menu here (currently in the process of being given a seasonal makeover, so keep up at the back via the pub’s website) includes time-honoured gastropub classics along the fish and chips/burger/perfect pie/pizza theme – exactly what you’d expect from a hostelry such as this; we couldn’t help ordering a Black Pudding Scotch Egg bar snack just because it was there (and I’m so glad it was, and we did). 

But the foodie flourish dishes set alongside the classic array are seriously, properly fascinating. Take, for example, a starter of barbecued tenderstem broccoli served with a silky satay sauce and a revitalising cucumber and sesame salad: beautifully constructed, perfectly balanced. Or what about gin cured smoked trout with lemon fennel, pickled cucumber and chive creme fraiche? Like the broccoli, it was the sort of intelligent, self-assured dish you’d expect to find on an upper-crust tasting menu but without the faff, over-formal ceremony or hefty price tag.

My main course waltzed to a similar beat: buttery pan roasted salmon, velvety creamed potatoes and an impressive Beurre Blanc sauce teased with capers to cut through any hint of over-richness; the Redan Inn kitchen has bought Classic French Cordon Bleu cookery to Chilcompton.

Meanwhile, his sturdy dish of the day – while equally as gracious in execution as my salmon – put a strapping smoked pork tomahawk (see pic) into the spotlight, served with the creamiest, nuttiest, neatest potato dauphinoise ever and a local cider sauce that I have it on very good authority was good enough to be “swigged from a tankard, with proper pork scratchings for dipping” (ask nicely, and The Redan would probably rustle that very combination up for you – it’s that kind of friendly place). 

We shared (or rather, politely fought over) a Triple Chocolate Brownie too – a treat so decadent, fudgy and chocolate-laden that it led me to demand head chef Rhys to sit down and share his brownie secrets with me which he very kindly did, alongside all-kinds-of-everything both ‘chef tip’ related and his general kitchen inspirations; trust me when I tell you that this is a young chef who’s going places and taking the The Redan with him – and, or course, vice-versa.

All this and more made me vow to become a Redan regular – after all, it’s less than half an hour’s drive from Bath (slightly longer by stagecoach). But what of the ‘more’ part of that promise? Well, there’s a gorgeous split-level terrace/garden to explore, all twinkly lights, lounge-around furnishings and manicured brambles, which whispers promises of sun-to-come. There’s a kitchen garden currently being thoroughly revitalised by a team of committed locals, and talk of film nights, festivals and barbecues when that sun finally comes out to play again.

And underpinning it all, there’s a genuine, welcoming conviviality at the heart of everything that The Redan Inn is doing that makes you want to be part of it too.

Napulé Ristobar Pizzeria, Bath

The last time we visited 16 Windsor Villas was back in 2021, just after the third national Covid lockdown put the UK into ‘an enhanced national tier 4 situation’ which basically translated as stay at home (again!) unless you’ve got very good reason for leaving the house, as in popping out to pick up a takeaway. 

One bleak, chilly evening, we masked up and meandered over to Lower Weston to get pizzas from what was then the Indian Pizza Company; I vaguely remember one of us having the New Delhi Feast which felt slightly incongruous on top of a thin crust, stone baked base but hey, who cared? Somebody else was cooking for us.

Three years on and I’m reliving a scene from Groundhog Day. It’s another bleak, chilly evening and we’re setting off to grab another pizza (to eat in somebody else’s kitchen this time around) which, what with the name of the restaurant that’s magpied into the premises vacated by the Indian Pizza Company being Napulé Ristobar Pizzeria, I’m guessing will be far less incongruous than the previous, short-lived funky fusion mash-up. Then suddenly…

What the hell is that noise that both our phones are making? Ah, it’s our good friends in the government issuing an emergency alert and almost causing several car crashes by telling us to stay at home; Storm Darragh is, it seems, the new lockdown. Our response? Keep calm and carry on! We’ve done it before, have we not? And anyway, we’ve almost reached our destination and so far, it’s all quiet on the Weston front. 

Napulé looks like the kind of downhome Italian diner that you’d find in a suburban neighbourhood on the edge of Naples, or Brooklyn, or Hackney: a brightly-lit little beacon of cosiness lighting up the corner of an erstwhile prosaic neighbourhood junction. You can smell what’s cooking as you approach the front door: that heady mix of freshly-cooked dough, oregano and melting cheese calls you in from the cold. But baby, it’s warm inside: a smart, fresh cafe-style set-up with cerulean blue furniture, an open kitchen and a huge, muted TV on the wall screening an Italian prime-time TV channel. Owner Claudia greets us like we’re old friends; her co-owner husband Alfredo takes a break from his duties beyond the pass to nod and smile.

We chat about the weather, and the storm alert, and how so many restaurants in Bath are closing early tonight, and how we might as well stay put where we are now we’ve made it to the restaurant and hope we can get home afterwards. Personally, I don’t mind if we don’t; as long as the heating’s left on, I’m happy to hole up until the storm passes, for as long as that might be.

We order a glass of fizz and a Negroni and start our Napulé feast off with massive, oozy balls of Arancini Siciliana and fat, frangible Calamari Fritti. Both dishes are good – very, very good. 

We order a bottle of Syrah and forge on: a proper lasagne for him, which comes laden with silky-soft, herb- and tomato sauce-laden meat wedged in between gratifyingly perfect pasta and loaded with cheese. I opt for the La Lorena pizza, a Special writ large on the dinky little chalkboard on the evening we visited: smoked cheese and generous slivers of smoked Italian ham on a white base (“Bianca? Nessun problema!”), the all-important dough crisp, charred and puffy in all the right places. Our dishes are wholly satisfying incarnations of the homemade, authentic Italian ristobar/pizzeria genre, free of attempts to show off anything other than what they claim to be: generous portions of really, really good classic Italian food.

Claudia and Alfredo are, as it turns out, seasoned aficionados of Bath’s Italian restaurant scene, with decades of hospitality industry experience between them – and that experience shows. They know what we want from a casual Italian supper, and they know that that isn’t always about the sparkling chandeliers, flashy grand designs and complicated reconstructions of classic Italian dishes that increasingly define the wave of new Italian restaurants currently dominating the Bath restaurant scene. 

By the time we reluctantly waved goodbye to Claudia, Alfredo and a merry band of cheerful current or former Italian restaurant owners who, like us, weren’t going to let a weather warning rain on their parade, the winds had properly whipped up, the rain was lashing down and Darragh was gearing up to be devastating. 

But as Lord Byron – a man who was as big a fan of both Italy and over-wordiness as I am – once (sorta) said, “find the rainbow in the storms of life: the evening beam that smiles the clouds away, and tints tomorrow with prophetic ray.” 

We found that rainbow at Napulé. 

Review: new menu at The Mint Room, Bath

Indian restaurant life in Bath, 2012. The Boojon Tandoori on Charles Street was the place to go for a decent midweek curry, the cavernous Rajpoot (the one with the doorman who used to stand, in full Raj regalia, on Pulteney Bridge) represented special occasion exotica and Bath chefs craving a butter chicken on their night off used to flock to the Bengal Brasserie (Milsom Street). Those were the days? Well, kinda… but not really.

Slowly but surely, our tastes and expectations were a-changin’. While the concept of ‘going for a curry’ was as popular as it ever was and ‘Indian’ food topped the takeaway charts over Chinese and even fish and chips across the UK, our understanding of the massive cultural diversity of cuisine originating from the largest subcontinent in the world was gathering momentum; the perfect time, then, for The Mint Room to open its doors.

The Mint Room turned what was ostensibly a breeze block box a stone’s throw away from a garage forecourt into an urbane, subtly glamorous and Very Grown Up alternative to ‘the curry house’ and brought a taste of upper-crust Modern Indian food to the erstwhile barren landscape of the Lower Bristol Road. Heck, it even featured a rooftop cocktail bar and terrace offering cityscape views that felt closer to uptown NY rather than downtown BA2; suddenly, Bath’s Indian restaurant scene was, in the best possible way, all shook up.

12 years on, and The Mint Room hasn’t rested on its laurels. A host of dinner events hosted by legendary chef Saurav Nath (Benares; Gymkhana) proved to be the hottest supper club tickets of 2024, and a raft of new menu items that add yet more intrigue and fascination to an already fascinating, intriguing menu have recently landed, to be enjoyed in twinkly-lit, elegant surroundings (grab a plush booth if you can), served to you by friendly, knowledgeable staff who glide rather than bustle you through the whole experience, and supplemented by a wine list that reads like an oenophiles dream.

You could, should you so wish, remain on the familiar path of least resistance and order an onion bhaji followed by a chicken tikka here; I guarantee that both dishes will shake up all previous perceptions of such tried-and-tested, familiar choices at prices that belie the quality on offer. But why would you do that when smoky, slightly bittersweet, tamarind- and mint-laden Karsoori Chicken Tikka (you too can enjoy a taste of Gymkhana, here in Bath) rules the chicken roost? 

We tried the Banarasi Aloo Tikki Chaat too: an upmarket spicy potato patty artfully muddled with crispy spinach, wriggly moong dal, smooth-but-crunchy nylon sev (no, not a spelling mistake: super-thin crispy-crunchy noodles made from gram flour. Who knew? Not I, until now!), sweet yoghurt and pomegranate jewels; party ON, in my mouth!

But oh, the Tandoori Dil Salmon! At first menu-description glance, it seemed kinda outta place in a modern Indian oasis: dill, honey, garlic… mustard mayo? Isn’t that more gastropub and less – well, Indian? Not when those big, gleaming fillets have been marinated with roasted red pepper and dustings of cumin and garam masala (am I right, Mint Room kitchen?) before being subjected to the fierce heat of the tandoor for the perfect amount of time to make it crispy on the outside and softly slinky within; indeed, few gastropubs could attempt to scale such dizzy heights. And if tandoor magic’s your thing, you must try, like we did, the Chatpata Chicken Kebab too: robust but tender chicken thighs laden with rich, smoky Kashmiri chillies and pungent caram seed (think, oregano or thyme, perhaps, punching well above their weight).

Did we end there? We could have done – and, probably, should have done. But neither the roar of the Lamb Rarrah Gosht (glazed, tandoori-spiced lamb rump, keema masala, rogan jus – ROGAN JUS!) or the gentle whisper of the Classic Old Delhi Chicken Tikka Masala (chicken, tomatoes, green cardamom, ginger – it’s called ‘classic’ for very good reason) could be ignored… so we gave them our full attention, and didn’t for one moment, on any level, regret our actions. 

Whether you mourn, celebrate or remain merely indifferent to the passing of the likes of the Boojon, the Rajpoot and the Bengal Brasserie will depend on your personal experiences of those restaurants at the time (mine, I’m lucky enough to say, were all good). But having The Mint Room on our doorstep is cause for celebration for all; competent, confident and inspirational, this is modern Indian cookery at its very, very best.

Review: Festive Feast at Bandook Kitchen, Milsom Place, Bath

“Happy happies! Go forth and feast…”

I’m very open about my love for Bandook Kitchen, the highly-acclaimed Mint Room’s playful little sister at the heart of Bath’s Milsom Place ‘Quarter’. 

You can read all about how much and why I love BK in this review, published last year: “I love the restaurant’s style, audacity and overall vibe,” I wrote; “I love how it’s filled a big gap in the Bath eating out scene by blending upper-crust modern Indian dining with a casual, welcoming, affordable ethos that’s effortlessly uplifting, and unselfconsciously soul-soothing.”

Clickety-click on that review link and you’ll also get a bit of Bandook Kitchen history, and its sense of place on the Bath food and drink scene — oh go on, take a look, if only to save me repeating myself here.

I revisit BK on a regular basis: on date nights (yes, we still have date nights, almost two decades on from our very first date night), or with friends, or simply on those evenings when I just can’t be bothered to cook. As of fairly recently, I can even go there for breakfast; why have a bacon buttie when you can have a Kolkata Breakfast Roll?  

So, while Bandook Kitchen is most definitely for life and not just for Christmas, there’s currently yet more reason to be cheerful here as the restaurant has supplemented their a la carte menu with a Festive Feast (£45pp) that kicks traditional festive formats to the kerb and thoroughly revitalises jaded British palates in a way that only BK can; heck, they’ve even worked their magic on turkey! Meanwhile, if you’ve yet to wise up to the fact that BK is also one of Bath’s best cocktail hotspots, this is your moment — and if you make the most of that moment with a Mumbai Winters (Single Malt Talisker, Campari Liqueur, orange and lime juice, sugar syrup) from the Christmas Cocktail menu, I guarantee that you won’t regret it.

If Christmas is all about the glam, the glitter, and the sparkle, BK has it nailed from the get-go. Milsom Place itself is a winter wonderland right now (there’s even a proper Christmas Grotto at the epicentre of the beautifully-decorated proceedings) and BK’s dishes go large on presentation bling. 

We started our Festive Feast with Pani Puri: crispy little semolina shell baubles ready to be filled with tantalising Jal Jeera water (there’s definitely mint, cumin, ginger, chilli, salt and something fruity in the mix, and cumin, and maybe citrus too?) and downed in one… or broken midway between plate and mouth, sending shards of shell all over the table and Jal Jeera all down your top (or maybe that’s just me.) 

Etiquette crisis over, we moved on to a lively, vibrant, Mango Salad: slivers of mango, peppers and carrots muddled with onions and chilli and topped with a mango and lemon dressing. You know how we all tend to think that Christmas menus have nothing to do with salad? Think again.

And oh, behold the glorious prettiness of the Samosa Chaat: a ‘deconstructed Punjabi vegetable samosa’ topped with lightly curried chickpeas and thick yoghurt, drizzled and dotted hither and thither will all manner of jewel-coloured dots and drizzles including pomegranate seeds that always, always make me go “oooh!”.

We slid in a plate of squid too, because we just can’t ‘do’ BK without ‘doing’ the Squid Koliwada: crisp mollusc morsels tossed around on waves of spice, onion and peppers, a dish with which a drink (by this time I’d moved on to the French 75 cocktail) really is too wet without one.

Now I’m not saying that any of the build-up dishes were stocking fillers — far from it. But we were poised to fill our boots with the main event, Awadhi Lamb Shank Biryani: a huge, glorious medley of pastry-topped, long’n’slow lamb shank (a turkey version is also available, trad-fans) falling off the bone into a rich broth of soporific spice-infused gravy and aromatic rice. As if that’s not enough in itself, the decadent dish is served with a supporting cast including a thick, creamy Hyderabadi-style Burani Raita, Daal Panchmel, Kurkurit Bhindi (aka super-crispy okra), Jakhiya Aloo (that’s the spuds taken care of, then), nutty, spicy, tamarind-infused Mirch Salan, saffron-infused Sheermal Paratha and garlic and chive naan. Complex, attention-grabbing and dramatic; fascinating, filling, fabulous: phew! 

No really, we couldn’t possibly have pudding. Yes actually, we really did: moist Christmas Pudding, laden with fruit and spices; light and creamy Ginger Creme Brulee, that I thought I wouldn’t be able to manage but lapped up like a cat who discovers where the cream has been hidden on Christmas eve.

Bandook Kitchen has the kind of effervescent sparkle that makes you feel as though it’s Christmas every day all year round courtesy of menus that are just as uplifting on, say, a drizzly lunch time in March, or a balmy summer evening. But at this time of the year, it ups the festive ante with unique, magical flavours served in fairytale surroundings.

Happy happies indeed! Now go forth and feast…

A weekend at Montigo Resorts Somerset at Charlton House – and the Tiigo Bottomless Brunch

We’re sitting on a plush sofa in a historic walled garden surrounded by mature apple trees that cling to the 17th century stonework and squirrels who occasionally take a break from their scurrying, squirrelly business to peep at us from behind the hedgerows on the rolling lawns beyond our little courtyard.

The sun is thinking about setting behind the soft, hazy clouds of an unseasonably warm British autumn, and a stylish fire pit embedded in our table is chasing any hint of chills away.

I’m totally blissed out following a sublime facial and massage in the hands of an expert, and slowly sipping a classic tart/sweet Mojito while he’s opted for glugging (he can’t help himself! And I don’t blame him…) a complex Oaxacan Negroni: smoke, citrus and spice working together in perfect harmony.

Our Pan-Asian fusion feast arrives: a fragrant Gai Pad Krapow teeming with aromatic Thai basil; a sweetly spicy Sri Lankan chicken curry; a little dish of deeply umami kimchi rice; a second little dish of softly punchy Kottu Roti. Mid-feast, I’ll experience, for the first time, the deep thrill of a Spicy Margarita while he gets lost in his Lost in Asia: a vodka martini, twisted up with lychee, grapefruit, grenadine. Oh, we’re in heaven… in Shepton Mallet, some 16 miles/26km southwest of Bath and around 5 miles/8km east of Wells.

If you’re local to Bath, you’ll already be aware that the historic little market town of Shepton Mallet is nestled in an area of outstanding natural beauty that acts as the gateway to the Mendip Hills. Montigo Resorts Somerset at Charlton House takes that ‘outstanding natural beauty’ vibe and maxes out on it: a county house hotel and spa set within and against an elegantly sprawling backdrop of manicured lawns, water features and magical historic flourishes, featuring a collection of characterfully stylish bedrooms and suites, restaurants, bars, a striking orangery and a recently-refurbished thermal spa to explore… and spa pet-pampering services too.

Our exotic Saturday afternoon adventure took place in the hotel’s Tiigo: a flexible indoor/outdoor space with its own dedicated Tiki Bar and kitchen, perfect for pop-ups, private events… and the 2-hour bottomless brunch, which puts a range of wholly authentic Asian-themed dishes with a playful twist in the menu spotlight, accompanied by a limitless selection of expertly hand-crafted signature cocktails for the all-inclusive, ‘bottomless’ price of £60pp (but you can choose to go a la carte, should you be less indulgent than we are.) It’s a vibrant, sensual, fun experience, the like of which you’re extremely unlikely to find elsewhere in the surrounding countryside – or even, perhaps, anywhere else in the south west. And the same could be said for the hotel itself…

We checked in on a Friday evening, having driven through the kind of weather that doesn’t really make it clear where the heavy storm clouds end and the road begins. The house acted as a beacon of inviting relief looming above the fog before we’d even set foot in reception: a grand fusion of Baroque flourishes, classic Regency-era renaissance vibes and cutesy Jacobean brickwork, the sound of a waterfall calmly tinkling in the background defying the clatter of rolling thunder as we left the car behind for the weekend.

Our bolthole for the following two nights was Orchard View: a stylishly quirky, super-pretty wood-panelled room on the first floor, complete with its own little private balcony surrounded by greenery and overlooking part of the hotel’s grounds. The bathroom? A smart, gleaming paean to contemporary luxury with a massive roll-top bathtub and a huge walk-in shower. The bed? An antique four-poster, hoorah! The room had a fairy tale vibe – and we felt like the king and queen of a magical castle.

We had dinner in the hotel’s restaurant: an elegant, window-lined chill-out zone surrounded by several plush, opulent bar areas and a big alfresco terrace, the whole area bathed in softly-lit sparkle. Menus skip along to a confident modern British/Asian fusion beat; over two nights, we happily skipped along with that beat, with dishes such as Pressed Braised Ox Cheek with Celeriac Puree, Asian Steak Tartare, Tandoori Monkfish Tail, Cider-braised Pork Belly and Chocolate Delice standing out for particular acclaim. It’s an accessible array, exceedingly well-priced for the quality on offer and beautifully presented, supplemented by a bistro menu (all-day brunches; classics on a burger/steak theme) for those in search of a less formal bite… and superb breakfast options the following morning.

After sampling one of those superb breakfasts, a little slice of Saturday morning was All About Me – well, me and Yaya, an Indonesian massage therapist with apparently magical powers in her fingertips. While He occupied himself in the whirlpool, sauna, steam room, indoor/outdoor pool and Roman-inspired Laconium adjacent to the calm, softly-scented surroundings of the Charlton House Spa sanctuary itself, Yaya took years off me – literally! – with a gently-intense facial, shoulder, arm and lower leg massage that left me floating on a cloud of wellbeing after which I was capable of doing nothing but fall into a deep sleep on our fairytale four-poster bed, the sound of a gentle wind whispering through the leaves that surrounded our little balcony my lullaby – bliss.

Renewed, refreshed and reinvigorated, I was ready to visit Tiigo and get worldly again… which brings us back full circle to the point where this review began, on that sofa in that historic courtyard sipping those perfect cocktails before our pan-Asian foodie adventure.

Montigo Resorts Somerset at Charlton House is a rising star on the Somerset country house hotel scene, offering loved-up couples, friends reunited, wedding parties and families (including those with their four-legged friends in tow) alike a very warm welcome whatever the occasion – or on no particular occasion at all other than the fact that you should Just Do It. It’s a charming, accessibly luxurious, fashionably elegant away-from-it-all haven, staffed by a team of lovely, genuine people.

It is, overall, genuinely lovely.

The Walled Garden Restaurant at Lucknam Park Hotel and Spa

Even when the SatNav tells you that you’ve arrived at the gate, take your time.

“The scene is set from the moment you turn into the driveway of the luxury Lucknam Park. A magnificent, mile-long lime- and beech-lined avenue stands like a guard of honour gently guiding guests to the graciously restored Palladian mansion set within 500 acres of glorious parkland…”

And even when a subtle signpost points you in the general direction of the car park, pause for thoughtful reflection and take in your surroundings before you turn left.

“Enveloped within its own classical gardens and paddocks, the relaxed elegance of the quintessential English mansion is perfect for unwinding and escaping from the pressure of life to find balance and reconnection; our 5-star country house hotel is your home away from home…”

Everything it says on the Lucknam Park website says reflects exactly what the Lucknam Park ‘experience’ is: undeniably, extraordinarily beautiful; handsome and historic, and as grown-up seductive as a Bendick’s Mint Fondant. And if you think there couldn’t possibly be yet more to swoon over here, think on: Lucknam Park is also home to superchef Hywel Jones’ eponymous Michelin-starred restaurant – an “innovative culinary experience” that, for most of us, can only be a very special occasion treat.

But in April of this year, Lucknam Park unveiled their brand new Walled Garden Restaurant on the site of the hotel’s former brasserie, set within the walls of the magical, uber-pretty LP estate itself. The new diner is, if you like, Restaurant Hywel Jones’ less formal little sister; while Beyoncé may opt for a full-on Jones Tasting Menu, you’d probably find Solange tucking into a pizza here. A pizza? At Lucknam Park? Yes indeed.

Chilling out in the Walled Garden is an easygoing, accessible experience, in terms of both the adaptable nibble/sharer/small/large plate menu selection and the price point, too – which is amazing, really, when you consider the 5-star environment, overall vibe and the fact that the menu reads like a red carpet who’s who on the British autumn catwalk: walnuts, game, pumpkin, mackerel, pear; brown shrimp and blackberries, wild mushrooms, plums and artichokes – not, you understand, altogether as one outfit, but writ large throughout the collection without foams, feuilletes or dust devils to distract us from the angels in the detail.

While it was just-about-still-warm-enough to linger long(ish) at our courtyard terrace table, we started our garden tour with a triplet of flavour-packed bites from the Nibbles section of the menu: creamy, kedgeree fishcakes, the inherent richness of the filling offset by just the right amount of lemon; neat, super-short horseradish scones topped with velvety pulled brisket in a spicy honey jus; smooth, smoky butter bean hummus with crispy kale and fresh, buttery flatbreads… a tantalising trio indeed.

Oh, we could have stayed put at our table for the whole evening, the scent of rosemary wafting around us on the breeze, the squirrels busily doing their busy thing in and around the verdant hedgerows. Squirrels, however, aren’t as pernickety about cold weather as we are. And anyway, the Walled Garden’s smart, calm, elegantly-lit dining room and bar – all clean-cut natural stone walls, polished wooden floors, lush fronds of foliage and floor-to-ceiling windows – subtly brings the outside in, with a distinct tinge of Scandi-cool adding a fresh, contemporary twist to Lucknam’s quintessential Elegant England theme, with views into the open kitchen beyond the pass further advocating convivial informality. Overall, there’s a smooth, welcoming confidence about the whole operation – and that confidence is not misplaced.

Settled at our table after the thrill of spotting Hywel himself working his magic in the kitchen on the night we visited (be still my beating heart!), our first starter of rich, subtly sweet beetroot cured salmon arrived as a succulent, glistening slab rather than a parsimonious sliver, with horseradish and whisky quickstepping an outstanding dish to stellar heights. Similarly, the Pumpkin / Goats’ Curd / Pear / Pecan put all and only the descriptive ingredients into the spotlight: maple-sweet pumpkin; fresh, tangy goats’ curd; soft pear just ripened to its honey-rich best; buttery-floral pecans – a loud’n’proud celebration of right here, right now, blink-and-you’ll-miss-’em autumn season superstars.

Next stop: venison that exuded a subtle aroma of roasted acorns, cut like butter and tasted like real red meat should really taste: uniquely rich, deeply umami, laden with earthy personality. A whole, fat, pearlescent plaice that slid off the bone at the very mention of the word ‘fork’, liberally scattered with robustly-flavoured brown shrimp that, had I closed my eyes, I would easily have mistaken for nuggets of lobster, with capers negating any need for further seasoning and bubble and squeak bringing playful familiarity to the plate. And on, and on, towards journey’s end: a Sundae dressed up to a Sundae’s best advantage, with apple, salted caramel, pecan and popcorn pushing all those ‘childhood memory’ buttons in the most delightful, grown-up way, and the smoothest ever chocolate mousse that I’ve ever met, partying on with soft, sweet pear and toasty malt ice cream.

By the time the moon rose high in the sky and the call of owls had taken over where the rustle of the busy squirrels set off, a love affair that began 20 years ago, when I was as new to this immaculate pastoral paradise as Hywel Jones was, had been revitalised, refreshed, rebooted.

In opening the doors to the Walled Garden, Lucknam Park has quietly, calmly, elegantly moved with the times. As a very wise man once said (Roman philosopher Caecilius Statius, to be precise) once said, “gardens are planted to benefit another generation”. Today, dinner (or lunch, or drinks, or just coffee) at the epicentre of gardens that were planted over 300 years ago is a thoroughly modern English heritage experience.

Ponte Vecchio, Spring Gardens Road, Bath

It’s Thursday evening and Ponte Vecchio – the elegantly flamboyant contemporary trattoria set in a singularly unique, stand-alone location right on Bath’s bubbling weir – is buzzing. I know this even before I’ve set foot in the restaurant because, as I approach the sparkling, fairy-lit cabin (a former storage hut for boats, would you believe), I can see people raising toasts to each other through the big upper level windows, and busy waiters dashing between tables bearing bottles of yet more cheer.

While I’m standing on the ancient cobbles to the front of the restaurant perusing the menu, a friendly American couple offer me their advice: “don’t even read the menu, just go in – it’s all wonderful!” he says; “we’ve been in Bath for almost three weeks now and eaten out every night, but this is the best meal we’ve had since we’ve been here!” she enthuses.

Watching the couple wander off hand-in-hand in the moonlight, the weir in full bubble behind them, I want what the American lady has clearly just had: a life-affirming, sensual reboot experience. It turns out I was set to get exactly what I wanted…

You want pretty? Ponte Vecchio does pretty. You want glam? Ponte Vecchio does glam. You want authentic, grown-up Italian food served up in a contemporary trattoria ambience? Tickety-tickety-tick, with a side order of Roman Holiday-esque escapism vibe thrown in for good measure and style, style, style infusing the whole, substance-infused experience from aperitivi to dolci.

An intimate courtyard paves the way to a street level bar that oozes confident glamour, while the upstairs dining room is a theatrically agreeable paean to refined élan, offering a dramatic view of one of Bath’s most famous vistas framed by huge windows and alfresco veranda seating that makes the very most of that view when the weather complies.

Menus waltz effortlessly around Italian classics with a handful of contemporary twists thrown in for good measure. An open kitchen towards the rear of the dining room offers eagle-eyed foodies the opportunity to watch each and every dish being rustled up to order and the wine list is an impeccably-curated Italian regional dream. The staff are as friendly and knowledgeable as you could possibly wish for, and a subtle celebratory vibe is writ large from the get-go; you may not think you want a Campari Spritz, or a Bellini, or a glass of fizz (in this instance, a Franciacorta, Brescia’s very own ‘champagne’) while you read the menu… but suddenly you do, and suddenly it would be ridiculous not to do.

And suddenly, I’m rather inelegantly starving.

For him, the Wild Boar Polpetta on the Specials menu were an instant grab that proved to be an instant hit: a classic, luxurious combination of juicy, gamey, subtly nutty meatballs resting on a classic, luxurious pomodoro sauce, the little ball of oozy cheese hidden inside each neat, meaty dome bringing further taste and texture.

For me, a far more complex combination that I couldn’t resist because (a) I can very rarely get past the words ‘smoked duck’ on a starter menu, (b) I had to know if pairing smoked duck with brandy-poached peaches, dried apricots, fresh berries, roasted hazelnuts and peach-infused mayonnaise (phew!) would result in a marriage made in heaven or a partnership created in hell, and (c)… I admire any restaurant that names a dish Duckordo, which I subtly Googled while sipping my fizz resulting in the lesser-spotted response of ‘it looks like there aren’t many great matches for your search’. But if I was out on a limb, I was in safe hands: fruit with duck? What’s not to like? And despite my reservations about the ensemble as a whole, the supporting cast list failed to detract from the silky, smoky game in the spotlight. Give it a go!

We followed a similar trusted classic vs “wow! How will that work out?” approach to our main courses too. That’s not to say, however, that his Porchetta (the second Special on the board on the evening we visited) lacked any “wow!” factor; to the contrary, PV’s Porchetta – slow-cooked, creamy, milky pork (I’m guessing belly?) rolled around a generous amount of aromatics (I detected sage, garlic, rosemary, fennel and a hint of chilli, perhaps?), crackling all present and correct – was a taste of Tuscany, on a plate in Bath.

As for my Tagliolini al Nero di Seppia: foodie drama alert! Squid ink pasta – depth-charge flavour, black-sheened gloss – muddled with an abundance of buttery Argentinian prawns, smooth, funky nduja and sweet, lively salsa rosa.

Both dishes were top notch examples of that aforementioned well-considered, authentic, grown-up Italian food, with full attention paid to every detail from conception to presentation. No corners are cut, no details are overlooked, no customers are taken for granted.

And to sweeten the bitter pill of home time on the horizon, here comes PV’s very own Cannolo Cheesecake, that unique, almost waffle-like, not-too-sweet deep fried pastry replacing the traditional cheesecake base, the topping rich and creamy with ricotta or mascarpone (or both?) – it was everything that the super-hip Biscoff cheesecake tries to be, but never quite manages to live up to.

Ponte Vecchio has a lot in common with that Cannolo Cheesecake: it’s everything that the recent influx of contenders to the title of Best Italian Restaurant in Bath try to be, but never quite manage to live up to. Ti vogliamo bene, Ponte Vecchio.

Green Park Brasserie/Bath Pizza Co: two (menu) worlds collide

Did you know that, if you put fresh spinach on a pizza base where you’d normally find tomato sauce, it brings a uniquely fresh, super-silky aspect to every bite? I had no idea! But the chefs in the kitchen at Bath Pizza Co know everything there is to know elevating pizza from prosaic to prodigious; little wonder, then, that their pizzas regularly scale the highest heights in the prestigious National Pizza Awards (the pizza-world equivalent of the Oscars), while many Bath pizza perfectionists rate them – against very stiff competition – as the best of the city’s pizza pack.

Up until very recently, the Bath Pizza Co played a vibrant supporting role in the heterogeneous life of its long-established big sister operation the Green Park Brasserie, popping up on the terrace towards the rear of the handsome former railway station site in 2016, the year before the Braz itself celebrated 25 years on the Bath food and drink scene. But part of the secret of GPB’s enduring popularity is that the venture as a whole never rests on its laurels, regularly moving with the times while still retaining all the original charms that made it so popular from the get-go – which is why, when I heard that GPB has undergone a rather transformative menu change, I felt a sense of optimistic excitement rather than any form of trepidation.

And so it came to pass that Bath Pizza Co and Green Park Brasserie menus have merged to become one and the same thing. Put ’em together and what have you got? A thoroughly tempting, tastefully dizzying array of plates in small or large format supplemented by, of course, those pizzas from the Margherita to the Marinara with specials, ‘make it your own’ and the white base variety (that I personally adore) grabbing our attention along the way.

There’s a lot to take in and a lot to consider, but the overall theme is consistent throughout: the harmonious selection is designed to put the diner in charge of how much they want to eat, spend and/or discover, in the ‘choose your mood’ environment that Green Park Brasserie established aeons ago.

Date night? There are plenty of cosy, candlelit tables-for-two within the contempo-historic former train station booking hall. Partying? Space is a flexible feast here – I recently had dinner at The Braz alongside a lively 21st birthday celebration and a gregarious brood of hens, and none of us impinged on the other. In the mood for a bit of live jazz/melodious funk/soul-soothing soul to make your dinner go with a swing? Book a table for any Wednesday-Saturday evening and the mellow grooves come as standard. And soon, you’ll be able to choose to chill out at GPB’s brand new ‘secret’ bar and kitchen (the aptly-named ‘Upstairs’) that offers a sophisticated speakeasy vibe and yet more of that mellow merrymaking appeal that the Braz excels at.

But on an end-of-summer night just before the leaves gave up their grasp on the trees altogether and there was still a hint of warmth on the soft breeze, we stayed put at the heated terrace table under the porte-cochere to the front of the building where we’d landed for pre-dinner cocktails (cocktails here, by the way, are a must that mustn’t be overlooked, especially during Happy Hour), amazed at how quickly the rush hour traffic gives way to a calm, unobtrusive trickle and enjoying the people-watching experience from our groovy little urban oasis.

We ate Cod Cheek “Scampi”: moist, chunky jewels of the freshest, fattest cod cheeks in perfectly crispy batter drizzled with a caper and lemon dressing and served with an exceedingly moreish tartare sauce; if you upgrade your portion from small (£9.50) to large plate (£14.50) and order a portion of fries to go with it, you’ll soon be waxing lyrical about how you’ve ‘discovered’ a whole new version of the best fish and chips in Bath. We had the small plate version of grilled chicken skewers too, all properly gnarly-chargrilled on the outside and super-soft within, accompanied by a masala-spicy/minty yoghurt, a sweet/tangy mango chutney and a mixed pepper salad. And oh, the Calamari! A starter/small plate tradition for me every time I visit the Braz that I’ve re-ordered multiple times for very good reason; ’nuff said?

I wanted to try the Hot Honey Buffalo Wings, while the roar of “come and get me” from both Garlic Bread corner (the Maple Leaf? The G.O.A.T? Bring ’em on!) and the Sexy Fries was almost unbearable. But the pizzas won the battle for our attention, which is how I know that fresh spinach on a white base (the Pizza Special on the evening we visited) creates a magnificent, magical melange. We went White for our second pizza too: the Truffle and Goats’ Cheese, which comes fully laden with roasted mushrooms, mozzarella and – the star of the show – an abundance of uniquely pungent white truffle oil which we supplemented with yet more intensely complex fungi fabulousness courtesy of a little pot of truffle-infused dip to smother our crusts in. See why I resisted the temptations of wings, fries and garlic bread too? Except my resistance wasn’t only based on a fear of over-indulgence; I simply wanted a good excuse to return.

But then again, nobody needs ‘a good excuse’ to return to the Green Park Brasserie. After 30+ years of flying the flag for the independent food and drink scene in Bath, this lively, welcoming, versatile business knows how to make – and keep – people happy in all the best possible ways, the new menu being just one (albeit vital) cog in a well-oiled wheel that always, always keeps the good times rolling.

The Richmond/The Pasta Laboratory, Bath

We went in search of a couple of freshly-baked pizzas and a bottle of good wine to celebrate… well, to celebrate it being a Friday’n’all. But The Richmond – the gorgeous little Georgian-era pub-with-rooms tucked away on a leafy residential street in one of the most beautiful neighbourhoods in Bath – went way over and above ticking off our wish list boxes; there’s a whole lotta all kinds of everything going on under this petite pub’s historic roof.

“Are you looking for a venue to hire for the day, perhaps with a pasta making or art class thrown in? Maybe you’re looking for a space for a private event? Or perhaps simply a gathering with friends and colleagues, to disconnect and unwind with some freshly prepared food and drinks from breakfast to lunch and/or dinner? Whatever, just ask us and we’ll do our best to make it happen…”

That’s what it says on The Richmond website, and all that and more is exactly what you’ll find in this glorious little haven of hospitality nestled in the leafy Lansdown hills. Ah, I think I know what you’re thinking, right now – but if I’m right, you’re wrong. The Richmond is most definitely not one of those vast, over-selling-itself ‘venues’ that try to offer all things to all people and end up offering so much that most people get lost along the way; to the contrary, it’s a compact and thoroughly bijou, properly characterful, proudly idiosyncratic affair, with an authentic independent heart at the core of its multifaceted appeal.

On the evening we visited The Richmond, the sun (remember that?) had come out to play too. So we took to a table in the neat little walled garden to the front of the pub for a pre-pizza G&T, the scent of Bougainvillea and Honeysuckle wafting in on the soft, warm air, the jangle and gossip from the various Friday evening get-togethers going on around us in full flow. It all felt exactly how a Friday evening in a neighbourhood pub should feel: chilled out and welcoming, with a strong “all’s right with the world” vibe.

Had the sun continued to roll with that vibe, we’d have chosen to have our pizzas right there in the garden. But inside turned out to be equally cheerfully seductive: a tiny little bar, a handful of chunky wooden tables – and, towards the rear of the pub, a beautiful kitchen/dining room flooded with natural light that bounced off a long, pale wooden bench/table set up for a forthcoming pasta making class: we’d segued into Pasta Laboratory HQ, where Richmond founder, co-owner and pasta-making expert Federico hosts workshops for up to 30 people in a room (with, by the way, its own little private alfresco courtyard) that also doubles-up as party/private hire central and a pop-up oasis for all manner of guest chefs including a forthcoming Brunch Club hosted by MasterChef Professionals finalist Kasae Fraser and her partner Vincent on Sunday 15 September.

On Thursdays and Saturdays, fully-laden charcuterie platters do the rounds at The Richmond with occasional pasta specials thrown in for good measure. Sundays, meanwhile, bring very civilised coffee, cannoli and pastries to the menu from 10.30am-5pm. But Friday is Pizza Night – and there’s Federico at the counter in front of his fired-up oven, ready to top our pizzas with our choice of Mediterranean vegetables and top-notch meaty stuff. Once again, here comes that chilled out, welcoming “all’s right with the world” vibe; it feels like a home-from-home, if only my home was this sparkling and beautifully-decorated and I too had a proper Italian chef on hand to cater to my every pizza-topping whim.

Our pizzas were perfect: one laden with roasted peppers and all that veggie jazz, the other topped with Italian charcuterie. Loads of oozy, melty cheese and fresh basil on both. Crisp bases, frangible crusts… and a wonderful bottle of Pinot Noir from a small but perfectly formed, accessibly priced wine list.

We were after a couple of freshly-baked pizzas and a bottle of good wine to celebrate it being a Friday; we ended up discovering one of the most joyful little sanctuaries of good cheer in Bath.

The Upton Inn, Upton Cheyney, nr. Bath/Bristol

Blink as you drive past the sign for the tiny village of Upton Cheyney – roughly halfway-ish between Bath and Bristol, just off the Kelston Road – and you’ll miss the turn-off. But miss it and you’ll seriously miss out, as Upton Cheyney has to be one of the most picture-perfect villages for miles around, all ancient cottages, imposing mansions and lush, verdant greenery. It looks like a backdrop for a Richard Curtis film, or the kind of place that might have inspired Beatrix Potter to anthropomorphise a herd of sheep. But Upton Cheyney is a real, working village – and there’s a very real, working pub at the heart of village life too.

Established in the early 18th century, The Upton Inn has offered a warm welcome and hearty sustenance to all who venture off the well-beaten Kelston Road track for 314 years. Over the past few years, though, the warmth went out of that welcome, the heart went out of that food… and the pub closed for good in 2023. For a little while, it looked as though The Upton may well fall foul to down-and-out status, ripe for redevelopment by a builder with contacts in the ‘second home outside of London’ crowd or a canny Airbnb operator with a keen eye on sedate hen parties.

But last year, a knight in shining armour stepped into the breach and saved Upton Cheyney from turning into a country pub-free zone. Julian Abraham – an affable entrepreneur/landlord with an impressive track record in the hospitality industry both around these yer parts and beyond – saw the potential in The Upton version 2.0, and placed it centre stage in what he calls “a dynamic period of rebirth.”

Despite the refurbished, revamped Upton only opening its doors under Julian’s aegis in March of this year, this historic listed building is already worthy of a listing on all manner of “Best Pub For…” lists, easily topping those charts for location, ambience and that all-important food without any hint of ostentation, and laden with heart, soul and warmth.

While the layout could hardly be described as sprawling (to the contrary, it feels relatively compact), The Upton Inn offers a choice of three alfresco terraces to chillax on when the sun shines. Inside, there are multiple spaces to inhabit according to mood or occasion including a snug to cosy-up in, a couple of bars to prop up, a characterful, candlelit parlour/dining room and a seductively stylish private dining area due to be officially unveiled any day now, resulting in the perfect pastoral paradise for all-comers (including those all-important four-legged canine friends).

Menus too rock to a contemporary country pub beat: proper burgers, fish and chips, Brit-trad dishes with the odd Medi-themed tickle and – of course – real roasts on a Sunday, supplemented by regular Pie Nights; hoorah!

But there’s a foodie angel rather than a day-to-day pub grub devil in the detail at play here: the fish that comes with the chips is tempura-battered hake; the burger is made with chargrilled beef brisket – and, when we order our starters, I’m met with the kind of response that people like me (as in, obsessively foodie, and always in search of kitchens-that-really-care) dream of hearing: “Yes, go ahead and have the asparagus with Parma ham – but it isn’t served with ricotta, like it says on the menu; you can be the very first people to try our own homemade cheese – we made it for the first time today.”

And gosh, The Upton kitchen needs to make that cheese on a very regular basis: think, a Delice de Bourgogne on its very best day or a less overwhelmingly creamy version of Camembert, complemented by silky, top-notch Parma ham and delicately grassy Wye Valley asparagus. Our second starter bought silky roast chicken and earthy black pudding together in perfect terrine harmony, robust but elegant and tasting of nothing but real ingredients, treated well – a theme that our main courses further endorsed.

If dressed Brixham crab is on the menu when you visit The Upton, go for it: lashings of super-fresh crab – sweet, fluffy white meat; rich, almost pate-ish brown meat – carefully picked and neatly packed back into the scrubbed-up shell, served with a tumble of creamy, nutty Ratte potato salad and a pile of well-dressed rocket. But then again, if you fancy a steak-out, stick to your guns: He opted for the intensely flavoursome, super-juicy rib eye, which came accompanied by a properly peppery peppercorn sauce, a juicy portobello mushroom, the kind of onion rings that nobody should be allowed to keep to themselves (that’s my excuse, anyway) and luxurious truffle and parmesan fries that put a sophisticated spin on a classic steak dinner.

It was all so good, and so satisfying, and so well-balanced that we decided to skip pud despite the alluring prospect of Warm Pecan Tart and Dark Chocolate Mousse loudly making their presence felt on the menu. But then, our server said that the Lemon Posset that he’d made himself that day (oh, this kitchen is seducing me as fast as that crab did!) was on the menu. So we went there, ‘cos it would have been rude not too (that’s my excuse, anyway) and thank goodness we did… y’get my drift?

The Upton Inn is, quite simply, lovely – and, being only a 20-minute drive/affordable Uber ride from Bath, there’s no good reason why it shouldn’t be your new favourite local: a magical, welcoming escape to the country, right on our doorstep.