As I mentioned in the last post, we'd taken the caravan to
the Staffordshire town of Leek to meet up with an old friend who was about to
relocate to the islands of Scotland. Such a farewell needs to be marked with
fine food and finer wine, and our friend, who happened to be the
proprietress of the finest independent wine shop in Staffordshire* knew just the place to go.
The Peak Weavers is a bed and breakfast cum restaurant
establishment that has established a pretty impressive reputation for itself
since the current owners, Nick and Emma took it over in 1999. Housed in a
building that was constructed in 1828 for a local mill owner, the Peak wavers -
named for its Peak District location and weaving heritage - now houses a forty
cover restaurant and six bedrooms. Clearly we've never stayed there, but if you
happen to be travelling sans-caravan, I'd recommend this place just on the
strength of the food. Seriously, when an establishment produces food to this
standard you can trust everything else.
Because the food was seriously
good.
We were a little early for our table, so we took a seat in the small bar area (I suspect it was originally the mill owner's parlour or something) and chatted over drinks perusing the menu. It's a cosy and welcoming space, and although it is a little snug you don't get any kind of sense of being on top of other guests. The host was attentive but not intrusive and the atmosphere pleasingly convivial. At a suitable lull in conversation we were escorted into the immaculate dining room and seated at our table.
There was some discussion about wine, which I took more
notice of than usual, because this was one of the rare occasions when I wasn't driving. I didn't choose though,
because however much I know about wine** our friend knows an awful lot more.
I'm rather ashamed to note therefore that I have no idea what we drank, except to say that it was delicious. (Mental
note to self - if you're drinking when you're eating at a restaurant you're
going to review, make notes!) Suffice to say I was impressed. The food though, oh my. The food just
knocked me out of the park.
I started with a crispy duck salad with a dressing of ginger and soy. What can I say? The duck was perfectly cooked and the dressing was beyond fabulous, just coating the leaves and duck pieces enough to add flavour but not so much that the duck itself was over powered - and so perfectly seasoned even I didn't reach for the salt. That's a rare thing for me, and probably my ultimate compliment to a chef who gets the seasoning right first time.
Mrs Snail and our friend started with a hot smoked salmon
and prawn cocktail with a "green goddess" sauce - except Mrs Snail's
was an all salmon affair because if she eats prawns she turns blue and dies. These
came served in the traditional cone shaped cocktail glass and were declared to
be delicious. I was fascinated by the green goddess sauce, which I'd never
heard of, but seems to be a sort of flavoured mayo type thing with parsley,
anchovies, lemon and other good things. Such a refreshing change from the
standard gloopily pink Marie Rose sauce you usually get smothering this sort of
thing.
That's one of the things I liked about the Peak Weavers -
everything was done with a bit of imagination and flair.
Our main courses were equally impressive. I went for a
rib-eye steak, because I'm a man and I like meat cooked on fires, and I was not
disappointed in any way. The meat was perfectly cooked - possibly the first
time I've been served a medium steak the way I like it, normally chef's seem to
interpret "medium" either as "the customer knows nothing, they
will have their meat the way I know they should have it" or "the
customer is clearly squeamish, I must cook away all traces of pink". Not
here. My steak was pink, juicy and gorgeous.
The steak came with some wonderful chips and roasted
vegetables. I was in something approaching heaven. Mrs Snail opted for a ham
hock salad style thing which was packed with flavour and our friend went for a
lamb dish which looked and smelled astounding. Our friend pronounced it to be
"amazing", and I have no cause to doubt her judgement.
Finally, there was dessert.
Dessert can be summed up in one word.
Wow.
However, that's not the sort of finely judged commentary
you've come to expect from this blog, so I guess I should expand on that a
little.
Our friend declined dessert, which frankly makes me doubt
her sanity just a little, but having taken another squint at the menu me and
Mrs Snail were completely unable to resist. I went for a Pavlova which arrived
smothered in cream, strawberries and blueberries. All jolly lovely, of course,
but the best bit by far was the meringue.
This spectacular confection was beyond mere sweetness - somehow managing to be much, much sweeter than sugar. Crisp and brittle on the outside, soft and chewey - but not gooey - on the inside. Honestly, I could have eaten it all
night.
And yet, I hadn't chosen the most impressive thing. No, Mrs
Snail did that when she selected the Passion Fruit Parfait. Now,
"parfait" may well be the French word for "perfect", but
I've never really been much of a fan. This though, this really lived up to its
name. Beautifully presented and perfectly judged in terms of flavour, my only
criticism of this dish was that it was only designed to serve one, so I was
only able to steal a tiny spoonful. That spoonful did contain two or three of
the little peach coloured balls that were adorning the top of the parfait, and they were a revelation.
I think they're best described as slightly oversized orangey caviar, and they behaved much like caviar in the mouth - popping on the tongue and releasing an ooze of flavour directly onto the taste buds. Fortunately this is where the similarities to caviar ended, because caviar is disgusting and tastes of overpoweringly salty fish***. This however was wonderful, and tasted of Passion Fruit. It was the final little bit of flair that lifted the dish from mere greatness to an entirely different level of awesomeness. Parfait indeed.
And that is what
the Peak Weavers seems to be all about. They source their meat locally and
adjust the menu to what is seasonally available. Essentially they take fine
ingredients and then apply a bit of skill and imagination to make good things
even better. Seriously, what more could you wish from a restaurant? This isn't
the kind of blog that awards stars, but if it was, I'd need a bloody galaxy to
adequately reward this place - even if co-owner Nick did spend some time
dissing caravans while we took coffee in the lounge...****
*The Wine Shop, Leek
**Which is rather a lot, actually...
***This is objectively true. I've eaten the finest caviar on
earth. It was disgusting and left a taste in my mouth I couldn't get rid of for
days.
****More of that
in a future blog. All I'm saying is "challenge accepted"...
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