Shropshire Magazine

Shirley Tart and friends enjoy a sumptuous meal at the newest of Ludlow’s gourmet restaurants

Diver scallops with cauliflower, raisins and sherry

If a new hotel restaurant opens in a town famed for the best in award-winning cuisine, and is charging prices to match, clients will expect something special – even on only its second evening open.

Fishmore Hall, a Georgian country house hotel on the edge of Ludlow came very close, and if an evening out is measured by its general feelgood factor, our trip would be well up the scale.

We had relatives staying from South Africa and chose the new venue for a gentle drive down through the Corvedale for dinner.

It was a Monday evening; Fishmore Hall had opened on the previous Saturday, and word of mouth – still the best persuasion – had yet to spread. So our table was joined that evening by just one party of six. However, what we in the modern dining room of what was once a school – and until recently in total disrepair – might have lacked in fellow diners, was well compensated by the warm welcome, menu and service.

On arrival, we were invited rather than fussily ushered into what could have been someone’s minimalist drawing room, with clean lines and nothing in the way of pictures or paintings and sofas you cuddle into. The evening started well, when breathtakingly well informed restaurant manager James Cockcroft not only instantly recognised but also correctly located the South African accent of half our party as being Johannesburg or Durban. Both, actually!

The plush interior of Fishmore Hall restaurant

Guessing (again spot on) that John would know a bit about wines, he confidently recommended that the three going for a dry white should start the evening with an Argentinian Torrontes. While not wanting to be altruistic, having glanced at the globally comprehensive list and noted seriously pricey wines and Champagnes, I did wonder where James’s choice might be levelled. At £18.95 a bottle it was actually one of the least expensive, and for palates well accustomed to decent vino more than acceptable – indeed a second bottle was a must.

The response to my challenge for something non-alcoholic but a little bit different was: “How about a glass of Saudi Champagne?” Allowing for the poetic licence, I was intrigued enough to say yes. James returned with an elegant burnished flute and its delicious, pre-dinner contents: an apple juice base – generally a bit sweet for me – with angostura bitters and soda water. What an effort with the drinks, though. Well done James so far. And so to the food.

Through the comfortable sofa lounging, wine, chat and nibbles (including quails’ eggs, olives and crispy cheese straws), we were also making serious decisions. Menus that evening were three courses at £46 a head or the interesting Taste of the Marches, which takes seven courses to the table at £55 each. We were in unison that three extra courses were probably three too many that night – despite a Taste of the Marches promise of braised pig’s cheek and rare-breed beef with sautéed snails! So it was à la carte for all of us.

After much deliberating over first-course orders, tiny appetiser glasses of a surprise artichoke velouté with truffle oil came our way, and the basket of warm breads must have come directly from the oven. No question of waving those away!

John was intrigued enough by the tronchon of foie gras with pain d’épice, kumquat and Grand Marnier compôte, to give it a whirl.

Having recently travelled down to us from Scotland on their UK trip, Marina was inspired by Isle of Skye langoustines with smoked belly pork, celeriac mousse and shellfish cappuccino, while Sally thought confit salmon with tomato and anchovy dressing, braised fennel and olive tapenade fitted the bill.

After enquiring why they are called diver scallops – because they are hand-caught by a diver if you didn’t know – I went for this seafood favourite. Superb, though its cauliflower florets, raisins and sherry were a tad superfluous. The other girls were well pleased with the variety of tastes, and the foie gras was duly applauded.

As were white linen cloths and napkins, interesting modern glassware and plain white china. A single aubergine-shaded arum lily in the centre of the table was all the extra colour needed, its slender lines not obscuring the opposite side of the table. The scene is set, and so to mains.

Fishmore Hall illuminated at night

Sally decided to try the loin of venison with marjoram gnocchi, butternut squash, red cabbage, blackberries and liquorice which sounded an alarming range of accompaniments but like everything else, they were just a taste and so exquisitely presented that it all largely worked.

As a visitor, her brother ordered chump of Marches lamb with chervil tuber purée, lamb cassoulet, caramelised sweetbread, capers and mint. To coin a phrase, all these dishes are a mouthful to write about, but on the whole, a pleasure to sample.

Sally chose medium-rare for the venison despite a ‘rare’ recommendation and John, testing our restaurant manager again, said he would like his lamb pink but not running blood. “Right,” said James, “then I think we’ll go for somewhere between rare and medium.” The meat in both dishes was spot on.

When you think that James had appeared from Yorkshire only three weeks before – at 31 he’s in a bewilderingly fast career – and inspired chef Mark Hardiman is 24 and looks engagingly younger, the Fishmore Hall production is top rate.

Marina and I rightly thought line-caught sea bass with thyme cream potatoes, sweet-and-sour onions and hazlenut foam could be to our taste. If there is a note of criticism, it is the over-flourishing of menu descriptions – some sound way out enough to deter a trial, and that would be a shame.

Puddings included hot chocolate fondant with basil ice-cream and lemon curd beignet. It takes 20 minutes to prepare, so we lingered over a palette-refreshing taste of basil panacotta with berries. John went for the amazing board of artisan cheeses with fig-and-almond cake, quince jelly, homemade biscuits and warm fruit-and-nut bread.

The other puds chosen were saffron-poached pear with caramel crème brulée and rosewater sorbet and – wait for it – a parsnip parfait with honey-and-cardamon cream and chocolate biscotti. Was I mad . . . a parsnip pudding? It was brilliant. Think about it – parsnips are an especially sweet vegetable; so credit to chef Mark for such a super pud – I recommended it to the next table. There was a gentle hum of satisfaction from our lot by now.

Rum roast banana with coffee jelly and pistacho ice cream

Coffee for everyone else, one of James’s 26 varieties of fruit tea for me, with a delectable plate of petits fours which should have been impossible to even consider. But while each dish was savoured, none left us feeling overfaced or horribly full.

My request for a set of menus was met instantly – including Christmas party dinners at £30 a head and the bar-and-terrace menu which we’ve marked down for a return visit.

John had casually commented on the good background music and as we left, James presented him with a print-out of every piece played that evening. That’s service.

Unless I’m mistaken, Fishmore Hall is on a roll.