[singlepic id=336 w=280 h=210 float=right]Why do so many restaurants and cafes insist on putting cappuccino on their menu then serving up a huge cup of hot milk with a mouse’s bladder of coffee squirted into it and a spoonful of phlegm on top? Is it the misguided belief that bigger is always better? Is there a quiet majority of British punters that I’m entirely unaware of who actually like this? If anyone can inform me, please hit the Comments section. I know this isn’t just my own preference. I can quite easily imagine the reaction of any Italian presented with such a concoction: the initial look, mingling curiosity and surprise; the sip, followed by a very Mediterranean grimace; the shaking head and gale of disbelieving laughter.
Of course, the real villains are me and you, the consumer. Until we laugh at horrible coffee and refuse to pay for it, restaurants won’t improve. What would you do if you ordered “scallops with chorizo and cauliflower puree” and received a huge bowl of cauliflower puree with one tiny anaemic scallop perched on top and no discernible chorizo?
The Lion at Leintwardine, alas, is certainly a member of the crappuccino club. I’d love to say that the meal was by contrast faultless, but I can’t. It was decent enough. Let’s have a look…
[singlepic id=337 w=280 h=210 float=left]For starter I chose chicken liver parfait, for two reasons: it was twinned with an intriguing “baby onion parfait” and boasted smoked brioche accompaniment. Well, the brioche was a bit dry and didn’t present any smoky flavour. And of course the menu was at fault; the onions were in the form of a sticky chutney, not a parfait at all. Boooo! In the event I didn’t complain, as the onions were delicious. The parfait was okay, but not as smooth or firmly textured as I’d like. Maureen’s tartare of smoked salmon lacked balance; the plentiful capers might have been fine with a salmon tartare, but with the already salty and smoked salmon they were overkill. The yogurt mousse and pickled apple accompaniments were a delicious hint of what the dish could have been.
My main of Gressingham duck arrived overcooked, but there was no problem sending it back and it appeared with a new piece of nicely pink duck in less than five minutes. Dauphinoise were pretty good, a fine gravy, but the confit garlic were quite harsh. Somehow I think including them in the cooking rather than scattered on as garnish [singlepic id=338 w=280 h=210 float=right]might have worked better. Maureen’s seared tuna was not. It was cooked tuna. To be generous, it was still moist enough to be palatable but a disappointment nevertheless. The warm salad of new potato, peas, sun-blushed tomatoes and soft-boiled quails eggs worked well enough for a gentle dish.
Pudding. Apparently often the saving grace of a meal. Both nicely presented. My summer pudding was fine, though a bit heavy on the gooey bread. Maureen’s chocolate tart was fine, though a bit heavy on the pastry. I think the puds sum up the meal fairly well: it was all okay.
If you were staying at the hotel here you’d probably be happy enough with having this dining room downstairs. It’s a handsomely furnished small country hotel and the service was friendly and useful from everyone. And the food was okay. But at £45 each including a bottle of wine I’d say you should be able to find better.
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what a bunch of pretentious middle class assholes you are. vile.
Author
We’re only a pair, not a bunch.
I’m not afraid to admit that this blog’s audience is meant to be people who appreciate and seek out fine food. “Foodies” if you like. So I’m going to write in a way that like-minded people will understand and, in places, find funny. Some of which other people will find unfunny and perhaps even repulsive. Sorry about that.
In the same way I might find your views on other subjects unfunny and repulsive if you chose to write them down. We’re all different and I’m happy to acknowledge that. If I tried to write a blog that would appeal to everyone and offend no-one my writing would be bland. Can you find me an author or a comedian or a musician that everyone loves?
But if I stumbled on some writing on the internet that I disagreed with strongly enough to comment on, I would offer some reasons for my disagreement and I wouldn’t resort to insults.
Read your review after booking a weekend break( this weekend) inc dinner.To be honest I was a bit wary after reading your review but Im delighted to say our experience was nothing likethe one you described.Our meals on both nights were superb,faultless and I suggest you revisit the Lion with an open mind and give them the credit they deserve instead of the droning negativity of your previous review.
Author
I’m genuinely glad you had a great meal, and that your comment is here to add context for anyone reading my blog. However, a food critic has to review their own experience. I know what I’m talking about, and my article reflects what I was served on the night. There could be a hundred reasons: perhaps an inexperienced member of staff made the coffee, perhaps there was a stand-in chef in the kitchen. But as I cannot know these things, I cannot comment on them and if any restaurant can’t consistently produce good food every time then they risk a reviewer catching them “on a bad night”. C’est la vie. If you’ve ever had a bad meal at a place that was supposed to be good, you can appreciate how important consistency is!
As I say, it’s useful to have your comment here as additional information for readers. And if I do happen to visit the Lion again, and enjoy a different meal, I’ll be sure to update.
And as an aside, I’ve re-read and I personally think my review was balanced; by no means “droning negativity”. : )