The Three Horseshoes
Earlier this week, having been for lunch at The Three Horseshoes in Batcombe, I sat down and wrote a review.
One which went on a journey from my leaving London 6 years ago and how I still miss regular meals at the Rochelle Canteen greatly.
A few years back I said this of the Rochelle …
“…from behind a door, with a button to one side, and across a garden it has fed London’s creative family and me since, well it seems forever.
“At white tables, sat on simple sculptural chairs and using elegant cutlery, ideas were discussed and talents discovered”.
You get the drift.
Then a rough guess of how often, over the last 10 years I had used Margot Henderson’s cookbook “You Are All Invited”.
Later a suggestion that Margot and husband Fergus’ cooking has often reminded me of home and been the backdrop to many significant moment’s in my life.
Why I worry if I walk through Bruton, Frome and Bath and do not see someone I know from London, given that the UK creative community is often to be found here in the South West and how lucky we are.
The importance of ‘The Pub’ as a British concept, how we must protect, cherish and support the great ones.
The beauty of the countryside, the Land Rover’d journey from my house to Batcombe often taken with my old man, who likes to see that big church, visit the cheese shop and then makes me take the back, back road towards Bruton. How we have stopped several times, peered through window and discussed the pub, it’s location and how it would be great to see it open again.
1500 words or so, couple of poetic phrases, some emotional and (perhaps) elegant moments, all of which lead to one thing.
Go.
It is religious.
Genuinely brilliant and for someone with an opinion or 5, I am struggling to suggest what I would change.
As walked in, stood by the bar were 6 local, likely lads, who stopped and said hello.
My notes remind me that the bar is light, airy, but right for the building, it has an air of John Pawson meets downstairs and upstairs in Connolly.
You can stop and perch on a stool, have some snacks, sup a pint and head home happy - as I suspect often in future with dog at feet, I shall - or as I’d booked about 5 minutes after the website launched, head through a tight corridor/arch, beneath mind your head grosgrain, past the open sided, wood burner filled fireplace and sit with your Guinness at a table sat on flagstones.
The food is wonderful, I mean truly wonderful, everything you would expect. You’ll notice I’ve left out photos of the food, I want you to go and to take it in. Go with a crowd, eat across the menu, discuss greatest hits of cods roe, brandade et al, then silence as you carve and swiftly devour the rabbit pie, using chips to mop up sauce, before testing the pain/pleasure relationship via horseradish with perfect cold sirloin.
This little corner of the country, sees magic from Osip, Holm, Beckford Canteen and frankly at least another 15 and now the Three Horseshoes, they show me, how things ought to be, how they could be, how they are, here.
Modern and progressive, elegant and without faff, simple because that’s often best, places which let the produce sing, and are of the moment but with love for what’s always actually worked.
As you leave, head out via the garden, a wink and hint of a please come soon long hot summer, Hotel Daniel now open for season, filled with afternoons where we’ll be sat hopefully here like we used to at the Rochelle, making plans, perhaps to change the world, perhaps to make some more plans here soon.
