112. Back To The Woodsman.

  After several months away Lucy The Labrador and I were back in Stratford. The poor old Shakespeare Hotel seemed a little forlorn with the necessary changes wrought by that wretched virus. But there were plenty of visitors in Stratford in both the daytime and the evening and the town was overflowing with visitors - well it is summer and they can’t go to Spain - and hardly anyone seemed to acknowledge that there was a pandemic on from their general inability to recognise what exactly is meant by social distancing. Most forlorn of all is the closed theatre. There’s a poster outside The Other Place for The Winters Tale which was due to open a few days after the prime minister shut down the country. It’s sad to see but perhaps those right-on producers and managers at the RSC can use the time and sit down and take a good hard look at how they’ve bowdlerised Shakespeare in the last two or three years and descended into the depths of sanctimonious self-indulgence just like the chef who produces a devastatingly expensive Tasting menu using the cheapest and vaguely most unpleasant cuts of meat with the excuse that he/she wishes to introduce the diner to something new and “respecting” the poor dead animal by using the “whole of it” in their dishes (and coincidently maximising their profits).

  And so to some enjoyable food. Dinner at The Woodsman in the rather beautiful Hotel Indigo known to Stratford lags for centuries as The Falcon. 

  There was some lovely brioche made finer by the perfect use of salt and with the pleasant accompanying butter. No description of the bread was given which was a pity as it deserved an introduction as did my very fine starter of exquisite treacle cured sea trout served with a pleasingly crabby-flavoured crab mayonnaise and a less exciting avocado purée and a subtley flavoured fennel salad which gave the right amount of texture. Unfortunately my starter arrived seconds after my bread and I had almost finished my sea trout when my aperitif of Chase Pomodoro and pink grapefruit gin and tonic arrived. Pity. The gin went perfectly with the starter but there was too little of the dish left to get the full pleasure of the match. Still, I was feeling comfortable and relaxed and well socially distanced and so I found it really rather difficult to feel aggrieved in any way and the starter was lovely.

  But the best was yet to come. I had a fabulous main course of beautifully cooked Brixham plaice on the bone which was a joy in itself but it came along with a gorgeous beurre noisette which was a form of nectar in which the fish could bask. It was served simply with 6 triumphant mussels, tender and, like the fish, masterfully seasoned and spinach and crispy little capers. A truly great dish. See picture at the head of this piece.

Chase Pomodoro and Pink Grapefruit gin was late to the party.

  After these 2 magnificent dishes the dessert was something of a letdown with some of the ingredients vaguely discordant. I ate it all but it was a little deflating following on from what had come before. For the record I had the peach melba cheesecake with pistachio ice cream which I did not think was a marriage made in heaven.

The Woodsman serves up some fabulous fayre. I wish front of house, who give a polite, friendly and welcoming service, would give short introductions to each course and that the delivery of courses was more satisfactorily spaced but the food is generally memorable for all the right reasons.