Telephone: 01544 388161
Address: Luntley, nr Leominster, Herefordshire
Rating: 14.5/20
Bucolic, that's how I'd describe the Cider House. There, through the windows of the old Dutch barn, were brown and white Hereford cattle, udder-deep in grass molten with buttercups and studded with daisies. The ample curve of the land was trimmed and tucked by hedgerows. The barn itself was the cornerstone of a forgotten England: broad hammer beams soaring overhead and running like seams through the plaster of the walls, with more wood underfoot and solid sensible tables with solid, sensible chairs set on it. Which was just as well, because some of them were filled with solid, sensible people in the form of Roger Protz, Ivor Dunkerton and myself. To be absolutely accurate, they were sensible and I was solid.
The Cider House is the home of Dunkerton's cider, founders Ivor and Susie Dunkerton. He used to be the grand panjandrum of Today, the news programme on BBC1, which many people of a certain generation will remember with pleasure. Anyway, his reign as an illustrious BBC producer shrivels beside his eminence as a cider and perry maker. I don't normally sit down to lunch with the proprietor when I am engaged in professional duties, but Roger had sung the praises of the place in such plangent tones that I thought I'd tag along.
The first thing I noticed from the menu is that many of the ingredients come from the buttercup-rich countryside just outside. Those cattle put in an appearance in a beef and chive cottage pie. There was organic Sandy White pork chop with minted cider jelly and apple brandy glaze; and Quarry Farm lamb with thyme and mustard crust and sherry vinegar sauce. I would have happily eaten any of these, but none was of interest to Roger, who is vegetarian. He was well catered for, though, with three first courses to choose from and a white bean, spring cabbage and citrus casserole among four mains. Afterwards, I queried him about that last dish, because it sounded so odd and also looked vapidly pallid. Not a bit, he said. It was utterly delicious. The cabbage was crunchy, the beans mulchy, and the citrus element gave a brisk lift to the earthy flavours of the veg. I put this down not only to the shrewdness of the chef - Mrs Dunkerton, as it happens - but also to the fact that she is as assiduous at sourcing her primary ingredients as her husband is at sourcing organic apples and pears.
Before the casserole, Roger had a warm salad of grapes and cucumber with an orange and rosemary sorbet, which shows that there's an original, not to say quirky, taste at work in the kitchen. Quirky it may be, but it has a natural respect for the integrity of the parts and for producing well-defined, interesting flavours. The salad was refreshing and fulfilling. I would say the same of my fennel and perry soup with caramelised Anjou pear. The soup was delicate and refreshing, thick with diced fennel, the porcelain, dry fruitiness helping to articulate the elusive aniseed. The pork chop was altogether more robust. It had a splendid layer of fat, so was properly lubricated while being cooked, and the various condiments and glazes sang in close harmony.
None of this was sophisticated cooking. Indeed, it was about as far from Gordon Ramsay and Giorgio Locatelli as it is possible to imagine. But one of the joys of eating out is that you can have as much pleasure and satisfaction in somewhere like the Cider House as in some garlanded temple of gastronomy. The excellence lies in the pedigree of the ingredients, and in the honesty and character of the cooking.
The final pleasure and satisfaction took the form of rhubarb and ginger frangipane tartlet and cream for me, and cider brandy parfait and tuile biscuits for Roger. I would have loved more of the rhubarb, because I am a devotee and also because the tartlet was rather larger than the compote.
We drank Dunkerton's ciders and perry throughout, but I will leave it to the infinitely more expert Mr Protz to put them in context. I will say that I'd be happy to be there still, drinking them. However, it was back on the road for me, after paying a bill of £58 for the three of us. You may think it a bit of a cheek for Mr Dunkerton to have included his own food, but I will have none of that. It left me free to say exactly what I thought of the food. Which I have.
· Open Mon-Sat, 9am-5pm. Wheelchair access & WC.
