cornish delight

The Greenhouse, St. Keverne, Cornwall
www.tgor.co.uk

So small it was almost like a front room turned restaurant, and run by just two rather dedicated people, I loved The Greenhouse from first bite of chewy new bread to the last spoon of pud. The alpha and omega of dining.

The menu was full of seafood and local produce. I know 'seasonal' and 'local' food is the big fat middle-class cliche of our time, but here it was sincere and so easily the best bet - given the plethora of farms in the area, and the sea pretty much acting as doorstep.

One of the multi-tasking two runs bread-making classes, my local hosts reliably informed me. I jested (not) that I would judge the place by their bread - and frankly, it exceeded expectation. I don't know how to describe it without the words 'fresh + chewy + crusty + holey' so I will leave it at that. For the rest, I'm going to give you a medley of what I remember from round the table: I didn't eat four meals.

There were battered sprats 'like giant whitebait' with an aioli, pigeon breasts with crispy fried black pudding, mussels, and a generous scoop of ducks pate on toast. We shared with each other liberally, tasting everything.

The next course was a shore of seafood. Crab with mayonnaise and chips rendered the gent unusually silent, except for the click of shell against plate and a murmur of 'claws are the best bit'. Fish (fried brill?) decorated with more mussels, and a Goan fish curry - at the top end of spicy - pleased Mr and Mrs Host; I had a most delicate, soft baked megrim sole with crab sauce, and just a few buttered potatoes alongside. My lack of notebook shows: I can't recall the names of anything properly, how vexing. I hope the gent can at least recall what we drank, as it was terrific, and two bottles made their way to our table.

The only criticism suggested at our table, was that the starters were perhaps too large: four sprats, for instance, would have been a more perfect size for the appetite whetting morsel a first course should be. Six were more of a meal. Nonetheless, after this barrage of delights, we bravely pushed forward to a pudding course, crossing spoons to share this time. I believe a banana vacherin (?) was polished off with delight on the other side of the table: I was too busy with my face in a treacle tart with Roskilly's clotted cream to take much notice. Dark with treacle, not just golden syrup, this was as amazing as it sounds.

It was a beautiful evening. Locals obviously loved it - as did a certain television celebrity - and I hope it continues to be successful. I couldn't help but notice that this week there is a wild rabbit and mushroom terrine on the menu...