Latest news with #RowleyLeigh
Telegraph
23-07-2025
- Entertainment
- Telegraph
‘The chocolate mousse was just how mummy used to make it': William Sitwell reviews Updown, Deal
Updown farmhouse, nestling in woods of the flatlands and low horizons of Kent, is a sparkling and quite beautiful gem. The buildings and setting are attractive: there's the 17th-century red-brick main house and various outbuildings, and pretty gardens which are tended with a light touch. They're a bit liberal with their grass (my mindset being more Right-wing mower), but the conversion of old sheds into restaurant and kitchen has been done tenderly, unobtrusive. And there are bedrooms so you can get stuck into dinner and stay over. Which I implore you to do. Because that way you'll fully understand why Updown is such a magical creation, why this countryside restaurant-with-rooms puts so many other such offerings in the shade. It's the work of Ruth Leigh and her husband Oli Brown and, believe me, they will go down in history as one of the great marital duos of British restaurants. Their temperament, style and hospitality comes across in every tiny detail, from fork to light fitting. And so, perhaps, it should. Brown has a solid cooking CV, which includes a swerve into Cantonese barbecue when he ran a place in London called Duck Duck Goose (they say once you've dabbled in siu mei you're hooked for life), and Leigh may owe some of her talent to her father, the chef and restaurateur Rowley Leigh. One of the UK's most influential culinary figures, he did actually provide schooling for the pair: Ruth waited tables at Rowley's Café Anglais in Bayswater, where Brown was once head chef. Brown is a man you can trust at the stove. The lunch he cooked on my visit was magnificent, proof that lovely stuff happens when a chef who has a handle on Italian technique bags fabulous local produce. You might see Brown in the kitchen, if you can spot him through the vines. They dangle from the ceiling in the restaurant – a room that with its chequered floor, bare brick walls and exposed timber frames looks like a construction site in progress, but delivers great charm. My old pal Anna and I sipped a good vermentino from the modest wine list (offering good-value as well as stupid-money options if you're so inclined) and shared anchovy toasts: a pair of anchovies on soldiers nestling beneath a strip of lardo, an impeccable inspection parade of crunchy toast, salty fish and sweet fat. Then came a pizzetta which was a cute mess of melting taleggio cheese with girolle mushrooms and sprigs of rosemary: a blissful collision of Italy and England. Likewise the roast chump of lamb I had for my main course (tender, pink and earthy), which came with broad beans, peas and asparagus in what looked like a rustic pond – a broth of bagna cauda, the Piedmontese concoction of garlic, anchovy and red wine, three of the greatest life-enhancing ingredients in union. Anna had a fine pork chop, with large scratchings, eased on the path of pleasure with more of those girolles and some wild garlic. There was fresh crunch from a lettuce salad and sweetness from pink fir-apple potatoes, and then pud. Sure, the lemon tart showed fab pastry skills but that chocolate mousse – ah! Rich, soft and uncomplicated, like Mummy used to make it. The lesson of the mousse as with everything at Updown – don't mess with greatness, instead understand how you can simply make it greater.
Telegraph
05-06-2025
- Business
- Telegraph
William Sitwell reviews The Blue Stoops, London: ‘This, in all its mash-and-cabbage glory, is the menu of Reform'
They were literally smashing down my past when I walked along Kensington Church Street in London, heading for The Blue Stoops. In the 1990s I lived with my brother, George, around the corner, at the summit of Notting Hill, on a street called Farm Place. Knowing there was a rehab in Surrey of the same name we spent our time putting in the work so the inevitable move from one to the other would be seamless. And much of that effort was concentrated at Kensington Place. Rowley Leigh was the chef of that tall-ceilinged, vast goldfish bowl of a restaurant; the theatrical Tim Brice maître d'. The scene was a constant, civilised party, fuelled by the likes of Leigh's foie gras on a bed of sweetcorn and his chicken and goat's cheese mousse. But, no sooner had I turned the corner of Notting Hill in happy reverie about glorious KP than the air was shattered by thunderous noise. I walked past the old site as demolition dust blew up and into my face. Having eaten most of the menu decades ago, I was now swallowing what was left of the building. Fortunately The Blue Stoops offered respite from my melancholy. Indeed it did far more than that. This corner pub – recently opened by the Allsopp's brewing family and named after the 18th-century tavern (now long since gone) where their first drop of ale was brewed – offers comfort in spades. Nay, shovels. There's a drinking area that's all nooks and crannies, with dark wood panelling, a chequered tile floor and a handsome blue-tiled bar. The ceiling is fag-smoke brown and there's a comfortable dining room filled with caramel-brown banquettes and a couple of booths. And into this Victoriana, where warmth radiates from the staff, comes a wholesome menu to match. You might call it all-day Edwardian. For the starters comprise a trencherman's breakfast – oysters, anchovy toast and devilled eggs – and for lunch or supper you can mix it up with rabbit croquettes, ham hock pie, braised shoulder of lamb, a plate of cheese, and walnut tart. It is distinctly, chest-pumpingly, vow-to-thee-my-country English food. If vegan is hallowed turf to the Lib Dems, then this, in all its rabbity, mash-and-cabbage glory, is the menu of Reform. Three devilled eggs came first, the filling within the hard white cleverly topped with orange fish roe to mimic the yolk – a gentle starter which laid the groundwork for a very tempting 'anchovy toast'. But where was the anchovy? I cut my way through the undergrowth of white onion, parsley and capers and still, on reaching the toast, found none. 'Where's the anchovy?' we wept to the waiter. He told us the chef whips it into the butter. Yet, just like KP, alas, there was no trace of it. There was full-on flavour, however, in three rabbit croquettes, crisp to bite into, warming and gamey within. Joe was enjoying a very fine ham hock pie, but I had the lunch of champions: braised lamb – soft and earthy, the skin crisp and blackened a touch, covered in a green sauce (I detected chives and spinach and parsley). With spring-like green beans dotted around the plate, it was a dish well-balanced but also deeply sumptuous and comforting, like a magic potion for happiness. After a slab of nicely stinky Pevensey Blue cheese, we shared a simple, but very fine, pud of meringue, vanilla ice cream and chocolate sauce.
Telegraph
26-05-2025
- Lifestyle
- Telegraph
Delicious things to have on toast (and crumpets, flatbreads and fritters)
There are so many amazing types of breads that make the perfect base for both classic and creative toppings. I often find inspiration at Asian restaurants, where they use paratha, roti, chapati or naan as a starting point. The Scandinavians are also very inventive with bread, serving up open sandwiches with toppings that are highly textured and colourful, while in Italian restaurants a slice of grilled bread – or even a firm slice of polenta – will come bearing a mound of rich ragout or a piece of roasted meat. Because we needn't stop at bread. Back in the '90s, when his restaurant Kensington Place was still going strong, Rowley Leigh served a brilliant sweetcorn pancake topped with a slice of pan-fried foie gras. At the same time over at Le Caprice, I was dishing up a flattened onion pakora-style fritter with foie gras too. These days we wouldn't dream of cooking with fattened goose liver, but that same base would still work beautifully with friendlier options like chicken or duck livers instead. I love having a bit of fun with crumpets, and once put a dish on my breakfast menu called Posh Crumpet, piled high with seasonal wild mushrooms and a fried duck egg. There are no rules when it comes to choosing a topping for your base; as with everything, flavour is key. Sometimes, the simplest approach can be the most delicious. I remember, as a child, my grandad waxing lyrical about toast and dripping, and when I finally came to try it I completely understood what he was on about. One of my favourite Catalan dishes is pa amb tomàquet which, done properly, is a stellar dish of charred bread rubbed with garlic and then tomato until it disintegrates, drizzled with lots of olive oil. These simple and uncomplicated pleasures never go out of fashion and will always have a place at my table.
