Restaurant Review | Lympstone Manor

EPIC Lunchly Loveliness

We’ve loved Michael Caines ever since his Gidleigh Park days, and have been meaning to visit him at Lympstone for an age. So as a very belated 50th for Will (only nine months late) we finally got round to it. I warn you now that there is less swearing than normal in this post, and a superfluity of superlatives. So here goes my first ever restaurant review.

First, ignore the sat-nav and ditch the main road. Approach via the old village of Lympstone, driving right alongside the estuary and taking in the glories and sadness of the ostentatiously gated second homes. Park up at the top of the hotel drive and stop for a moment to take in the view across the vineyard, or to admire the rather beautiful sculptures in the grounds.

The Menu . This is foodie treatsville territory, so to avoid bankruptcy, we went for lunch rather than dinner and an overnight stay. The a la carte lunch is a super reasonable £85. You’d pay £50 quid for a Sunday roast at most bog standard gastro-pubs, so I think this really is incredible value.

Obviously we didn’t do that. Instead we got over-excited and upgraded ourselves to the eight course tasting menu with some wine which is a tad pricier, and takes a lot longer (3-4 hours in total). But if you love your food, is worth every penny. The current tasting menu is everything I would ever want from my last meal on god’s earth - it is utterly divine, sensual deliciousness every step of the way. So take a seat at a table with a view, and strap yourself in for some serious food porn…

Amuse Bouche. Sea bream tartare. Zesty lime. (citrus excellence is a feature of this menu, and of the cooking generally). Parmesan choux bun - a feast of oozy, creamy warm umami with a crisp outer crunch, with a look of a tiny cheesy nipple. What’s not to like? The combination of the two - the freshness of the fish and then the goo of the cheese, was exceptional. Bouche very much amused.

Orgasmic Bread. Words cannot describe the light, crisp amazingness of this honey bran bun, nor the unctuous yellowed glory of the home-made butter. The noise and the feel when you break into the bread is almost religious. The butter is other wordly and is served on its own tiny slab of marble.

Lobster. For me, the dish of the day. So devastatingly beautiful in visual execution that it took me several minutes of objectification before I could even pick up my cutlery. Again, a citrus delight - the smell of fresh lime zest leapt off the plate as it arrived. Miniature pieces of chopped lobster flesh hiding under the gel (teeny tiny, mathematically precise chopped things is another feature of Caines cookery). A spoonful of caviar that was like tasting pieces of fresh seaweed plucked straight from the sea as it lapped your bare toes.

Duck Liver Terrine. Fabulous with a glass of the home-estate rose, thanks to the excellent sommelier. Stunning to behold, just breathlessly beautiful. Sticky-fingered glazed brioche, so much so that I had to go and wash my hands. Tiny tweezered-on leaves (another Caines signature). Art on a plate.

Salt Cod. Another citrus triumph as the tiny blobs of confit lemon shone through to zing even the most jaded of palates. The tiniest cubes of chorizo (again, how the f*ck do they even do that?). Hint of basil in the samphire. Sommelier triumph again with a Sussex pinot gris - I tasted nettles and elderflower, then lemon and it smelt of the colour green. (Online tasting notes said peach and pear, so what do I know!)

Pigeon. Truffled deliciousness. Pigeon leg that just fell off the bone. Consistency and shine of jus that defied belief. Miraculously tiny onion. Perfectly cooked and rested.

Lamb. Boulangere potato with layers of lamb belly, just amazing. Stunning confit garlic. Clear mint gel. Salty green crust on the lamb to die for. Pea puree like you wouldn’t believe. Solitary tiny mushroom.

Cheese. Beauvale blue from Nottinghamshire. Truffled honey (I can die happy now). Gorgonzola style cheese. Sweet, earthy, salty flavours. Sommelier came up trumps again with a sweet Riesling from New York state. Oh my heart.

Apple. The lightest, speckled vanilla foam, melty air, cut through with the cold sourness of Granny Smith apple sorbet, softening into an apple mousse. Like falling into the comfiest giant bed with the love of your life and fresh linens, at the end of a very long week.

Chocolate Orange. I don’t normally do chocolate, or orange, but this was spectacular. The most delicate chocolate mousse, with orange gloriousness hidden away in the middle. Glorious. Rendered speechless. (I realise that “Glorious. Rendered Speechless” reads like a foodie version of the shipping forecast).

The Final Details. And as if the location, the views and the incredible food were not enough, the tiny details catch your eye. Quite the most exquisite napkin ring I have ever seen. I mean, just look at that. Fortunately, I only had a clutch bag, so no opportunity to indulge my kleptomaniac tendencies.

Wow. Just wow. We will be saving up for the full-on evening, stay overnight experience. I can’t recommend highly enough, get yourself there if you can. Lympstone Manor

Read this again at your leisure and revel in the foodie beauty, as next week we’ll probably be back to knackered kievs. Bye for now.