The Star at Harome is just such a warming and friendly establishment but with the added bonus of being a restaurant that serves game, fish and fine wines. Oh and it has won just about every “best gastro pub” award going including, at one point, a Michelin star. It’s grouse season and I might just be in heaven. I am going to pay a celestial price too, £111 (a Nelson) plus service is more than a trifle in this part of the world.

Seated in the impossibly twee bar with ragtime jazz and opera inconveniencing the eardrums, the menu reveals my favourite game bird served in British Standard style – game chips, bread sauce, water-cress, redcurrant jelly. It being Yorkshire, a big bowl of duck fat roast potatoes and a mixed veg pan are added to the table. As a resident of God’s own county, and having been here long enough to know that Tykes rate their food primarily on quantity, I had anticipated this and exercised my right not to order a starter.

The game bird was a bit pissed off when I badgered her to chill my Fleurie (the cheapest Burgundy on the list was £54, which is a poor effort in grouse season) to drinking temperature. “I’ll put it in the fridge sir”, an ice bucket would be fine. But actually, erm, just rocks? Why is it so hard to get an ice bucket with a little aqua so it actually chills the wine?

The “young” grouse came without fuss although off the bone. I don’t think it was as well hung as one I ate at Le Café Anglais a couple of weeks ago. It was overcooked by comparison, and the duck fat roasties were not as crisp. But eating grouse looking out on the moor where it was shot adds a certain reverence and makes such preferences seem petty, especially when the shootist sat at the bar has just parked his Purdey near your table. And actually, grouse done medium has its own merits, especially in a rich gravy with whole tart redcurrants setting the saliva glands to ‘flush’.

A cheese board from the “British Isles” was extensive and impressive. Who needs French cheese? Cornish Yarg is always good in my experience, but a salty blue goat’s cheese by the name of Truckwell???? was my favourite of 4 random selections.

The 2009 Fleurie La Madone, a pretty rich £32.95 by the way, was a bit jammy, but of the redcurrant variety so went perfectly with the game. Not well matched to cheese though, so a glass of Austrian Trockenbeerenauslese (something the waiter was surprised I could pronounce) at £12.50, was the honey to the bee. Simply liquefied nectar.

A strange mix of genuine local farmers ordering a swift G &T on the way home, local ‘Lords’ desperately trying to dress in country house style, but looking more like they came from Del Boy’s manor, combined with random tourists, and a 60 year old bloke from Hampshire with his Dad, make for an eclectic but enjoyable craic. Yorkshire is a bit like France. You might not like the people but you have to love the way of life and this attracts outsiders by the coach load.

The Star at Harome is everything that’s good about Yorkshire, without the people. How did the South find out about this place?

The Star at Harome
Near Helmsley
North Yorkshire
YO62 5JE

T: +44 1439 770397
E: reservations@thestarinnatharome.co.uk
W: www.thestaratharome.co.uk

How to Drink at Christmas by Victoria Moore is a book that promises to guide you to beverage Elysium.  What to drink when, and with what, cocktail recipes (including some interesting non-alcoholic ones), which brands of champagnes and spirits you should choose, non-specific anecdotes and advice.  Tory winos will recognise the author as the Daily Telegraph wine critic. The book opens with a chapter on how to stock your drinks cabinet for the festive season. This is the only problem with giving this book as a gift.  By the time the wrapping paper is crumpled on the floor, it is too late to take the otherwise excellent advice.  £9.99 Granta.

Most winos are also foodies. If your wino friend likes Champagne, Muscadet, Picpoul de Pinet or Guinness, there is a better than evens chance they also like oysters. Knowing ones natives from ones rocks is a basic test that even those without testicular cancer will pass. But can they tell you where to eat the best oysters in London? How much of your RDA of B12 or zinc is contained within an oyster serving? Or how, in a suicidal mood, it is possible to simultaneously slash your wrists whilst shucking your molluscs. What about recipes for serving them, or (sacrilegiously) cooking them? Or simply where to buy them. The London Oyster Guide by Colin Pressdee is an invaluable bivalve companion for all shellfish afficionados. I would, however, start from the presumption that some of the restaurant reviews are sponsored. £12.99, Graffeg, or see www.londonoysterguide.com.

Did you know you can give a Wine Society Membership as a gift?  If you can afford to invest £40 of your Xmas budget on your wino friend, then this may well be the best money you ever spent.  Surely they will repay you with an odd bottle, or at least invites to their parties where you should find many a decent wine being served.  No Jacob’s Creek here. £40, The Wine Society.

Glasses are very important indeed. Not just for winos over 40, who need them simply to examine the stuff they are drinking. Georg Riedel has assumed an ethereal reputation for designing the must have wine glasses of my generation.  Riedel Vinum is the BMW of stemware and will have most winos slurping and gurgling happily. UK prices tend to be about £15 per glass which is about the price of a BMW key ring, but much better value. If you are unsure which model to buy, this post will help.

If your budget is at the other end of the scale there are many gadgetty type gifts such as corkscrews, wine thermometers etc.  One super-cheap option that caught my eye is a decanter cleaning pack.  Basically a small box of ball bearings that you swirl around your decanter to remove wine stains etc.  Just go The Wine Society website and search for “Magic Balls” (no, really!). £2.95.

Happy shopping!

Opentable threw up Angelus on Bathurst St.  Was it to be an homage to a great wine, or a mare?  (“Mayor” – see what I did there? Dicky daughters and all that).

Run by enthusiastic and friendly French people, the food is very Gallic, and the service is so attentive that eventually, after 16 “spams”, I had to unsubscribe from the bread basket.  I resisted the frog’s legs in favour of steak tartare which was tart (gherkin) and meaty (untainted by oven or grill).  I guess I expected the oeuf to be a raw yolk but it turned out to be a whole boiled quail’s egg which was quacking.

My main of pot au feu, with chicken and sausage and cabbage and stuffing (I’m sure it was described better than that on the menu) was amongst the juiciest, tenderest poulet I have eaten.  Dessert of glazed lemon tart with a glass of south-west France sweet wine floored me in a cow-tipping sort of way.

A long chat with the Maître D’ indicated that he probably doubles as the sommelier.  His wine knowledge was good, in parts.  I chose a 2009 Fleurie which was okay in parts, but not really quite at the same heights as many other Bojos I have tried from this vintage of the aeon.  Quite drinkable but I expect a bit more for £38.  It annoyed me a little that he swirled the wine around in the glass before presenting it to taste.  That’s my decision not his.  But I am pickier than Morecambe Bay’s finest (for the avoidance of doubt there were no cockles on the menu) so maybe you think that is OK.

The food was beautifully presented and tasty as hell, but I think they must hold the British & Commonwealth record for most tables squeezed into a small space.  I measured a wincing 4 inches (and remember I’m a bloke) as my toilet escape gap past the next table.

Apart from sitting on top of the romantic, flirty and snogging couples either side of this iPhone toting solo diner, the atmosphere is pretty amiable.  But, while I am on bugbears, how about a side plate for the crusty bread?  Or at least decrumb me before main course.

It’s funny that the better a place is, the more the minor complaints are magnified.  It is nice to have the opportunity have only the crumbs on the table to reflect on, rather than inedible leftover food on the plate.  And the wine was even SERVED AT THE RIGHT TEMPERATURE (about 12 degrees)!  Congrats from the #WART campaign.

In summary – super food, but at an exacting price.  £111.38 to be exact, for one head including service.  You pays yer money and takes yer choice.  I think I’d return for a lunchtime special, or an evening meal when it is quiet.  But there is a cluster of restaurants on this street that I am tempted to try first on value grounds.  But, if you like it cosy and your budget is less sensitive than a double glazing salesman’s patter, then you are probably already a regular.

Angelus
4, Bathurst St
London
W2 2SD
T: +44 (0)207 402 0083
E: info@angelusrestaurant.co.uk
W: www.angelusrestaurant.co.uk

Portugal is one country where I once had to pick a waiter up off the floor as he made a goalkeeping dive to try to prevent me from drinking red wine at an inappropriately warm temperature.  Good stuff!”

You can read André’s article here.

Sorry Paul, but the first taste was everything I don’t like about overcooked new world wines.  More forward than the Irish scrum.  Metallic tannins.  Darker and fruitier than Graham Norton’s jacksie.  Not one to drink on its own then.

But being consigned to the flat for the night, I had decided on one of my regular gourmet dishes of beans on toast.  The match was perfect.  I would strongly advise you to go for Branston baked beans, if you are an adult.  Also, the discerning beans on fan always selects brown/granary bread toasted slightly on the burnt side of well done.  Regarding the wine, I could refer you to the Wine At Right Temperature campaign, or you could read the back of the bottle which recommends serving at 16-18ºC.  I wish more wine makers would put a recommended drinking temperature on the label.  It would help my battle with restaurateurs who serve Chianti from the top of the pizza oven, and Gavi from the depths of the Blast Chiller.  “You want an ice bucket sir?  You DO realise it’s a red wine, sir?”  Erm, yes, I am well aware of what I ordered, thanks.  I just don’t like drinking it at 10º warmer than recommended.

So what of Dante’s inferno?  If you chill it down to the right temp and eat with something rich like baked beans, I think you will love it.  It is imported by Whittaker Wines of Macclesfield (doesn’t appear to have a website).  I haven’t checked the price and can’t quickly find another supplier, but if it’s in the <£10 bracket it would be good value.  If you live near Macc, you are fine of course.

Themed, so far as I can tell, on 1970′s food, and indeed atmosphere, it is a welcome blast from the past, with a sole exception – the wine glasses.  They could do with updating from ‘old fashioned pub’ to ‘trendy bistro’, Riedel in other words.

The service is also a bit 1970′s.  A little over friendly in a Uriah Heep meets Mr Bean sort of way.  Our waiter wanted to share our experience a bit too much.  “So how are you guys, have you been up to anything nice today, what have you been doing?” got a sharp retort from Fred, “actually could we please have a drink?”  I was pretty parched too after 15 dry minutes at our table.

But the childhood souvenirs kept flowing like the piped music (1980′s pop, in an ironic twist).

Mackerel pâté reminded me of why I love that fish, and rue it’s virtual disappearance as a menu staple.  Freshly fished mackerel served in a Clovelly hotel is one of the most memorable of my childhood dining experiences.

McHenry Hohnen Shiraz, 2008 is priced from the 1970′s at £22 19s 0d, or £22.95 as we now know it.  Tanner’s have it at £9.95 retail so a mere 130% markup (full marks).  Damson fruity but quite heavy.  Fortunately, Mr Heep didn’t bat an eyelid when I asked him to take the temperature down a bit.  In fairness it wasn’t served from the wine oven in the first place – < 20°C, I reckon.  So, full marks from the WART campaign.

Lamb Henry was rosemary and mint super-tasty but was surpassed by the best mixed veg portion I have possibly ever eaten.  Perfectly cooked cauliflower, sugar snaps, carrots, broccoli seasoned with a little freshly ground love.

Meanwhile Uriah served a fresh glass of wine to his “buddy” at the next table, and two sticky toffee puddings to his “folks” just along the way.

He brought me, by way of a self inflicted experiment, a glass of Lakeland Liqueur.  A local brew of whisky, caramel and butterscotch served to “mates” only.  Very tasty but would have been even nicer as a digestif if slightly more potent than 20% ABV.  It superbly complemented the After Eight Mints, though, a confection that I’ve not seen since a memorable incident in a Buxton curry house in 1992, the only incident of that weekend that mercifully involved no sheep.

The dessert menu (all made in house) could have been conceived by Keith Floyd in his sober period (April 75 to May 75).  Apple Strudel, Black Forest Sunday, Sherry Crème Brulée, and best of all, an Assiete of Lucy’s Desserts.  As the menu says “keep Cumbria curvy!”  Be it ever so ‘umble how can you not fall in love with a place like this?

Lucy’s Restaurant & Bar
Ash Street
Bowness-on-Windermere
LA23 3EB
T:  01539 442793

Maybe they should join my Facebook Wine At Right Temperature Campaign.

http://www.facebook.com/group.php?gid=180871924981#/group.php?gid=180871924981

If the link fails to get you there, simply search for Wine At Right Temperature in Facebook Groups.

My opening exchange with the waitress:  Gevrey Chambertin Domaine Heresztyn 2005 please – what temperature would you serve that?  “About two above room”. Ouch, no WART awards here.  Please can I have an ice bucket?  “Yes sir, no problem.”  Things are starting to improve already.  After all, the wine list looks well thought out, and superbly priced, and the menu looks bistro chic.

The wine turned out to be much warmer than the room, which was about “cellar”, confusingly, and served (the wine) in Riedel Vinum Bordeaux glasses to complete the wine misplacings.  After waitress stares colder than the ice bucket, I didn’t dare enquire whether the Pinot Noir glasses were just being washed.

The wine itself was super. Not so much barnyard as tea room with warm flavours of fruit loaf, Darjeeling, and plummy blackberries.

A Bury black pudding salad with hen’s egg (interesting how modern menus often clarify this – the source bird, and “hen” I took to mean “chicken”) was proper northern pudding attired in Parisian haute coutoure.  Tart Dijon dressing and tidy leaves, presumably to acknowledge Autumn has arrived in Leeds.

Wood pigeon came on braised red cabbage as if shot down in a farmer’s field, and the pigeon was redder than the cabbage which is how I like it.  However, I need a training course in eating small birds.  There has to be a better way of eating wood pigeon than scraping it off the bone with a fork.

The veg was no less than superb, I won’t bore you with the inventive detail.

Dessert for Fred was vanilla rice pudding with spiced orange jelly and fudge pieces – if only I was served this at primary school 40 years ago.  I had a selection of cheeses with a small glass of Fleur d’Or Sauternes (violets and honey), both of which filled my belly intensely and admirably, although I’m sure the waiter saw the irony of removing my macchiato before the cheese was served.

At £131 for two including numerous alcoholic beverages and with a bottle of fine wine, this is good value.  In London it would be stupendous.  In Leeds, sadly, it is simply a rare occurrence to find food this good, and a totally normal occurrence to find wine knowledge so lacking.  I was chatting to a mixed European group on the next table who had already sent back one corked bottle of claret (to considerable resistance), and complained that the next, whilst not TCA tainted, was too warm.

I recruited them to my WART campaign.

If you are teetotal, or simply prepared to argue your corner against wine ignorance, you should spend some time here.  It is so much better than the somewhat soulless, and much more expensive, Anthony’s fine dining sibling, a pigeon stride or two along Boar Lane.  Piazza’s potent combination of architecture, atmosphere, and food is unbeatable.  The mere addition of a little oenological schooling would put it near the top of my list of favourite places in the North.

Piazza by Anthony, Corn Exchange, Call Lane, Leeds. LS1 7BR.
T: +44 113 247 0995
W: www.piazzabyanthonysrestaurant.co.uk

I dined at Fino last week, an upmarket tapas place on Charlotte Street, London.  I ordered a bottle of Crianza and asked what temperature it would be served at.  The Spanish waiter handed me a bottle from the shelf behind that was about 25°C.  I volunteered that the people of La Rioja would never serve it so warm and was met with a resigned shrug.  “The customers complain if we serve it at the recommended temperature”.

Similar conversations I have had in numerous restaurants across the country always fall into two categories.  The first is the Fino example where the waiter points to the ignorance of the British public.  The second is where the waiter is one of the ignorami.  On more than one occasion I have been told that I cannot have an ice bucket for my red wine.

We Brits have it so drilled into our psyche that red wine should be tropical and white wine arctic that I wonder if we will ever change.

You might ask who the hell I am to determine what temperature a wine should be served at and people should drink to personal taste.  I totally agree with that, but it is not me who makes the suggestion, it is the person who made the wine and by listening to them, I have much improved my enjoyment of wine.  Furthermore, almost everyone I have forced to try a red in the teens rather than twenties has considered it a revelation.  It is a shame to spend so much money on wine and not get maximum enjoyment out of it.  But live and let live eh?

So if you run a restaurant, I understand that you have to play to your customer base.  Just please don’t look at me like I’m a pig at an H1N1 conference if I ask for an ice bucket when you serve me a red from your wine oven.