Saturday, November 24, 2007

Was it really three years ago we were here last? We had to check back in the old Visitors’ Book – but, yes, there we were…signed in 'Sept 2004'. Can you believe that three years have flown by…? Back then it was the popular annual Food Festival - but we were out of season now.


Lots of things have changed at 36 On The Quay, Emsworth – the décor for example is dramatically different. When they first opened their rooms in 2003 Paddy from the Telegraph visited (within a week) and published a glowing report . However, I think the décor soon became dated (frilly curtains and china vases everywhere) and after some considerable criticism from (amongst others) Jan Moir (Telegraph again), a full refurb was instigated. Tables are now given much more space and curtains have been replaced by the clean lines of cream blinds. Much more minimalist. The only thing that hasn’t changed is the owner, Karen's very frosty reception. Why do we always feel we are an inconvenience when we arrive rather than a warmly welcomed guest? I think she may be in the wrong business - (even if her chef husband definitely isn't).

It was mid-afternoon and it wasn’t busy, we were shown upstairs to our room. We had the smallest one this time; “Clove” at the back of the building – the best rooms are “Cinnamon” (which fortunately T&G had) or “Vanilla” which both have wonderful sea views).
It was blowing an absolute hooley outside so we postponed the brisk walk along the sea wall and went to the pub nextdoor instead. It’s a proper locals pub and we met the fisherman, Kevin, who supplies Ramon. He was anxious to tell us about how wonderful his catch of Brill was today. “You must be loaded ££” he said as we left, “being able to eat there!” (he was probably a bit worse for wear by this time) “Why’s that?” T asked. “It’ll cost yer about £100 each to eat there, yer know” Kev explained (as if we were naïve about Michelin-starred hospitality). “Seems very reasonable to me” T said with a wink and we left them to their astonishment and drunken gossip.

Strangely, there was no tasting menu on offer tonight (Saturday). Stranger still no Brill was on the menu, either (was Kevin just telling a tall story)? But lots of nice things anyway. We had one each of the five starters to share between us (we couldn’t decide), and the winner was the scallops. Mains included veal (delish) and I had the halibut (of course), of which there was loads piled-up on a gorgeous mash. Disappointingly, there was no 'Rhubarb Celebration' (Ramon's signature dish) for dessert. But lots of nice alternatives…but service was slow throughout and we had to remind the waitress more than once to bring us some more wine and water when it disappeared.

At the end of the evening, I was looking forward to disappearing behind the secret bookcase in the dining room (a bit like an escape into Narnia). Only one other table were left (it was about midnight) and they were all intrigued when I tried to open it. But it was locked from the other side. “I didn’t have time to unlock it tonight” explained the waitress. No apologies or offer to go round to unlock it for us (maybe she’s learning her (poor) customer service attitude from Karen). Reluctantly (and I have to admit, rather drunkenly) all four of us ran round the outside of the restaurant (it was very cold and raining and windy) to reach the other door and the stairs to our bedrooms. Only afterwards did I wonder why I hadn’t insisted that one of the staff simply go round and unlock the door for us. This is a strange place.

Next morning, as usual, there was fresh continental breakfast available on the ‘landing’. Lots of different types of fresh breads and croissants and fruits and lovely yoghurt. Those in the bigger bedrooms, can have breakfast served to them. I just can’t understand why Karen doesn’t set aside a part of the restaurant downstairs, so that everyone can eat in a bit more comfort.??

Anyway, another successful weekend donated to Kwik-Fit (will my reward be in heaven?) Now we’re on the final countdown to the Christmas break.