It could also be called THE PIG - near Bristol.
Bath is posher. Bath is cooler (although we never get into Bath, because you don’t want to leave THE PIG).
Let me ‘splain:
THE PIGs are a group of eleven farm-to-table establishments with rooms, across southern England. They are often housed in grand old estates, such as ours outside of Bath. The land includes huge kitchen gardens, chickens, pigs, bees, and a couple of ‘potting sheds’ for spa treatments; even a deer park.
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| The main house isn't really the main mansion, just one of the smaller gate houses, most likely |
The Boy and I were supposed to return to Naples and Sicily late last summer, until I fractured my hip. We had to postpone that trip until next month this year. In the meantime, we made a consolation visit to the southwest, and THE PIG-near Bath.
On first inspection, the main building is a rambling great house that has been “rusticated” down to a very comfortable hotel.
In the restaurant, the menu has a map on the reverse side showing a 25-mile radius inside of which are all of their suppliers, including seafood purveyors, (yes are lobsters grown off the shores of England).
The restaurant is situated in what is, essentially,
a hot house: there are live plants on all the tables
and along all the windows. A gardener comes
every morning to water them all.
We spent four glorious nights here while I was graduating from two crutches to one. And because I was on crutches, Scott booked us a ‘gardener’s hut,’ situated about 100 steps from the main house in an imposingly large kitchen garden. No vast staircases to navigate.
Our large king sized bed looks at a very pretty ‘Cheney’s’ wood burning stove.
The weather has turned autumnal and there’s a nip in the air, so we’re glad to have the wood burning stove.
The garden staff is legion and the hotel and restaurant staff are legion in their attitude toward giving their best to their guests. (The management looks for a certain kind of employee - one who is not a Michelin-star wannabe, but a down-to-earth professional.)
We enjoyed ourselves so much we decide to return after Scott’s hip replacement surgery.
Mid February is just plain crappy weather in England.
We haven’t seen the sun for several weeks. I mean, my weather app has said “0 hours of sunlight” every single day for weeks. It can get pretty depressing. But THE PIG was a wonderful antidote.
Our favourite managers, Amy and Sam, were there and remembered us. This time, our room was in one of the many annexes to the main house, 30 steps outside the main entry and up a flight of stairs.
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| A couple of prints mounted just outside our room |
We looked out on the beehives, chickens and the part of the deer park where the animals gathered to eat the hay set out for them.
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| Look at those antlers! |
And THE PIG is just how we remembered it: cozy bar, sunny dining room.
After lunch, I took a stroll around the grounds, through the vast garden where empty stalks of brussels sprouts (all eaten of course) stood out like a denuded forest. It’s February so there’s not much growing that’s ready to harvest.
Except a wonderful surprise: several beds of French breakfast radishes!
This olive tree must have been here for
some time. Look at the size of the trunk!
We spent three glorious days this time, mostly inside (too cold, too rainy) and fell into a mini routine of breakfast, then reading, writing, studying (for Scott, both Italian and backgammon) then lunch, an afternoon nap, a cocktail in the drawing room before dinner, dinner, a nightcap then off to bed.
Just what the doctor ordered.
One of the many fireplaces in the
public rooms, all lovingly lit by morning.
I should say something about the food & drink. Some of the best venison I ever had was here at THE PIG. Also some of the best smoked trout and excellent plaice fillets. Even my rump steak wasn't bad, but made all the better for a delicious peppercorn sauce. (I've been ordering steak with peppercorn sauce a lot lately, so I know whereof I speak.)
Not everything was Michelin calibre, but enough of it was that our memories are: we want to come back. There was a 'rosti' made of parsnip that was, frankly, awesome. I ordered it several times. They make their own bread fresh several times a day. There's always honey and homemade jams for breakfast, and a homemade apple cider vinegar they offer in the morning to get the gut going.
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| Eccentric décor in the drawing room |
Each evening we'd find ourselves in the drawing room enjoying a pre dinner cocktail. Our favourite place to sit was under two prints by Hogarth: Beer Street and Gin Lane.
