He has all the usual creds ... Michelin stars (two, at Gidleigh Park in Devon), impressive training (a protege of Raymond Blanc), does great takes on the classics and has an engaging, easy-going way with the camera. What makes Caines worthy of special attention is something he rarely talks about, but you can't fail to notice. He's missing his right arm.
He was already a rising culinary star when he lost it in a car accident. You'd think that would be a career-ender for a chef. But he was back in the kitchen in weeks, transferring knife skills to his left hand and learning how to make the most of his prosthesis. And from there to one of the top five chefs in the UK. He's the kind of person who reminds you that "I can't" shouldn't be part of the human vocabulary.
Caines is the executive chef at The Bath Priory, meaning that while he doesn't run this kitchen, he supervises the menus and staff and sent his No. 2, Sam Moody, up from Gidleigh Park to run things. While the place doesn't have a Michelin star yet, it's now the top ranked restaurant in Bath and 45th in the country, according to the latest Sunday Times and Harden's guide. Common sense said we really couldn't afford to sleep at the Priory (a luxury Relais and Chateaux loca
tion), but we decided to make splashing out on dinner there our treat of the weekend.
But first ... the spa
The last thing I expected was a deal. However, online comparison showed the spa here to be far better value for money than the Bath Thermae, and we assumed (rightly) that the small, boutique luxury hotel location would give us a quiet, intimate experience. The half day package, with a one-hour treatment and use of the rest of the facilities, is £75 on weekdays. Including, critically, Friday afternoons. If you want a longer treatment (which we all did), you can just pay the difference.
The spa is small but beautifully appointed and well managed. The comfortably heated pool is perhaps 16 feet wide and 30 long; not large, but big enough for a few laps and lounging. There's a bay on one side with jacuzzi jets, beautifully positioned to look out the French doors onto the formal English gardens. Designers have managed to pull off a fine balance of traditional and modern.
That garden view and the Cotswold stone paving say olde England, the long, thin, brown and black streaked tiles, artwork, grey and black loungers and curving walls with glass insets scream of the latest design. There's a round, free-standing steam room with benches of tiny, sparkling tiles lit by mellow coloured lights. I am normally not a fan ... wet saunas remind me too much of summer in St. Louis ... but here the steam was permeated with eucalyptus, clearing out the nasal passages and bringing a sense of well-being to your whole body. There's a large dry sauna behind this.
The treatment rooms are in a different building, requiring a quick outdoor dash up stairs and across a gravel path. Worth remembering when booking in the depths of winter. I had the Mala Mayi Wrap, one hour and 25 minutes of pure bliss that counts as my best spa treatment ever. Yes, even better than that open-air massage looking out over the Zambezi (See 6.10.09). First, an exfoliating scrub for your whole body. After that, warm, mineral-rich mud gets massaged into your skin. Then you're bundled in the towels that were draped beneath you, secured by the heated pad you've been lying on, now transformed to a warm cocoon. While that mud is doing its good on your skin, the therapist gives you a deep scalp massage and puts super moisturisers on your hair. Then you rinse everything off in a hot, scented shower before returning to the table to have rich moisturisers massaged into all the treated areas. I've had a lot of spa work that feels great at the time, but this one came with lasting benefits of rejuvenated skin.
And now to dinner
You can imagine our state of complete relaxation by the time we left the pool at 5:30 to get dressed and drift upstairs for cocktails. Entering the drawing room, it's immediately obvious what paying three times our B&B rate gets you. There are two elegant rooms to choose from fo
r your lounging, each exquisitely furnished with art and furniture to such consistency this could serve as a Downton Abbey set with little change. The larger drawing room has a sport and military theme, dominated by a wonderful portrait of a whole family painted, life sized, in their motor car, and another dashing chap standing confidently with his polo stick. For the turn of the century, there's a modern, trendy edge here; back in Downton world, this would be the home of the newly-enriched Sir Richard. The other lounge is decorated with portraits of dramatic and romantic women of the time. We had aperitifs in the first, and digestifs in the second, with impeccable service in both.
Settled before the fire with a kir royale in one hand and the menu in the other, we considered our choices. We were aided by a diminutive plate of nibbles featuring polenta cakes with blue cheese and some particularly tasty juniper- flavoured potato crisps, cut into perfect, flat rounds to serve as sandwich top and bottom for steak tartare filling. We could easily have polished off a platter of those!
As with most establishments of this sort, it's "in for a penny, in for a pound". Experience has taught me that going a la carte is never the cheaper option, even though you may think you can reign in expenses this way. The extras and the individual wine prices will always kill you. Especially if your friends have particularly good taste in wine. Far better to go with the tasting menu and the matching wine flight. Take the price tag hit once, gasp with shock, move on and know there won't be any other surprises.
There were three tasting menus on offer. First, the Master Chef menu, three courses that contestants prepared for guests at Gidleigh Park in the finals of Celebrity Masterchef, at £47. The seven course tasting menu was £84, and the seven course signature menu (full of Michael Caines specialities) was £95. Calculating the per-course price, we figured seven courses were a much better deal than three; we felt the bigger menus were the more fiscally responsible path! We were tempted by both, but there were a few dishes we found more intriguing on the regular tasting menu, so went in that direction.
We started with a mushroom velouté topped with roasted peanuts; a surprising but very pleasing combination. The sommelier ... our new best friend ... matched this with an equally surprising Riesling, magnificently dry but with a sweet finish. Next up, duck two ways. Or, as the menu put it, "Salisbury mallard, hazelnut crust, pâté en croûte, soused vegetable."
The fish course was a highlight. Truffle butter poached turbot served with beef cheek, a duxelle of wild mushrooms and a cèpe velouté. Anyone who says they hate fish would be converted into a true believer by this dish which, thanks to the fish's ability to take on the flavours around it, was as meaty as anything to come out of the deep forest. The Californian pinot noir that came with it was light enough to not overwhelm the fish, but had depths to match the meat. Sublime.
Hillary and I were unable to decide between cheese and pudding. The truncated-topped pyramid on the cart announced the presence of my favourite cheese on the planet, pouligny-saint-pierre. Meanwhile, the dessert menu promised chocolate fondant. What's a girl to do? The lovely waiting staff, warmed up now by 90 minutes of our charm, suggested we split a single extra plate of cheese, and then loaded it high. Adding four options from the French regions and boutique English producers to join that lovely goat's cheese.
Next, the pre-dessert. Such a fine concept, meant to transition you slowly from the height of your savoury experience to whatever sweet blockbuster is coming. In this case, a light vanilla panna cotta with fig and cinnamon. A fine contrast and appetiser to the chocolate fondant.
We started with a mushroom velouté topped with roasted peanuts; a surprising but very pleasing combination. The sommelier ... our new best friend ... matched this with an equally surprising Riesling, magnificently dry but with a sweet finish. Next up, duck two ways. Or, as the menu put it, "Salisbury mallard, hazelnut crust, pâté en croûte, soused vegetable."
The fish course was a highlight. Truffle butter poached turbot served with beef cheek, a duxelle of wild mushrooms and a cèpe velouté. Anyone who says they hate fish would be converted into a true believer by this dish which, thanks to the fish's ability to take on the flavours around it, was as meaty as anything to come out of the deep forest. The Californian pinot noir that came with it was light enough to not overwhelm the fish, but had depths to match the meat. Sublime.
The savoury dishes climaxed with local rabbit done four ways (loin, rack, offal, confit leg) with pease pudding, ham hock and mustard jus. I know this sounds heavy as a sledgehammer with flavours that can overpower. But the dish was elegant, subtle, light and beautiful to look at. I, the offal hater, didn't even know it was there until I reviewed the menu afterwards. It was simply a great dish, and one that made us all wonder why we don't eat rabbit more. If for no other reason than to drink big, bold bordeaux like the liquid garnets they poured into our glass with this one.
Hillary and I were unable to decide between cheese and pudding. The truncated-topped pyramid on the cart announced the presence of my favourite cheese on the planet, pouligny-saint-pierre. Meanwhile, the dessert menu promised chocolate fondant. What's a girl to do? The lovely waiting staff, warmed up now by 90 minutes of our charm, suggested we split a single extra plate of cheese, and then loaded it high. Adding four options from the French regions and boutique English producers to join that lovely goat's cheese.
Next, the pre-dessert. Such a fine concept, meant to transition you slowly from the height of your savoury experience to whatever sweet blockbuster is coming. In this case, a light vanilla panna cotta with fig and cinnamon. A fine contrast and appetiser to the chocolate fondant. Many try with this dish, and few succeed. This one was perfect, if too small. A tube of hot, firm cake, oozing semi-liquid, steaming chocolate, gone in two bites. The diminutive size was compensated for by the exquisite presentation. A paint strip of chocolate, accompanied by two circles of passion fruit coulis with dot of chocolate at each centre, a chocolate cup of the same size and shape as the fondant filled with tonka bean sorbet (tastes like passion fruit). A study in black and orange. Rarely have I wanted so badly to lick my plat in a restaurant, but I reminded myself that ladies do not do such things. (Real ladies, no doubt, wouldn't have the thought, much less revel in multiple desserts.)
Finally, on to coffee and petit fours, which counted as one of the seven courses. I like the honesty of this. With many menus it's an extra, but coffee is usually essential, and can be an expensive add-on. If you're going to make it a formal course, however, then the petit fours better be up to it. Which they were here, with a range of truffles, brownies and tiny pannacottas with a black current caramel crisp. Seeing the extent of the final course, and the chocolate on offer, we could have chosen the cheese over the fondant without feeling deprived. Three full dessert courses was, perhaps, a bit excessive!
You'd think the whole meal would feel excessive, but this is where the magic of the chef's planning shows itself. Despite the heavy flavours, and the hearty and substantial ingredients, everything balanced beautifully. Because each plate was just a few bites perfect bites, all that food left you feeling satisfied, but not stuffed.
Sam Moody may not be as famous as his boss today, but I suspect it's coming. As, one assumes, is the Bath Priory's Michelin star. Wonder if that spa deal will get more expensive when that day arrives?
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