An escape to English countryside with just a hint of French flavour
AMICHELIN-starred lunch at the seaside followed by an evening in a French-styled bedand-breakfast is not the sort of fare one expects to find 90 minutes from London. Not on the English side of the Channel.
Yet we had just that in Kent, just a few kilometres from the town of Whitstable, renowned for its oysters and a popular second home destination for DFLs — down-from-Londons — with bonuses to burn.
Having dined at its oldest restaurant, Wheelers Oyster Bar with its tiny parlour reminiscent of Dickens, and strolled along the narrow, shop-lined streets, we were seeking something off the beaten track.
Discovering The Linen Shed in a nearby village, Boughtonunder-Blean, was a delight. An army drill hall during the First World War, the clapboard exterior did not hint at what lay inside. Greeted with a kiss by the owner, Vickie, we were ushered onto the patio overlooking an English country garden in full bloom. A wooden gypsy caravan peeked out of the foliage. Tea was offered to refresh us after our brief journey. The golden teapot would have delighted Marie Antoinette, while the homebaked granola squares might have replaced cake in her notorious riposte to the proletariat’s demand for bread.
Vickie is not only a trained chef, but also a consummate interior decorator. French shabby chic and antique furniture filled this Bohemian home. The bedroom was large and light, a huge, comfortable bed dressed with fragrant white linen, lace at the window, the TV tucked away in an armoire.
A lunch reservation at The Sportsman involved a 15-minute drive through country lanes to the village of Seasalter. Having arrived early, we took a walk along the pebble beach. The tide was out and locals gathered cockles on the mud flats. The smell of kelp hung heavy in the heat, a welcome memory for a landlocked sea-lover. Alongside the shore, sheep grazed in fields. As our lunch was sure to be using local produce, I felt surrounded by the ingredients.
Back at the restaurant, simply decorated as befits the seaside, we sat at the bar sipping homemade blackcurrant cordial. We chose the tasting menu, good value compared with London prices and a chance to appreciate the skill of the chef. The restaurant makes its own salt and butter, offered alongside three in-house breads which alone would have made for a fine lunch.
Awaking next morning from a restful sleep, we were informed that breakfast would be a leisurely affair. It began on the terrace with homemade yoghurt and local strawberries. Ushered in to a beautiful dining room with French doors open to the garden, we ate eggs with the best bacon ever, rösti with truffle salt and creamed mushrooms that were groaningly good. Other options included grilled vine tomatoes with crisp serrano ham and basil oil, or pancakes with maple syrup and bacon. Pots of tea and coffee, breads, homemade jams and local apple juice were in constant supply.
Leaving the oasis that is The Linen Shed put me briefly in mind of abandoning jobs and kids to stay on a few days.
Vickie hugged us farewell like old friends, packed us off with her granola recipe and directions to a nearby farm shop where we stocked up on the award-winning bacon and boxes of fresh cherries.
I meant it when I wished her “Au revoir”.