Movers, bakers & shakers: West Cornwall
Strong community spirit and a laid-back approach to life make this corner of the south-west a haven for artisans to conjure up the likes of rose petal gin, smoked duck and seaweed absinthe
In this corner of the south-west, artisans conjure up the likes of rose petal gin, smoked duck and seaweed absinthe
In a stone-walled courtyard in Cornwall’s Trelowarren Estate, where curvy late-summer apples thud onto the first scattering of autumn leaves and fat plums ripen in the warm afternoon sun, a cocktail has just been born (trelowarren.com). Its creator, Tom Rimmer, from the estate’s New Yard restaurant, watches our group take our first sips from frosted glasses: a coral-pink rose gin blended with one of Cornwall’s oldest native apple varieties, frozen raspberries and a stick of cinnamon. It’s a resounding hit. Ten minutes later, hot off the apple press, Ben’s Roses (Ben after the apple variety; rose after the gin) is on the menu.
The organic gin is produced by local Hannah Lamiroy, one of a new breed of artisan gin makers leading a revolution to “clean up” alcohol. Hannah spent two years perfecting the recipe over her kitchen sink, and now makes it in batches in copper stills in a small distillery in Penzance. “It’s the cleaner dark side,” Hannah tells me, explaining that she developed the recipe because she wanted to enjoy a social drink but not suffer the hangover that she believes partly comes from consuming the additives that are in many run-of-the-mill beers, wines and spirits. “We spend all this time thinking about organic meat and vegetables, but what about the alcohol we drink? I wanted to be able enjoy a drink, but for it to be as kind to my body as possible.”
The mother of two keeps her formula top secret, but does tell me that it contains fresh petals from three varieties of David Austin old English roses – grown at a certified organic edible flower farm in Devon – six organic botanicals and organic neutral grain spirit. By happy accident, Tinkture rose gin changes colour when poured, turning from amber-gold to delicate blush pink at its peak. “See, magic!” she exclaims as she shows me (wearetinkture.com).
Hannah might still be tinkering with her recipe were it not for a friend who urged her to bottle it in time for a charity gathering he was organising at Nancarrow Farm, near Truro, which runs regular feasts and food events (nancarrowfarm.co.uk). In the nick of time, she managed it – and her business was launched. The gin is sold in umber-hued chemistry bottles, with a label artfully drawn by her father-in-law, and a watertight seal made by a friend who works for the submarine department of MI6. The bottles are designed to be refilled, with top-up pouches »
reducing waste and transport costs. In Britain’s first plastic-free town, it seems fitting that Tinkture has a strong eco ethos.
Hannah is not the only producer in Penzance who is reshaping alcohol into a healthier format. At Pocketful of Stones distillery, where Hannah makes her gin, she introduces me to distillery owner Shaun Bebington, a larger-than-life South African publican who produces his own additivefree drinks, including a cider brandy, whisky, absinthe, a summer cup and gin (caspyn.com). To one side, standing sentry like shiny Buddhas, are two huge copper stills. To the other are rows of vintage wine barrels and grain-filled hessian sacks, and shelves lined with chemistry bottles containing apricot kernels, amaretto, kelp, beech leaf and cassia bark. It’s like stepping into an all-natural episode of Breaking Bad.
Shaun offers me a taste of his Morveren absinthe, made with Cornish seaweed and wormwood picked from sea cliffs at nearby Zennor. “It is hallucinogenic – but only in very large quantities”, he assures me. “You’d die from alcohol poisoning long before you starting hallucinating.” At 66% proof, it’s eye-stingingly strong, too strong for more than a sip, so fortunately neither pose a risk. Besides, it’s only 11am.
On Penzance’s seafront, I totter across a long sweep of shingle beach and fill my lungs with briny sea air. Just as I do, like a curtain call, the mist parts to reveal one of Cornwall’s most iconic landmarks: St Michael’s Mount, a rocky outcrop crowned with a castle. Although Penzance lacks the cachet of neighbouring St Ives and Padstow, it has a rootsy, sea-blown charm that feels gutsier than many of Cornwall’s harbour towns. Its streets and shopping arcades are ramshackle and bohemian, and the place is bathed in that same soft, wispy light that has inspired artists for centuries. Drawn by its no-fuss atmosphere and supportive community, artisans have moved in, seeking an affordable, unpretentious place to develop their products.
“People are getting tired of celebrity chefs and having to book a table three months in advance,” guesthouse owner Susan Stuart told me over breakfast that morning. “Eating seasonal, local produce isn’t a trend here, it’s just what people do.” Susan owns Chapel House, a graceful, light-filled Georgian home in Penzance’s Old Quarter, where white walls are hung with landscape paintings by students at nearby Newlyn School of Art and where antique furniture sits alongside stylish Nordic pieces. Susan plays a big part in the local community, spearheading a fundraising campaign to restore the town’s elegant art deco seafront lido and install it with geothermal heating. She also champions local producers, rarely straying far from Penzance to buy ingredients for her breakfasts and weekend supper clubs.
At Hole Foods deli, in the pretty harbour town of Mousehole, I stop for a coffee and watch fishermen repairing nets on their boats, paddle surfers bobbing on gentle waves and sandwicheating holidaymakers swerving from cackling seagulls (@HoleFoodsDeli).
Further up the coast, in the hamlet of St Buryan, I follow the sweet, earthy smell of smouldering oak and bark to Ross Waters’ smokehouse, Wild Smoked (wildsmoked.co.uk). Here, in a stone barn, the man behind the delicious smoked trout breakfast I had at Chapel House uses natural sea salt to cure his produce (rather than the sodium nitrates that are more commonly used) and only smokes with native, sustainably sourced wood. Like many local producers, Ross has eschewed the lure of big supermarkets in favour of selling direct to his customers, through farmers’ markets and at the smokehouse itself. »
His fridges are stacked with smoked cheeses, fish, meats, chillies, salt and butter but, for me, it’s the 24-hour smoked duck that steals the show. “I smoke the heck out of everything,” he tells me. “These days, most smokehouses just give things a token whiff – you can hardly tell that they’ve been smoked. My products remind you of your childhood, when things were smoked properly.” His Smiffy’s Vulcan Smoker kilns, vintage and silvery sleek, are so-called because they’re made from steel and rivets from a Vulcan bomber factory.
That evening, I eat at Artist Residence, a boutique hotel a few doors up from Chapel House. Here, seasonal tasting plates and Cornish meat and fish – smoked in the on-site BBQ smokehouse – are served in a rustic-chic setting, all scrub floors, zinc table tops, granny-chic chairs and industrial lighting.
At 6am the following morning, Newlyn fish market is heaving with white-coated traders bartering for the best prices on the morning’s catch. It’s here that much of the UK’s white fish is landed – turbot, hake, sole and monkfish. In the packing shed of Stevenson Fish, I hear about Jimmy Barnes, a skipper who eats dover sole for breakfast with bread and jam. I learn about a man known only as ‘Cod’ who, despite losing the use of his legs to sepsis, still fishes, in a specially adapted boat. On the quay, I chat to John Webster who, at 73, is Newlyn’s oldest fisherman. He agrees to let me take his photograph but wants to put his teeth in first.
Polgoon is a vineyard and orchard just outside Penzance that offers tours and wine tastings on a 24-acre estate (polgoon.com). Owners Kim and John Coulson battle against the damp, mouldinducing Cornish climate to produce up to 30,000 bottles of wines a year, as well as a range of ciders and juices. I sit under the dappled shade of the site’s vine-wrapped courtyard café, sipping chilled bacchus and eating a chunky wedge of crab sandwich. Inheriting the land with a house, the family at first struggled to know what to do with it. “We had dozens of ideas: we thought about breeding guinea pigs, lavender, snails, rabbits,” Kim tells me. They opted for a vineyard, hand-planted 3,000 vines, paid their children 5p for each snail they collected and, four years later, picked their first harvest. The result is on sale in the vineyard’s shop, along with local crisps and ciders, seaweeds and salts, teas and chocolates, ice creams, honey, beer, relishes and preserves.
For fresh produce, Penzance Farmers’ Market is the place (penzancefarmersmarket. wordpress.com). Held every Friday in St John’s Hall, its gingham-covered tables are laden with fruit and vegetables, just-baked breads, cakes, Cornish cheeses and Wild Smoked’s products.
Before I leave Penzance, I put to the test Hannah’s claims that drinking organic gin reduces hangovers, arranging to meet a friend for rose gin negronis at Appleton’s Bar & Restaurant, on the slopes of a vineyard near Padstow (appletonsatthevineyard.com). Spiked with delicate rose petals encased in ice cubes, the negroni rosas are boozy but not brash, the sharpness of the Berto (a botanical bitter used in place of Campari) softened by a tangible, but subtle, floral tang. The next morning, I tentatively lift my head off the pillow. Nothing – clear as a bell.
HOW TO DO IT
Doubles at Chapel House start at £150, b&b (chapelhousepz.co.uk), and from £120 at Artist Residence (artistresidence.co.uk). More info: visitcornwall.com. Follow Suzy on Instagram @suzybennett.photography.
I SIT UNDER THE DAPPLED SHADE OF THE SITE’S VINE-WRAPPED COURTYARD CAFÉ, SIPPING CHILLED BACCHUS AND EATING A CHUNKY WEDGE OF CRAB SANDWICH