Michelin-starred Barn perfect just the way it is
FAULTLESS; free from defect or error.
That’s the word I used when people asked me how my meal at The Barn at Moor Hall was.
Over the years, I’ve tentatively stuck my foot into the fine dining whirlpool and can safely say most of my initial fears have vanished.
But The Barn, in Aughton, is the first one to give me a complete experience, from the food to the minute service details, that sets it apart from the rest and in turn, makes it so very deserving of its first Michelin Star.
It was by hopeful coincidence that I booked a table for the dinner service on the day of the 2022 Michelin Guide announcements.
Note: This only further exasperated my inner dread that my mobile phone pictures of the food were not going to do it justice.
The Barn is a beautiful converted barn, set in the vast grounds of its big sister restaurant, the two Michelin-Starred Moor Hall.
It looks even more magnificent at night, with the slight moonlit glimmer from the lake and the spotlights creating dramatic shadows and creeping between the grooves of the intricate brickwork.
A stylish white grand piano lurks behind the smartly-dressed host, who greeted us with a warm smile.
The restaurant is upstairs and underneath gorgeous open beams, open brickwork along one side and a wood-finished bar on the other; the teal blue leather seats complement the simple, rustic aesthetic.
The open kitchen is tucked away in the back corner, but visible enough for you to get mesmerised by the chefs, guided by head chef Nathan Cornwell, at work.
We were served by a number of staff during our three-course meal, but waiter Ross was the most regular visitor to our table, happily, freely and thoroughly answering any questions we had about the menu. It never felt like he was just reeling off memorised spiel.
His knowledge of the dishes, the genuine and passionate way he described them and where the ingredients were grown was infectious and if the food was not so irresistible, I could have listened to him talk about it all night.
At one point, I ordered an apple soda drink and was fascinated to hear Ross tell me that the apple cordial was made from scratch onsite using apple cider vinegar and was one of the many results of having time to plan new, inventive ideas during lockdowns.
We also heeded Ross’ by-theglass wine recommendation (Domaine Perrin Pinot Noir and Sebastien Valliant Valenay) and also tried Moor Hall Handyman IPA.
It was one of the many little nuggets of information Ross gave us, which delightfully punctuated our experience.
I had barely taken two sips of my water and it was refilled, everything was immaculately clean and pristine, including the staff.
Now, onto one of the best culinary journeys I expect I will ever go on.
Every dish was poetry on a plate, just beautifully crafted through a myriad of textures and complex cooking.
We ordered the pigs head with smoked eel (£12) and beef tartare (£14) to start, which followed the complimentary snacks (salami and neck charcuterie and a trout tart on wheat cracker) and Amuse Bouche (butternut squash veloute topped with seeds) and freshly-baked sourdough foccacia.
The charcuterie meat was lean and flavoursome while the tart was sharp and soft; the veloute was light and creamy but the ultimate star here was the glorious thickcrust bread, which was served warm and with fluffy, herby butter.
The technique and finesse used to create every dish was abundant, but the thinking behind using crackling running through the braised pig’s head was a standout, giving it a stronger flavour and smoky is certainly how I’d describe the eel and the picked shallot gave it that extra zip.
I did not expect to think of a bouquet of flowers when I ordered the tartare, with the bright pink meat nestled underneath a multi-coloured selection of crisps, nasturthium, Jerusalem artichoke and leaves. The flavours popped as boldly as the colours.
I went for the cod (£24) while our second main was the Aynhoe Estate venison (£26).
Ross had informed me that the bacon crumb-topped fish would be “translucent” and it was when you cut into it, wonderfully so, it was soft and flaked away, falling into the sauce, which was bustling with bacon cubes and mellow smoked onion and slightly harsher charred leek.
The venison was cooked to perfection with the confit parsnips, chanterelles and red cabbage ideal supporting acts.
However, the venison sausage venison sausage ball with a cute Rosemary sprig sticking out was sold to us as the understudy act, and although it was, we would not have been disappointed to see it as a headline stand-in.
I’m happy we were tempted by the extra sides as the winter truffle mash (£6) was smooth and creamy with just a hint of potentially overbearing, dominant truffle and the organic carrot selection (£5), which were grown in Moor Hall’s own garden.
For dessert, the unusual Japanese delicacy Valrhona Namelaka (£9) with brown butter a and malted barley ice cream was a cross between a chocolate mouse and double cream. There were no air bubbles but it was thick and drip-free, it was rich but not overly. Honestly, it was absolutely delicious.
Finally, we had the Barn’s interpretation of French custardy, pastry favourite, a caramelised apple mille feuille with a walnut crumble and vanilla ice cream (£11).
It was sweet and flaky and light and nutty and chocolatey and crunchy and velvety - everything a dessert should be.
In awarding The Barn its first star, Michelin described it as Moor Hall’s “informal little sister” while Ross echoed this by describing it as more “relaxed” than its big sister.
And that is exactly why I loved it so much, because I was comfortable and it made me feel like I deserved to be there while also treating me to my first-ever Michelin-starred meal.
I know, my friend Ross assured me that it wouldn’t, but please don’t let that star change you, The Barn, as you’re perfect just the way you are.