Heads I win, tails you Lewes

TABLE FOR TWO You’ll flip for dessert, says Kathryn Flett, but the ultimate eating experience this ain’t LIMETREE KITCHEN £ 90 6/ 10

On a fairly regular basis, I’m asked how I choose my restaurants. Well, last week I balanced a 10p piece on my thumbnail.

Heads: Lewes. Pretty town with a castle, next to a river ( the Ouse); bit hilly; nearest beach (Saltdean) 10 miles; notorious/ famous for its bonfire night parade, described in one national paper recently, as “noisy, smelly… and some people find the robust attitude expressed in the effigies” – Assad and Kim Jong-un in 2013, Putin in 2014, numerous Trumps in 2016 – “a bit disturbing”; referendum vote 52 per cent Remain; MP, Maria Caulfield (Con); Fifth Best restaurant on Trip Advisor – Limetree Kitchen.

Tails: Totnes. Pretty town with a castle, next to a river (the Dart); bit hilly; nearest beach ( Paignton) six miles; notorious/famous for its ( Wiki) “sizeable alternative and New Age community”; bonkers bonfirenight shenanigans include the “tradition” of carrying burning barrels of tar through the streets; referendum vote 52.9 per cent Remain; MP, Sarah Wollaston (Con); Fifth Best Restaurant on Tripadvisor – Woods Bistro.

Tough call, so I consulted the Oracle, aka the AA Routeplanner. Tails: a 500-mile, nine-hour roundtrip drive from home; heads: a 58mile, 100-minute round-trip drive. Plus, on the afternoon I planned to go, my youngest son was captaining a school football match a mere eight miles away. Heads it clearly was.

Lewes is a town of grand designs. The birthplace of the original Bill’s long before it became a boring and ubiquitous chain. Unlike many towns, Lewes also has plenty of people below retirement age visible on its streets: the demographically modern – and, dare I say it, comfortably middle class – presence on my visit included ( but was not limited to) lone bearded men pushing baby buggies, gender-fluid creatives carrying coffees, thirtysomethings toting vinyl LP cases and women in Breton stripes texting-and-strolling. It exudes smugness in extremis.

Reflecting this, Limetree Kitchen is confident and slightly pleased with itself. “NO FRILLS… NO GIMMICKS… JUST FANTASTIC FOOD,” shouts the sell on its website, which also has a page titled Our Story: “[our] pledge is to produce exceptional dishes, created from only the very finest quality ingredients… Our ethos is simple, to guarantee customers the ultimate eating experience in a relaxed and informal setting.” This excited me. What with its pledges and its “exceptional dishes”, “finest quality ingredients” and “ultimate eating experience”, what restaurant writer wouldn’t be enthused by the prospect of stumbling across the reincarnation of, say, Paul Bocuse lurking in a little tongue-and-groovy joint in East Sussex. Lewes – the new Lyon!

I have noted hyperbolic self-satisfaction is a particular affliction of generation millennial – and their restaurants. I blame this on the everyone’s-a-winner culture fostered by primary school sports days, when the “if-life-givesyou-lemons…” aphorism is taken to its logical conclusion: “If life gives you last place in the eggand-spoon race, make an omelette.”

Limetree Kitchen is next Tongue and groovy: above, salt baked coliflower with romesco and herb oil; and below, lemon and yoghurt semifreddo, rose petal marshmallow, meringue, pistachio, sherbet and lemon curd, at Limetree Kitchen door to its own deli. It’s a simply decorated room (pictures aren’t up to date on the website; the walls are now elephantine-grey) with an outdoor terrace. It was on the cusp of chilly when we arrived and only warmed up as the kitchen kicked in. Service was easygoing, warm and a bit millennial. The blackboard menu was sizeable and, of course, all about the sharing plates.

So: cauliflower pakoras and “tandoori yogurt”, crispy baby squid and sweet chilli dip for starters. Fragrant Thai whole roasted sea bass, lemongrass, ginger, Thai basil for me (plus a side of chips); rump steak, rocket and Parmesan salad and fries for the bloke. A drivers’ tomato juice for me, small glass of cab-sauv for him. Somehow, afterwards, I felt I could also cope with a chocolate assiette while my lunch date opted for the goat’s milk and maple panna cotta with espresso granita. All in all, an insane amount of food for an ordinary, non-celebratory Wednesday lunch – yes, even for a critic.

Generously (pro)portioned, it was all… just fine. The squid batter was a bit anaemic, though not oozy-oily, either. The date’s steak was gone before I’d even clocked it (“all good here”). My low point was a bass which, while nicely cooked, was about as “fragrant Thai” as am I. When he asked how everything was, I called the waiter out on this: “Not very Thai!” He smiled and shrugged. It had been brushed with a few spices before roasting, apparently – flavours which were long gone by the time it hit my plate. “I love it!” he added, as if that might swing it for me. The assiette was excellent. However, my guest was underwhelmed by his panna cotta, though I thought it pretty and proficient.

I’m quietly confident that no effigies of restaurant writers are scheduled to be barbecued on East Sussex bonfires this autumn. So here’s the verdict: Limetree Kitchen is a good if slightlytoo-expensive local restaurant, and if I lived around its corner I’d be pleased it existed. But “ultimate eating experience”? I’m not sure it’d be the ultimate eating experience in Lewes.

Finally, despite arriving at the venue for my son’s game just as they were tucking into the match tea, at least it was a 4-0 victory I hadn’t had to drive 500 miles in order to miss. And later, with our collective boots still filled, we had no need of dinner. Result.