Give me emulsified deep joy!
Mark C O’Flaherty is wowed by the artistry at a West Midlands hotel that has become a gourmet sensation
I understand the obsession with William Morris, but he’s not for me. In a parallel life, I would own a Georgian money pit and have peacocks, dragons and strawberry thieves covering every wall and woven into all my upholstery. But I don’t have that parallel life, so I can only enjoy the work of the arts and crafts pioneer when I’m visiting friends with a taste for high chintz, or at a hotel.
Hampton Manor is one of those hotels – a mid 19th-century neo-gothic mansion restored via deep pockets to feel lavishly modern, while retaining all its original features, from stained glass to a staircase that screams murder mystery weekend. Since it was developed as a hotel in 2010, it has taken on various lives of its own. There’s the main Manor, with a cocktail menu inspired by Morris and his botanical imagery, and an offshoot restaurant next to it called Smoke, where dishes are cooked over coal within the old furnace house of the historic walled garden.
A few weeks ago, Grace & Savour opened, a standalone restaurant with five bedrooms in what was once a timber yard. While I can’t embrace William Morris, Grace & Savour is right up my street. Its stark but warm wood-onwood interior is so 2020s, and how I want my life to look right now.
Grace & Savour is based around the work of chef David Taylor and his cohost and wife Anette. Formerly on the team that took Maaemo in Oslo from two to three Michelin stars, Taylor has immersed himself in the local agriculture, working with farmers to develop the most flavourful, rather than photogenic or symmetrical, produce. When you check in, you get a tour of the walled garden and a crash course in what’s for dinner. This is, as you may have guessed, serious tasting menuonly territory, but I was drawn more to the surface than the substance: the interiors here are absurdly beautiful.
Creative director Fjona Hill has worked with a handful of independent UK-based carpenters, concrete sculptors and ceramicists to put together a space, and a set of bedrooms, that are close to my idea of visual perfection. From Sophie Sellu’s hand-carved vases to Josh Kennard and Oliver Milne’s sculptural coffee table, with an undulating
I was drawn more to the surface than the substance: the interiors are absurdly beautiful
surface reminiscent of topographical maps and a set of tactile wooden balls on top, everything is fresh, appealing and inviting to touch.
I spent a while labouring over what I didn’t love. Some of the bowls at dinner felt, literally, a touch overwrought – nicer to look at than use – and while I nearly bought some a while back, I’ve reached saturation point with patinated, elongated, ivy-green bathroom tiles. Also, I like to see bathroom doors in hotel rooms. And hear them close. And hear nothing from that moment on. There weren’t any in my bedroom.
But dinner is, of course, the point here. Or at least the reason why all this handsome stuff was put together in the first place. David Taylor and his team have gone way beyond the realm of foams and theatre, but every dish has still been engineered, studied and, I imagine, reworked a million times.
There were plates that made me think “that’s perfectly nice”, others that made me feel blessed to have taste buds. Things start simply but set the scene for the next three hours: two stems of carrot, juiced, caramelised, and served back with their nectar. It’s something simple, made difficult, and worth it. Highlights include a Jerusalem artichoke dish that involves the flesh being scooped out, the skin being deep fried, and the original, now puréed contents, being put back in place with bay leaf pickle. The juxtaposition of textures, of crunch and fondant, is sensational. The very best dishes for me were seafood bites: red prawns cooked with a sauce made from their shells, so rich the taste was close to brown crab meat. Then a hake dish, with mussels, pumpkin pickle and buttered sprouts; emulsified deep joy.
I eventually worked out why so many things at Grace & Savour were so good: the unifying element was butter. Lots and lots and lots of it. Chef Taylor says that, though they have tried, they can’t accommodate you if milk protein is a hazard to your health. But as someone on the highest daily dose of statins, with a habit of putting more butter on the knife than there is bread to spread it on, I felt very much at home.
Rooms from £360 per person, including dinner and breakfast. There is one fully accessible bedroom