There are so many different types of restaurant, so much variety in the ways and manner and styles that we eat out, that sometimes it's amazing we find anything in common about the experience at all. And yet somehow we do, and restaurant critics and food blogs exist because, by and large, if one person enjoys a place there's a pretty good chance another person will enjoy it too. I'm generalising hugely of course, but as much as there exists the concept of a Good Restaurant - and I'm pretty sure there is - then there is value in someone telling you about it.
But I have to be very careful when talking about the Royal Oak at Whatcote, because if I had sat down and written a list of all the things I personally wanted from a lunch out, from the culinary method of the kitchen, through the attitude to sourcing of ingredients, to the style and manner of service, I could hardly have ended up with a more perfect representation on earth than this charming old pub nestled in the Warwickshire countryside. And although it pains me to even consider the idea, perhaps not everyone would fall as madly and deeply in love with the place on first visit than I did.
But honestly, they had me at "hello". On a blackboard on the wall in the dining room at the Royal Oak are listed everything in season, and everything you might expect to see on the menu at some point, a menu that sometimes changes a few times a day based on availability. Crab, crayfish, grouse, lobster, muntjac, quail, rabbit, roebuck, snipe... it's like they reached into my brain and saw all my favourite things to eat and then wrote them down on a piece of paper, and paper, by the way, that is not only recycled and recyclable but literally contains wildflower seeds that you can soak out and grow in your own garden.
After a fresh and summery house aperitif that involved orange and fizz and had a single giant square ice cube in (a presentational flourish I always appreciate in short drinks), the first element of the lunch proper was a shot of roe buck consommé. The Royal Oak receive venison from the hills surrounding the village and break down the animal themselves, meaning they get to use the bones and various other bits to make this incredible broth, beautifully balanced between meaty richness and a slight tang of alcohol, with a thick, glossy texture that coats the lips. It was an absolute joy.
The next two snacks arrived together - a silky duck liver parfait sandwiched between delicate pastry, a prune chutney and a layer of ginger gel studded with herbs. And that was beautiful in every way, but the smoked eel with apple was enough to elicit gasps - inside more exquisitely crafted pastry was a smoked eel and apple sorbet, dissolving in the mouth to release distinct and decadent notes of smoked fish and summer herbs alongside the bright fresh wash of frozen apple. It was, also, miraculously good.
Sweetcorn had been teased into a kind of flower-shaped mousse, filled with some powerful wild mushrooms (with an earthy powdered element I couldn't quite put my finger on but which added another autumnal dimension of flavour) and then bathed in a light butter and sweetcorn (I think) velouté. Presentation at the Royal Oak is, as you can probably tell even from my terrible photos, easily at the multi Michelin-starred level but never at the expense of accessibility or flavour - it surprises and delights, but never shocks or jarrs.
Like every modern British restaurant worth its salt these days, bread and butter is presented as a course unto itself, in order to sufficiently showcase the effort that had gone into the various elements before the rest of the savoury courses arrive and steal the limelight. The bread, a near perfect sphere of supremely airy wholemeal loaf, was the perfect vehicle for the butters, not as filling or as powerfully flavoured as the more usual sourdough, but so light and easy to eat it invited you to load up each mouthful with even more butter than you would normally. The butters, by the way, were a 'normal' deep yellow churn, a salty, rich pork fat version and a goats' cheese, and they were all world class but I think, somewhat predictably, my favourite was the pork fat which had little bits of puffed rind on top.
Incredibly, the main body of the tasting menu had yet to start. That kicked off with this pretty circle of rainbow strips of courgette - pickled and grilled alternatively I think they said - draped over some beautifully cooked slices of roe-buck loin (I think it was) and fluffy curd. There was a lot to love here in every different technique and stunning seasonal ingredient on display, but the star - understandably - was the supremely local venison, which had a dark smoky crust and rich, deep pink gamey interior.
Monkfish tail, dense and meaty, came dusted with pine which was a lovely little combo. With it, a cylinder of roast celeriac topped with crunchy, herby breadcrumbs, a dollop of apple purée with nasturtium oil, and what I think was a chestnut purée. And that was all fantastic. But my God the sauce poured on top - buttery and crabby and bursting with flavour, so complex and light in texture but with an extraordinary depth of flavour - was an absolute masterclass, a reason to make the journey out to Warwickshire on its own. We talked about this sauce all the way on the train home, and I was thinking about it as soon as I woke up the next morning. This was a world-changing crab sauce.
The next course, then, had a lot to live up to, but absolutely did. There was a little slice of roast plum topped with sage, next to a vegetable purée of some kind I couldn't quite put my finger on, but which was silky smooth and full of flavour. There was a dainty little pastry case of immensely rich and gamey offal bound by another masterclass in saucing, studded with more root veg and topped with a generous pile of black truffle. But best of all was a quail breast stuffed with apricot and sage, juicy and packed full of flavour, with a fantastic faintly bitter touch from the sage and a salty, golden brown skin. Like everything else it was beautiful to look at, seasoned perfectly, intelligently constructed and a delight to eat. Absolute heaven.
Even an ostensibly simple cheese course managed to impress in a number of different ways at once. The cheese was a new one to me - Yordale from Curlew Dairy, which was a bit like a more creamy and complex Lancashire, a really good bit of cheesemaking. With it, a dollop of local honey and a golden brown Banbury cake (Banbury being the nearest town, and where you're likely arrive if getting to Whatcote by train), sort of like an elongated Eccles cake, sweetly glazed and addictively crisp. It was paired to great success with a South African port, The Bishop of Norwich 'The Liberator'. Wines at the Royal Oak have a heavy (though not exclusively so) South African lean as Solanche (Craven, Richard Craven is the chef) hails from there, and her enthusiasm for everything she serves is extremely infectious.
I'm sure the Oak wouldn't mind me describing the first dessert - blackcurrant sorbet on top of a clever blackberry leaf mousse - as Roganesque, as it had the same light touch and attention to striking visual detail as anything to come out of the kitchens at l'Enclume. It was a dish that reminded you how good blackberries are when in peak season and treated with supreme skill, and how lucky we are in this country to have them on our doorstep.
Damsons, from a tree just next to the pub, came prettily arranged on a sponge cake which had more damson compote inside. But the star of this dish was something they called Honington hay-brown butter, which I think had been smoked and salted and who knows what else to produce the most amazingly rich brown butter ice cream, the kind of thing I think I could polish off pints of at a time.
You will have noticed I have completely failed to be even the least bit "careful" about my enthusiasm and love for the Royal Oak. From the first sip of glossy venison consommé to the final bite of buttery, warm chocolate ganache (above), this was a meal without fault, made with love by people at the top of their game (no pun intended... or maybe slightly intended), and involving a succession of all of my favourite seasonal British ingredients. But what makes the whole operation even more special is that the nimbleness of the kitchen matched with a tireless effort to find what's good at any given moment means the menu constantly shifts to be the best it can possibly be. You'll notice that even in the time they took to print the menu that morning, guinea fowl had been swapped out for quail, to stunning effect. All of which means any given repeat visit has the chance to be bewilderingly brilliant in a whole new series of ways.
I don't know what else to tell you, other than the Royal Oak is as close to my ideal restaurant that exists in the actual world and that you should make every effort under the sun to go. Oh and if you think rural Warwickshire is a bit inaccessible, my whole journey from Battersea door to door took 2 and a bit hours, and that included a 25 min cab ride (£25 each way) from Banbury. So it's just as enticingly available for a leisurely Saturday lunch out of town than anywhere else outside the M25. Oh, and there's a lovely terrace for good weather. Oh, and the toilets are nice. Oh, and there's a good big space between the tables and there's a "pub bit" with a pool table if you want to linger around afterwards. Oh, and... never mind. Just
go.
10/10
We still need people in hospitality for a bit of market research, paying £100 for an hour of your time if you qualify, all done online. Sign up here!I was invited to the Royal Oak and didn't see a bill, but if you want to do it properly, with tasting menus and matching wines, you're looking at about £220pp. And given everything you get in return, I consider that a bargain.
