CityLife

Church Green

IT must be the first time I’ve prepared a dish from the chef’s cookbook before going to review the pub he is running. Perhaps it was the sheer chutzpah of combining scallops, white truffles, white chocolate buttons and nasturtium leaves in one sloppy risotto that tempted me.

Surely the regulars at this prominent Cheshire roadhouse wouldn’t be stumping up for such Michelin-fancy fare?
 

Half-price in Waterstone’s sale, Aiden Byrne’s Made In Great Britain put me off somewhat with its strident Union Jack inside front and back covers.
 

At a time of industrial unrest over jobs and imported labour I’m wary of anything screaming Little Englander. On the other hand, the resurgence of our native ingredients is a source for pride, which is Byrne’s manifesto.

Exotic yen

It’s just that the youngest Englishman to gain a Michelin star (at Adlards in Norwich at just 22) has an exotic yen for unusual and surprisingly harmonious juxtapositions.
 

I was heartened by the presence in the book of bison grass, introduced to the chef by a Polish friend. Surely it brought a pan-European sensibility to the baking of the venison. Beetroot and fig purees, chicken stock, bitter chocolate and filo pastry also came into the equation.
 

There’s no Polish shop near us and the cut of venison in the freezer is the wrong one, so I made that risotto, instead substituting white truffle butter and leaving out the nasturtium.
 

Upped sticks

Following the tenets of Heston Blumenthal of contrasting salt with sweet, damn good the dish was, too. And then we drove down the A56 to its creator’s new venture.
 

If you think Alison Seagrave’s recent decision to quit Harvey Nichols and open a patisserie was bold, imagine the shockwaves at London’s swanky Dorchester Hotel, when the man responsible for turning its lacklustre Grill into a destination restaurant upped sticks to a PUB in the sticks (OK, quite posh sticks).
 

Now after several months’ working his notice, he’s at the stove in the large and not unattractive hostelry on Higher Lane that has obviously seen better days.
 

Actually, on the Friday evening we were there he wasn’t cooking. It was his day off. That always sends shivers down me because the absence of the main man in small-scale ventures reveals the shortcomings of the brigade.
 

Swiftly-offered bread

Not here. He may have kept much of the front of house staff from its pubbier days, but he has brought in a first-rate kitchen squad, which was obvious from the quality of the swiftly-offered bread.
 

First impressions are important and the Church Green is obviously a work in progress. The open-plan front room shouts place for drinking, though the choice of cask ale appeared to be very average, Deuchars the pick.
 

We were ushered into a conservatory tacked on the side – a little PVC windows showcase. Our charming young waitress had to run off to the bar to ascertain whether they could rustle up a Kir (they could).

‘‘She reacted like I’d demanded Mongoose milk,” chuckled lovely but wrinkly companion, Aggie Grimshaw. “

Succulent  cherryish fruit

I was driving, since Aggie boasts a blithe unawareness of speedtraps, so there was a kerfuffle, too, over picking a red that wouldn’t knock my block off.

In the end, the Prunatelli Chianti Rufina at £20, from a neatly chosen, moderate wine list, offered 12.5 per cent and some succulent cherryish fruit.
 

The Church Green website menu section gives nothing away, merely stating that it changes according to available, seasonal produce.

Opening the hard copy at table provoked mixed emotions. Nothing screamed Michelin man, but it did whisper balance and accessibility.
 

Gorgeous melting texture

While bizarrely pairing brill with red wine, chicken and pickled cabbage in one dish, it was modest in its apparent ambitions with nary a truffle or bison grass in sight.
 

Still there was loin of venison as a starter (£7), which Aggie nabbed. Tender pink buttons accompanied by a lick of fig puree were quite exquisite.

In contrast, my own confit terrine’s gorgeous melting texture was let down by subdued flavour in both terrine and shallot chutney (£6.50).

Then perfectly-judged mains marked out an outstanding technician who has worked in some seriously classy kitchens, notably as right-hand man of the fanatical Tom Aikens, in Chelsea.
 

Saltmarsh sublime

My roast breast and leg of pheasant (£17.50) was as good as I’ve ever tasted. Pear boulangere (a kind of gratin) and a fibrous parsnip fondant matched it immaculately.
 

Impressed, I told myself slow down, savour each mouthful, don’t waste a soupcon of the gamey jus. “You’re not gobbling as quick as usual, Mr Critic,” noted the acute Aggie, whose similarly priced rump of Cumbrian lamb was equally tender and tasted saltmarsh sublime (not confirmed by the carte). It came with a herby, creamy white bean ragout.
 

Puddings were chalked on a board. Homely in description, but in execution again equally masterful.

Matched prettily

There was a 15-minute wait for my fig and frangipane tart, the pastry puff-meets-tatin, in truth slightly sweet for my palate, but the figs and almonds matched prettily.
 

We couldn’t pin down the flavour of the blob of ice cream that came with Aggie’s sharp lime cheesecake. People watching, we couldn’t quite pin down where the Church Green might go.

Two couples placed in the restaurant bit said they’d come for fish and chips, but they liked the look of the menu so they’d splash out more. Two other tables were neglecting the wine list and accompanying the food with lager and Guinness.
 

Alter perceptions

 It’s a far cry from Tom Aikens, Pied a Terre or the Dorchester.
I wish Aiden and partner Sarah well. Theirs is a welcome arrival on a moribund dining scene.
 

These are early days and any pitch is set against the economic downturn. Also they perhaps have to alter perceptions of the Church Green.
 

I can’t imagine Lymm as some kind of weekend Wild West, but the presence of a large bloke resembling a bouncer on the door as we left sent out odd signals.
 

“We’re out on a Lymm here, chuck,” said Aggie, settling for a Chianti snooze in the front passenger seat.
 

Church Green, Higher Lane, Lymm WA13 0AP (01925 752 068),

‘You’d think they haven’t a Kir in the world!’’

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