Jade Wright samples Sunday lunch at Marco Pierre White’s new eaterie, The Swan Inn, at Aughton
WHEN I heard that Marco Pierre White was opening up a restaurant nearby, I’ll admit I was excited. For all the region’s food producing credentials, our celebrity chefs are somewhat thin on the ground.
So to have the devil in the kitchen plying his trade in Aughton seemed too good to be true.
So I waited, and I waited. And eventually The Swan Inn re-opened, with Marco at the helm.
Admittedly, he’s not hands on in the kitchen, but he’s designed the menu, and the place has his special stamp of approval.
Anywhere that the fiery chef will put his name to has to be something special, or so I hoped.
But would my meal be a sizzling affair, or would average food and sky- high prices leave a nasty taste in my mouth?
There was only one way to find out.
I headed out for Sunday lunch to see for myself. As we drew up in the car park, Marco’s name was everywhere. He may not be in the kitchen, but he’s certainly on the hoardings, and the menu, and the walls.
We had booked for 2pm, and I was surprised to be one of the few diners in there.
But as we ordered our drinks – a pint of Peroni (£3.50) and a bottle of sparkling water (£1.50 ) – I quickly realised why that might be. Unless you lived just round the corner or fancied a massive hike home, someone in the party would always have to sacrifice drinking for the pleasure of eating.
This time, I was designated driver. But, after one look at the range of mouthwatering options, I didn’t feel too hard done by.
And as one course is £10, two courses £13.50 and three £17.50, it seemed rude not to go the whole hog.
There was Morecambe Bay Potted Shrimps, Trough of Bowland Rabbit Pie, Roast Loin of Gloucestershire Old Spot Pork, Bramley Apple Sauce, Hesketh Bank Carrots, Purple Sprouting Broccoli, Wellington of Yorkshire Red Leg Partridge... the only thing missing was a vegetarian option.
On the starters menu, there was Jerusalem artichoke soup, and plenty to choose from on the puddings, but not a single non-carnivorous option to be seen. Suddenly, I remembered that moment on Hell’s Kitchen . . . “I don’t feed vegetarians, I won’t cook for them.”
Perplexed, I asked our waiter, expecting the worst. Thankfully, he laughed. Of course they do vegetarian options – would I prefer a wild mushroom risotto or a puff pastry tart with sundried tomatoes?
Relieved, I chose the tart, with the soup to start.
My date, with the full menu at his disposal, opted for potted shrimps for a starter and traditional roast beef with Yorkshire pudding for his main course.
By this point the restaurant was starting to fill up, creating a pleasing buzz. Clearly there are others out there who like good food more than a drink.
The decor is town meets country, with political cartoons dotted around the grey walls, and exposed brickwork alongside modern furniture.
The starter arrived before we’d had chance to pause for breath, delivered with a smile from the friendly staff.
And what a starter it was. The artichoke soup was a divinely velvety broth, retaining the best of the vegetable’s sweet and nutty flavour. Sitting beside it was a doorstep of chewy, moist homemade brown bread, packed with walnuts. It was so good that we immediately ordered another basket full (£1.50) to share.
The shrimps were tiny and packed with flavour, served with crispy toast. Looking around at the starters going to other tables, it was probably the smallest dish on the menu, but, given the massive main course portion that followed, this was a blessing, rather than a shortcoming.
And we were certainly glad we had saved room for our main courses. My tomato tartlet was delicious – flaky pastry, tangy tomatoes and peppery rocket. The staff later told me they’d improvised the recipe, but I’d never have guessed. A dish that good deserves to be on the main menu.
The roast beef was, to put it simply, enormous. A huge helping of meat, served pink, adorned with roast potatoes, mashed potatoes, baby carrots and green beans.
There was a small grumble that there was no gravy with the roast, the meat was juicy enough but there was nothing for the Yorkshire pudding.
But given the quality of our meals – and the unexpectedly reasonable prices – we had nothing that would make a real whinge.
Except, maybe that choosing a pudding was almost impossible. Asking a sweet tooth like me to choose between Cambridge Burnt Cream, Box Tree Eton Mess Sticky Toffee Pudding and lemon syllabub is verging on cruelty.
My cheese-obsessed companion had no problem at all, and opted for Marco’s selection of Lancashire Cheeses with quince jelly.
We ordered a couple of coffees (£2.50) to go with our final courses and prepared for another treat.
Like the other courses, our puds arrived super quickly.
My syllabub was heaven in a dish – soft, creamy and deliciously tangy.
But it was the cheese that was the real star. The plate arrived packed with big slabs of Mrs Kirkham’s Lancashire and white Blacksticks blue, served with a tall stack of different Jacob’s crackers, quince jelly, and what we could only deduce were grapes pickled in vinegar.
The blacksticks blue atop a digestive cracker was a taste sensation, reminding us just how good our local produce is.
The only disappointment was the coffee. Halfway through our puddings, we enquired on its progress. We were assured it was on its way. A quarter of an hour afterwards, when the plates had long been cleared away, we asked again.
The staff were contrite, and fetched it immediately.
Not just two cups, but a whole pot – so, what it lacked in timekeeping, it made up for in quantity.
But that was a tiny grumble about an otherwise faultless meal. The food was excellent, the service a dream.
Forget Hell’s Kitchen. This is culinary heaven.
