Kearton Country Hotel, Thwaite, Swaledale (From Darlington and Stockton Times)

Kearton Country Hotel, Thwaite, Swaledale

12:11pm Friday 29th May 2009

• Print
• Email
• Share
• Comments(0)

Best value at top end of the dale.

LATE spring, early summer and Swaledale beckons. It’s festival time and the opening night reception in the beautiful garden of Hudson House in Reeth.

The many good folk who organise this tremendous arts event are in good form: the festival is set to break-even in defiance of the credit crunch.

Foregoing the later delights of the Leeds Baroque Choir in St Andrew’s, Grinton, we have to love and leave in the interests of filling this page. We head further up the dale on a beautiful evening, with the occasional glimpses of the Swale sparkling in the sunshine and the smell of wild garlic filling the car.

Then we encountered what meteorologists like to call a “weather event”, but not untypical of the upper Pennines.

In a matter of seconds, somewhere between Gunnerside and Thwaite, the bright blue sky became almost as dark as night, the thermometer dropped about five degrees and it looked as if Armageddon was upon us.

By the time we pulled up in the car park of the Kearton Country Hotel, the surrounding tops were disappearing into a swirling mass of blackgrey clouds. It wasn’t raining but it was surely about to.

The hotel, stone-built and bang in the centre of the village, was very welcoming.

Owner Ian Danton, who looks rather professorial, ushered us into a cosy bar with a rather more expansive lounge adjacent. The atmosphere is what one would expect a country hotel to be – essentially traditional (beams, white walls, bits of exposed stonework), but there’s also been some updating of the furniture and furnishings to give it a more contemporary look.

The menu was a similar blend of the old and new.

There was nowt too fancy, but it was also clear that chef Leigh Danton (son of owners) has tuned in to the welcome fashion of using seasonal local produce, and to call a spade a spade. It gave indescribable pleasure to see the Swaledale lamb shank served in a rosemary, garlic and red wine “gravy”. Hurrah, no “jus” – and only £10.25.

Those of you familiar with this column will perhaps be aware for Sylvia’s fondness for lamb. This affection is never dulled by passing fields of the gambolling things; indeed it seems to be intensified.

Given that we had spent the past half-hour going “ahh” at dozens of them (some approaching freezer-size, we thought), it was no surprise this was her choice. It was a good one, the sizeable shank was deemed to be “lambiest lamb” she had tasted in a long time.

Prior to this, she had also enjoyed her prawn cocktail (£3.65) although points were lost for the silly sundae serving glass (difficult to get to the bits at the bottom), the tiddly packet butter with the granary roll and paper napkins.

My starter, king prawn and Mascarpone cheese mousse, wrapped in a smoked trout fillet and topped with a Yorkshire tomato chutney, served with dressed leaves (£3.95) was smooth and light, the tomato chutney being most appealingly tangy.

I had been tempted by a reference to the “crispiest crackling” in the menu description for roasted loin of pork (£9.75). It lived up to its billing, despite being almost submerged in the accompanying very rich port sauce.

The pork, while perhaps not the porkiest pork I’ve ever eaten, was very tender and moist.

Side vegetables of new potatoes, carrots and broccoli were well prepared. They also included some creamed cabbage flavoured with what looked like a French grain mustard which was not to Sylvia’s taste but I thought rather good.

I finished with a creme brulee (£3.50). A fine custard was spoilt slightly by the caramelised sugar topping being prepared too far in advance and softened by the custard beneath as a result.

Service was generally very good. It was a busy bank holiday weekend for the hotel and the restaurant was full.

We did wait a little while for our main courses but not overly so. The kitchen was happy to accommodate Sylvia’s request for her lamb shank to be served without the mashed potato and nothing seemed to be too much trouble.

I also liked the bill. £45, almost £10 of which was for drinks, seemed like a pittance for a meal, which, while not perfect, was of a high standard and served in fine surroundings.

We noted that had not Armageddon been looming outside, there would have been a fine view of the surrounding hills from many of the tables in the dining room.

• Print
• Email
• Share
• Comments(0)