» Brace yourself
Andrew Kay discovers that he may be a pheasant plucker at The New Inn in Hurstpierpoint
I have always loved the notion of dining on road kill. Notoriously there is a US diner with the motto ‘Straight From your Grill to Ours’. Many years ago I spent an idyllic evening at the home of Eric Newby and his wonderful wife Vanda. Vanda, a women of some years, had prepared a casserole for dinner made of something she had knocked down a few weeks before and dragged into the boot of her car. It was delicious. After the main course she asked if we would like a salad, we all nodded and before we knew it she had donned wellingtons and an overcoat and headed off into the snow covered garden. She returned, rosy cheeked, with an armful of what some would describe as weeds which she then washed, tossed and dressed with excellent oil and vinegar. Later we had home made chocolate ice-cream. It was a memorable evening in the company of one literary great and one culinary one.
Game of course is reasonably easy to come by in Sussex and pheasants have that kamikaze instinct too, wandering in front of the Skoda with gay abandon. Several did this as I motored out to Hurstpierpoint and The New Inn.
‘‘Game is reasonably easy to come by in Sussex, pheasants have that kamikaze instinct, wandering in front of the Skoda with abandon’’
The New Inn is refreshingly old, restored yes, but with a delicate hand. The look is a bit ‘Farrow & Ball’ but it seems appropriate. It was a chilly day and inside the wood fire was throwing out loads of heat and also that inimitable smell. We lost that for years under the fug of tobacco but now it’s back – hoorah!
I wasted no time in ordering a pint of Harvey’s shandy, I would have loved a pint of pure ale but common sense tells me to keep to the shandy, especially at lunchtime. I placed my food order at the bar and found a dark corner in which to hide.
Now I am a great lover of eating alone. I am happy with my own company, and especially if I have good food to indulge in.
Before long I had a deep bowl of vermillion hued tomato and basil soup with chickpeas. It was rather good and piping hot with just enough pulses lurking in the depths to make it a substantial dish but not too many to spoil me for my main course.
For main I chose pheasant, not because I love pheasant, in fact I don’t much like it. It’s like this; too many times have I been served vile pheasant stew made by smart Chelsea totty, daughter of, or married to, weekend-gun-toting man. How they can manage to make wet stew with breast meat as dry as a witches mammary beggars belief, but believe me they can – almost to a matron. It’s inevitably mined with lead shot too.
Quite often I fail to get to dessert but on this occasion I did and very glad I am too. Panacotta needs trying. It needs to waver between a jelly and a junket. It needs to be delicate, bordering on bland and it doesn’t need messing with. This did the job, wibbled politely, enjoyed its dressing of sweet berries and slipped down a treat. A biscuit on the side took me back to childhood memories of melting moments, crisp rice flour biscuits made by my mum. Ahh, soppy old fool I hear you say.
To say that the New Inn performed well would be understatement but to say more would belittle the fact that this place seems to be set on serving good but delightfully understated food. There’s little pretence, both in the cooking and the charming service – and the prices are earthly rather than astronomical. I managed to park easily too, that was heavenly.
The New Inn, 74-76 High Street, Hurstpierpoint, West Sussex, 01273 834608
