As my fellow passengers endeavoured unsuccessfully to kick open windows, all I could think about, in the style of Captain Anson in ‘Ice Cold in Alex’, was a double Tanqueray, tonic and lime (writes Douglas Blyde). The 14:05 London to Brockenhurst had, as I much later discovered, smacked into a burning mattress. But rather than petty vandalism, many people suspected terrorism.

The sudden stop, belching black smoke and lack of announcements meant that those at the front of the train clambered to the back; others even fled, screaming, onto the track. But panic, as I found, soon segues into boredom, and by the time the train eventually inched forwards, calm had been restored.

My destination for the juniper tranquilliser was ‘The Montagu Arms’, a wooden-beamed haven in the New Forest (Hampshire, UK) smelling of home-dried pot pourri, fresh afternoon teas and parquet polish.  To salve the final remnants of nerves, Phil the manager prescribed scones shaped as pouffes and leafy Earl Grey beside the pleasantly piddling fountain. In our midst, a couple celebrated their golden wedding anniversary with 80 friends. Apparently they’d marked ruby on the same spot ten years before.

Digging for victory

I had dislodged from London to this county of roaming ponies to meet head chef, Matthew Tomkinson, Roux scholar and holder of a Michelin star. After swapping bracing handshakes, we ventured to inspect his latest project. Within a microclimate of ancient looking walls, an extensive vegetable and herb garden extends its leafy roots and shoots in an area that was fallow a year ago.

"Considering the long, cruel winter we had, I thought it was game over," said Tomkinson as we surveyed the healthy plants. Where unkempt conifers once loomed are rhubarb and courgettes and lemon balm. Beside an elderly damson, poly-tunnels of a sweetly fragranced ‘tomato jungle’ are peppered, as a pre-mixed recipe, by wafts of horseradish. Tomkinson identified tall plants which resembled decapitated sunflowers as Jerusalem artichokes. "I’d never seen one before these grew," he said.



A little uphill, plucky and apparently productive hens swerved towards us in a confident gang, quirkily protected from predators by an electric fence. Coddled at breakfast alongside home-smoked haddock, their large eggs with molten golden yokes proved succulently sweet and sticky.

Overall, it was hard to conceive that this lush project was barely months old. "We’ve had at least four visits from other restaurateurs who have come for inspiration," said Tomkinson.

Local sourcing, local saucing

Furthering the hotel’s ethos to source as local as possible, fish and shellfish is landed in Lymington, with the occasional catch coming from the private Beaulieu estate opposite. Amongst others, Sunnyfields organic farm provides the fodder which Tomkinson can’t grow, with Hilltop farm providing Angus beef. And for game, the New Forest is an enviable larder.

Surprisingly, Matthew Tomkinson came late to food, completing a business management degree before starting his culinary career in a vegetarian restaurant in Altrincham. He went on to become Head Chef at the Michelin starred ‘Goose’ in Oxfordshire, briefly infamous (after his tenure) for the owner’s decision to scrap ‘poncy’ Michelin food in favour of pub staples like burgers. Such unilateral action had the probably intended result of stirring the brigade into leaving.

As we retraced our steps past a recently abandoned croquet set, Tomkinson pointed out a former bakery which he intends to convert into a meat hanging locker. "I recently butchered a whole Aberdeen Angus," he said, adding, with relish, "it was a big boy, but we had hardly any wastage. It taught me how hanging meat properly really adds to the flavour."

Michelin soil

But talking food isn’t quite the same as eating it. That night, after realising the dream of the gin and tonic, I dined at the more formal of the hotel’s two restaurants. The gently lit, deeply carpeted, oak panelled Terrace is adorned with artichoke finials, contrasting the lively ‘Monty’s’ pub next-door.

After a small, fennel riddled bun (a welcome sign that chef wouldn’t stuff us with bread so as to later skimp on portions), a bright cucumber and horseradish velouté with home smoked organic salmon and avruga was finished at table. From a list largely supplied by ‘Enotria’, pure-tasting Alsatian Pinot Blanc from Trimbach scythed through.

This was followed by a perfectly roast crown of Landes pigeon with a sweetly spiced samosa of crispy leg meat, slow cooked small onions and soft, pill-like sage gnocchi. Supple, mossy red Bordeaux - Château Lassegue Grand Cru 2000 – aided digestion with a blanket of bitter chocolate-like tannins.

Via a cheese course I was introduced to ripe ‘Little Black Bomber’, a moist, granular cannonball-shaped Cheddar bound in wax, which tasted of buttered toastie.

Providing the meal’s climax, a warm pistachio sponge with rhubarb two ways, sorbet and compote, lined the plate, drizzled with unbeatable vanilla custard.

Whilst portions were ample, I never felt overwhelmed. Retiring to my four poster bed, curtains had been drawn, the duvet rolled back and even a little sleep mist spray placed on the pillow. As I drifted towards dawn, the hectic train journey seemed another lifetime ago...

About the author

Described by Jay Rayner as ‘endearingly overwrought’, Douglas Blyde is a freelance food, wine and travel writer, ‘society sommelier’, consultant and gastro guide. He is working towards owning his own boutique hotel, restaurant, vineyard and chocolate factory.

His work may be found at www.intoxicatingprose.com.