Notesfromthekitchen

Two golden bread rolls with cracked crusts on a dark surface — Written at the pass, after service

Kitchen notes

What came in, what went on the fire and what we got wrong before we got it right. Written by the cooks after service.

Grilled sardines with lemon halves in a dark iron pan

This week's note

Sardines and the last warm week

The boat came in on Tuesday with more sardines than it could sell, so they went on the grate whole, a dozen at a time, and onto bread that had been in the oven an hour before.

Sardines want the hottest coals and almost no time: thirty seconds a side, until the skin blisters and lifts. We salt them twenty minutes before, not more, and keep the lemon on the grate beside them so it comes off charred and soft.

They were on for four nights. By Saturday the water had turned and the boat brought mackerel instead, so the bread stayed and the fish changed. That is most weeks here.

From the pass, late October

Recent notes

From the kitchen

Short notes written after service by whoever was on the fire. Sample entries; replace them with your own kitchen's notes.

Opened oysters on ice with lime wedges around a small bowl of sauce

November, the cold months

Oysters, barely warmed

Thirty seconds on the grate, shell side down, until the lid lifts. Any longer and they turn. We serve them with seaweed butter and nothing else.

Basket of fresh wild ceps on a bed of moss

October, from the larder

The first ceps come in muddy

Our forager brings them wrapped in paper and we leave the soil on until the last minute. They go on the rack above the embers whole, then into foaming butter.

Round loaf with a crackled, flour-dusted crust on a dark board

Every morning, the oven

Bread in the falling heat

The oven at the end of the hearth is swept at nine and the dough goes in as the flames die back. By service the crust has cracked and the crumb is still warm.

Close view of glowing red embers and charred logs

Every evening, at half past five

Raking the embers for service

The fire is split into four before the first guest arrives: open flame, a bed of coals, the smoke racks and the ash. It takes two cooks and ten quiet minutes.

Ripe green and purple figs in a white bowl against a dark background

September, a mistake

Figs, one minute too long

We tried grilling figs straight over the coals and lost a crate. Now they sit on the iron at the edge of the embers, cut side down, and come off when the honey bubbles.

Glass of amber spirit over ice on a wooden coaster in a dark room

Winter, from the bar

A smoked old fashioned, slowly

We burn a strip of orange peel at the hearth and close it in the glass with the drink for a minute. The smoke stays on the rim, not in your coat.

The fire log

One line a day

Kept on a clipboard by the hearth. The last six entries, copied out.

Sat 26 Oct
First frost on the gardens. Leeks are sweeter for it; they go on the flame tonight.
Thu 24 Oct
The boat stayed in. Mackerel off the menu, mushrooms on twice.
Sun 20 Oct
Lamb under the bell for Sunday lunch. Lifted at three, gone by four.
Wed 16 Oct
New load of birch from the coppice, split and stacked behind the kitchen.
Sat 12 Oct
Quince season starts. The first tray went into the ash after service.
Fri 4 Oct
Relit the oven after a crack in the floor. Bread back by lunchtime.

Candle glowing on a dark table in the dining room

Bookings

A table by the fire

Tables open sixty days ahead, at noon. Book online or call the pass, and tell us about allergies when you book so the kitchen can plan the fire around you.

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(555) 010-0148

Walk-ins
Four seats at the hearth counter are kept back every night.
Seven or more
Larger groups dine in the Long Room. Write to events@example.com.
Changes
Call from 2 pm on the day. We hold a table for fifteen minutes.