Kent restaurant guide: The West House, Biddenden, Kent

By Zoe Williams in Kent 700AM GMT twelve March 2010

The West House, Biddenden, Kent

The West House, 228 High Street, Biddenden, Kent (01580 291341)

Three courses �35 Stella rating 7.5/10

London grill guide Dinings Crunch lunch Sanminis, Ramsbottom Gilpin Lodge, Cumbria The Camellia, Horsham, West Sussex London grill guide Manson, London SW6 Crunch lunch Chewton Glen

Biddenden is well known for the cider, together with a special haven with an startling thirteen per cent ABV. Is it juvenile of me to be tender by that? When I visited the West House, a in vogue place that has warranted a Michelin star underneath the protection of Graham Garrett, a protg of Richard Corrigan, it had been pang cancellations (it was unequivocally snow white when I went, Im not kidding). It has a charming, beamed, artless interior and I didnt mind the being quiet; it matched it.

My crony S and I had the weeks cocktail, prosecco and rosehip (�5). It tasted only similar to Diamond White. It was strange, as if marry slipped by a portal in to an part of Minder. There arrived a small smashing bread, with a seasoning of churned pig dripping. S suggested that hed outlayed his studenthood going from grocer to grocer (this was in Sheffield), taste-testing their dripping. Ive never had a some-more serendipitous compare of messenger and fat product. The total thing was delicious, similar to bacon reincarnated as squirty thickk cream poetic but weird, that is only what Id contend about my starter, marinated foie gras with caramel pineapple, honeyed booze preserve and sesame break (its 3 courses for �25 at lunchtime, �35 in the evening). The foie gras had been grated I can usually suppose as an economy so that it fluffed up similar to a cloud. It was still juicy but it was additionally flattering sparing. The caramel ripened offspring was unequivocally good; it worked well opposite the liver. And the preserve was juicy though incredibly alcoholic. The sesame break was only what it pronounced on the tin, that greatly honeyed but annoyingly estimable "treat you give to young kids who arent authorised correct treats, sitting there in outrageous shards, adventurous the rest of the mixture to mount up to it, that nothing of them could. I accomplished up shovelling it in to my mouth on the own (well, come on, it competence be bizarre but the still a treat). S had the comfortable haddock carpaccio with bacon dressing, preserved stone samphire and pea shoots, and this was lovely, far some-more predictable. If I had one small niggle it would be that the samphire had been somewhat aggressively pickled. He one after another with the star of the show boiled pigs head, fry pig belly, twice-cooked steep egg, and an anchovy and hop vinaigrette. For the pigs head design a spam fritter, afterwards have the beef unequivocally grand rich, but still a bit filthy and street. Profoundly piggy. The belly was a calm cube, densely flavoured. The egg was, well, an egg. If I had been forced to theory I would have pronounced it had been poached first, afterwards flashed in to a frying-pan. There was not a thing out of place, not an part blank or overdone. This is, in short, what you come to a grill for; tastiness is all unequivocally well, but you would never get this caring and effort, this precision, at home. Unless you had OCD.

I had the wild drum with wild mushrooms, parsley-root pristine (perched on tip of a small beautifully destroyed skin, similar to a pat of immature butter, it felt endearingly 1980s) and a poetic small foraged part whose name I forgot to ask; it looked similar to a teeny-weeny cactus and tasted of… well, it only tasted green, if Im honest.

I accomplished with "All the Fun of the Fair, that I dont think Im being astray in job a disaster, though may be Im not unequivocally fun. A big play arrived with candyfloss floating unphotogenically over the top. That was OK. Underneath was a toffee-apple panna cotta, that had the hardness of Angel Delight and a ambience that was sort of sweet, but was dominated by an irregular tartness.

A popcorn shot on the side was horrid. S had the treacle tart, that was all beautiful. Some branch ginger livened it up a bit but didnt dominate; a mascarpone and orange sorbet on the side was lovely. So, especially wonderful, partly uncanny not a undiluted ratio, but not bad.

THE CORRIGAN KIDS

Balzac 35 Dawson Street, Dublin (00 353 1 677 4444)

After operative with Richard Corrigan for 7 years in London, Malcolm Starmer returned to Ireland to run this brasserie. Roast scallops come with crispy pig belly, cauliflower pristine and Moroccan apple salad (€25 for 3 courses)

Tom Ilic 123 Queenstown Road, London SW8 (020 7622 0555)

Tom Ilic, a Corrigan cook in the 1990s, creates up for a plain-jane dining-room with his imaginative, great-value dishes. Three cuts of lamb, together with pressed and rolled saddle, come with spiced aubergine (�15.50)

The Bull & Last 168 Highgate Road, London NW5 (020 7267 3641)

Ollie Pudney champions simple, robust food, à la Corrigan, at his community gastropub. He cures the beef for the every day charcuterie house and serves ox cheeks with parsley risotto and bone pith (�16.50)