Abbey habit is a mice one to have
WHEN hotelier Paul Statham invites me to push the boat out I need no second bidding. It's a toy sailing boat waiting to go on a cruise around the splendid hip bath in the Mouseman Suite at the Abbey Inn at Byland, tucked away in a fold of North Yorkshire's Hambleton Hills.
Then I pad into the bedroom, flop on the bed and enjoy the view – of mice and monuments.
The mice are carved into furniture made by the firm started by the legendary Robert 'Mousey' Thompson at the village of Kirton just up the road. Paul has stuffed the room full of Mouseyness, bed, cupboards and wardrobe.
The monuments seen through the window are the mournful but magnificent honey-coloured ruins of the Cistercian Byland Abbey just across the road. Lie in bed and you can see right down the nave of the roofless church, bigger than many cathedrals.
It is a stunning sight any time of the day but specially when the sun rises and when floodlit at night.
Thirteenth-century Byland Abbey is owned by English Heritage and so is the Abbey Inn, once a farmhouse, built from some of the Abbey's stones. Don't worry, there are enough left to make exploration well worthwhile.
The ivy-covered inn has only three bedrooms and Paul, who runs the place under lease, has to stick to some tight rules to make sure his Grade II listed business doesn't detract from the Grade I listed ruin. Which means it's a pretty classy place.
We are using the inn as the base for a mini-North Yorkshire gastro-break, because this area is a hotspot for good food in places like The Star at Harome and the Feversham Arms at Helmsley.
But we want to find alternatives. The reason we choose the Abbey as a base is this is the new home for Sheffield chef Wayne Rodgers, a talented chap who has worked at the Nettle Inn, Ashover, Plough at Hathersage, Baslow's Cavendish Hotel and Sheffield's Bluwater.
Although he's only been there a few months Wayne's cooking is already one of the attractions of the Abbey, which has a thriving restaurant in three rooms, one the former piggery.
Wayne's cooking is relaxed enough so you don't feel you're sitting a gastronomic exam but complex enough to keep creating interest.
He lives off the land – literally - sourcing his produce from local suppliers and giving a warm welcome to countryfolk bearing gifts.
"We had a bloke come in with a load of pigeons he'd shot. They were 45p each. Of course we had to pluck and gut them but they made lovely starters.."
Everything is made on the premises – no small task for a brigade of two.
That night we dine on rich pressed brawn with homemade piccalilli – faint hearts should not risk the kitchen when the pigs heads are boiling – and potted brown shrimps in a soft mace-flavoured butter.
My wife reckons it was worth the trip for the shrimps alone. And they're in a pot!
It's followed by braised wild rabbit, chef's favourite ingredient, with cubes of sweet root vegetables. Foodies will remember Wayne's rabbit rillettes at Bluwater.
My wife is eating black bream with clams, samphire and garlicky tartiflette.
The next day we head west across the A19 for the Crab and Lobster at Asenby, about 13 miles away.
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Flags flying from a dozen flagpoles, the bright red plastic crabs on the roof and an incongruous rocking horse over the door might leave you to guess the place is very much in your face.
It is. The bar is lined with books, ceiling nets bulge with oddments. But we ain’t seen nothing yet. Two rooms beyond, including a conservatory, are decked out like a circus. Deep sea divers swim perpetually in their helmets through the air.
Crab and lobster feature, naturally, on the menu. From the 16 a head set lunch we select game terrine and fishcakes, twice baked Swaledale cheese and leek souffl and adeptly cooked crabmeat encrusted salmon with a shellfish bisque, and bread and butter pudding. The breads are memorable.
The restaurant goes with the adjacent 14 room Crab Manor, completely over the top with its themed bedrooms (one is full of tiger skins and spears) and what looks like a stuffed yeti on the staircase.
We have supper at the Durham Ox at Crayke, the AA’s pub of the year in 2007, a long, low inn specialising in hearty food, including rotisserie free range chicken.
But the Abbey calls us back for a last drink. It is so peaceful here, out in the wide countryside between the villages of Coxwold and Wass.
At 11.30pm precisely the abbey illuminations are turned off and the stars and planets shine from an inky sky
The Abbey Inn floats my boat.
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Saturday 26 May 2012
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