Zombie Pirate Ninja Monkey

Mad Clerical Gothic Excess

To celebrate the halfway point between our two birthdays, the onset of Easter and anything else we could think of, it was off to the Witchery for us this weekend.  The Witchery is primarily known as a restaurant: they only have six suites, and I suspect that they are mainly used by people intending to eat at the restaurant.

Our suite was called The Vestry, and was a celebration of the highest of arch-camp.  Rich reds throughout, tromp l'oeil drapery on the stairs and in the bathroom, clerical vestments on doors and bishop's robes on those old-fashioned tailor's dummies with a chest shaper on a stand but nothing else (these in the bathroom of all places).

It is all very well done, with the few potentially jarring modernisms hidden away (in these pictures, the TV and DVD player rises out of the bedding-box affair at the foot of the bed, for instance).  Bag is model's own.

The bedding was red velvet, there was marble everywhere, from the skirting boards to the tops of the bedposts.  And yes, for a bedstead there were organ pipes.

The food was delicious: I had roast foie gras with a soft poached duck egg and saffron brioche for starter.  Delicious as the foie gras was, it could serve as no more than an accompaniment to an absolutely perfectly poached egg. Nicole had the warmed white asparagus with mousseline sauce which was competently prepared but nothing spectacular.

For a main, I had Tournedos Rossini: a fillet of beef from the Buccleuch estate, foie gras crouton and madeira jus.  Too much foie gras?  From a standpoint of political correctness, certainly.  It was very good, but still had to compete with the memories of that poached egg, and most things would suffer in comparison.  Also, it was a touch over-salted for my taste.

And speaking of the salt: the salt and pepper shakers were the oddest thing about the meal.  We were in the Secret Garden, which is a recent creation outside the wall of the original restaurant, but which looks entirely late 16th century thanks to the materials and architectural salvage used in building it.  This isn't surprising, given that the Witchery is in grade A-listed territory about four buildings down from the castle esplanade itself.  Everything is done in perfect lock-step with this overarching theme.  Except the 1970s aluminium-and-stripped-pine condiments.  It will sound pretentious if I say that I asked to have them taken away, but really: they were awful.

Nicole, for her main course, had a roast loin of Perthshire roe deer with braised red cabbage, Stornaway black pudding and a chocolate sauce.  Her choice was, I admit, superior to mine.  The sauce was exquisite (I feared something over-spiced: every savoury chocolate sauce I have had was packed with chilli in the Mexican style) and the black pudding so good that even she ate it, which would never, ever happen normally, trust me.

We drank Chateau Musar, which I love, although I accept that some find the high levels of oxidation typical to Serge Hochar's winemaking a touch overpowering.  The vintage was 1994 which, along with the 1991, is just about the best I have tasted.  Having been met by a bottle of Pol Roger in the room, by the time we had finished the Musar we were decidedly cheery about the world.

Finally, for dessert, we each had the Witchery pudding selection which is, to quote: "dark chocolate torte with lavender ice cream; raspberry and pistachio panna cotta; rhubarb, ginger and vanilla cheesecake; and glazed Italian lemon tart with blueberry compote".  That's each.  And in the panna cotta I finally found a match for the poached egg.  It was so good that, in a spirit of positively Jacobean excess, I ordered and finished the full version of the panna cotta myself, once I had finished my first dessert.