<a target="_blank" href="http://www.thesamlinghotel.com/">The Samling</a>&nbsp;

Ambleside Road,

Windermere&nbsp;LA23 1LR, UKTel. +44&nbsp;15394 31922

BY NEAL MARTIN | MAY 3, 2019&nbsp; The Food

Seaweed-
and dashi-infused sourdough

Amuse-bouches: fried Thai
crackers with mayonnaise

Cured
sea bass with nasturtium, smoked cod roe, poached oyster and buttermilk

Slow-cooked
Lancashire suckling pig, Nam Jim langoustine, finger lime, spiced langoustine
and coconut broth

Charred
mackerel, brown shrimp satay, pickled cucumber

Anjou
squab pastrami, pumpernickel with beet relish, shaved Emmental, mustard and
dill

Confit
scallop from Oban, crab, charred cabbage with shiso and salty fingers

Slow-cooked
maple-glazed Jacob’s ladder, mushroom and Stilton, Alsace bacon with crisp kale
and shiitake

Cheese:
Colston Bassett, Lancashire Bomb, celery, grape, lovage, honey truffle and
Parmesan crisp cheese scone

Pistachio
cake, poached quince, yogurt and rose

Apple
terrine, spiced custard, pecan nuts with stem ginger ice cream

“Festive”
panettone

The Wines

<table>
 <tbody><tr>
 <td>2016&nbsp;Domaine Marc Colin&nbsp;Chassagne-Montrachet Les Cailleret&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </td>
 <td class="wysiwyg-text-align-right">&nbsp; 94</td>
 </tr>
 <tr>
 <td>1970 Poujeaux</td>
 <td class="wysiwyg-text-align-right">91</td>
 </tr>
 <tr>
 <td>1970 Lascombes</td>
 <td class="wysiwyg-text-align-right">88</td>
 </tr>
 <tr>
 <td>1970 d’Yquem</td>
 <td class="wysiwyg-text-align-right">88</td>
 </tr></tbody></table>

Every
New Year, the Martin family (minus budgerigar) packs its bags for a getaway to
put a full stop on the past 12 months before embarking upon the next. The
destination is any scenic part of this Sceptred Isle, the only prerequisites
fresh air, mountains, wild rivers and decent restaurants. (Our choice in 2017, <a target="_blank" href="https://vinous.com/articles/vinous-table-stuzzi-harrogate-uk-mar-2019">Stuzzi
in Yorkshire</a>, provided the maiden Vinous Table.) In December 2018, we
ventured further north to the Lake District – Wordsworth country, where Peter
Rabbit hops between the daffodils. I much prefer visiting in the depths of
winter, when country lanes are not hemorrhaged with tourists and moorlands are
shrouded in an almost unsettling tenebrous light that amplifies their desolate
grandeur. You can keep the cloudless blue skies for the postcards.

Finding
places to eat good grub proved more problematic than envisaged. The most
revered restaurant is Simon Rogan’s L’Enclume, but it operates a stringent “no
children” policy, one that regrettably seems to have been adopted by every
L’Enclume wannabe. I find this disappointing and frustrating. Nobody wants
misbehaving feral tearaways running amok between tables, or ululating babies
vomiting at the adjacent table, myself included. However, I recall a number of
expensive dinners ruined by ululating misbehaving adults. I can just about
accept refusing very young children in upmarket restaurants. But given that
many kids over the age of 12 are in fact mature, well-behaved and likely to be
studying food tech at school, why deny them the experience of fine dining?
Surely it instills a sense of restaurant etiquette from a young age, as well as
fostering an appreciation of ingredients and good food. In my experience, the
best restaurants treat children no differently than adults, knowing that they
are nurturing the next generation of gastronomes and chefs. The best place for
family dining is Italy, and in general, much of the Mediterranean, which
doubtless explains why they nurture rich food cultures that extend into the
family kitchen and not just posh restaurants.<img alt="" src="https://allgrapes.s3.amazonaws.com/uploads%2F1556914999673-samling+thai+crackers.jpg"> Amuse-bouches: fried Thai crackers with mayonnaise

After
being rebuffed by several restaurants for my crime of procreating, I finally
reserved a table at The Samling for New Year’s Eve. They welcomed over-12s and
agreed upon a very fair BYO policy. My family had lunched here three or four
years earlier, though in the last year the entire restaurant and adjoining
luxury 12-room hotel had undergone a top-to-toe refurbishment. The head chef is
Peter Howarth, formerly of Gidleigh Park, one of the top restaurants in the
country (though they did once charge
me bloody £17.00 for an extra ham sandwich because my daughter found they
contained too much mustard. Kids – they are either persona non grata or being ripped off!).

Despite
all the changes since our previous visit, one thing that has not and cannot be
altered is The Samling’s stunning location. Perched above Lake Windermere, the
remodeled restaurant exploits the panorama via floor-to-ceiling windows along
the entirety of two sides. You could gaze at the lake and distant mountains
composing poetry and forget that you had come to eat. Unfortunately, it was
pitch dark when we arrived, so we had to use our memories of our last visit to
mentally re-create the view. The simple decor and somber lighting lent the room
a welcome coziness that prevented the spacious setting from becoming a mere
“box with a view.” The service was exceptional: attentive without hovering
around our table, ready to answer any questions and happy to put my daughters
at ease with any unfamiliar ingredients.&nbsp;

For
New Year’s Eve, Howarth designed a set menu, the details of which we would
discover upon arrival. On this occasion, there was a clear East Asian influence
to the multi-course dinner designed around a series of small dishes. This was ideal
for the kids, who, when confronted with one of the more experimental plates, could
skip it and play on their smartphones until the next dish appeared. As it
turned out, my epicurean offspring were keen to discover novel tastes – further
evidence that that children should have access to all types of cuisine &nbsp;(and I say that as someone reared on gammon
and chips).<img alt="" src="https://allgrapes.s3.amazonaws.com/uploads%2F1556915031487-samling+cured+seabass.jpg"> Cured sea bass with nasturtium, smoked cod roe, poached oyster and buttermilk

We
began on what you might call “home territory” with shared plates of Thai
crackers, deep-fried squid and mayonnaise, served alongside delicious seaweed-
and dashi-infused sourdough bread.
The bread was exceptional, moist and more-ish, the unusual infusion working
brilliantly. The next course was a cured sea bass with nasturtium, smoked cod
roe, poached oyster and buttermilk. This was a hardcore dish for the kids, but
their Japanese palates are attuned to the strong tang of the fish and cod roe,
the latter of whose texture can put people off. The dish was well presented and
freshened our palates for the following courses.

One
minor criticism of the meal is the haphazard zigzagging between fish and meat.
I would have followed the sea bass with the mackerel, but instead, in trotted
the slow-cooked Lancashire suckling pig, Nam Jim langoustine, finger lime,
spiced langoustine and coconut broth. This was richer, of course, although the
suckling pig was not too large and partnered better than expected with the
langoustine. We veered back to the sea with the charred mackerel and brown
shrimp satay with pickled cucumber. The kids are not the biggest mackerel fans
in the world and skipped the dish (smartphones out!), whereas I firmly believe
that mackerel is one of the most underrated poissons
in the world. It was bursting with flavor and omega-3s, well presented and a healthy
interlude.<img alt="" src="https://allgrapes.s3.amazonaws.com/uploads%2F1556915076515-samling+mackerel.jpg"> 

Charred mackerel, brown shrimp satay, pickled cucumber

The
Anjou squab pastrami, pumpernickel with beet relish, shaved Emmental, mustard
and dill course did not work for me. The squab was well cooked, although I found
the ingredients ill-fitting, with competing flavors. I would have simplified
this dish. The scallop from the Isle of Oban, served with crab, charred cabbage
with shiso and salty fingers, worked much better, the scallop perfectly textured,
just delicately crispy on the surface and set off nicely by the shiso. The wife was hesitant; a few
years ago, she caught food poisoning from a scallop at another New Year’s Eve
dinner and spent a week recovering in bed and vowing never to go near another
scallop. Fortunately, there were no aftereffects this time.

The
slow-cooked maple-glazed Jacob’s ladder, mushroom and Stilton, Alsace bacon
with crisp kale and shiitake, again, was a more successful combination than the
squab. The Jacob’s ladder is an increasingly popular cut rib from just behind
the cow’s front legs, and it was beautifully cooked. Maybe the one-two of maple
glaze and Alsace bacon nudged it toward being too rich and overpowering, the
shiitake crying out to be tasted, but we were all mopping up the sauce with the
sourdough crusts, an act that speaks for itself.<img alt="" src="https://allgrapes.s3.amazonaws.com/uploads%2F1556915098071-samling+jacobs+ladder.jpg"> Slow-cooked maple-glazed Jacob’s ladder, mushroom and Stilton, Alsace bacon with crisp kale and shiitake

The
fromage comprised Colston Bassett,
one of this country’s most famous and finest blue Stilton cheeses, and the
brilliantly-titled Lancashire Bomb, so called because it does look like
something you would lob at your enemy. They were accompanied by celery, grape,
lovage, honey truffle and Parmesan crisp cheese scones. I loved the cheese and
honey combination. The stronger the cheese, the better the contrast, and I
could have eaten another plate. In fact, I did... my daughter’s. There were
three desserts, which dragged on just a little. However, the pistachio cake,
poached quince, yogurt and rose was exceptional, delicate and yet full of
flavor. It worked better than the apple terrine, spiced custard and pecan nuts
with stem ginger ice cream, which felt a little trop after the pistachio cake. I was full up by this time, and so Mrs.
M polished off the “Festive” panettone, which she deemed “satisfactory.”

I
bought two wines with me and drank neither (in stark contrast to 12 months
earlier, when I polished off an entire bottle of Flaccianello before Big Ben
sounded in the New Year). Unfortunately, this dinner was soon after I began
falling ill with a heart condition, in the pre-diagnosis-but-something’s-gone-wrong
period. Loath to cancel the evening, I volunteered to drive, penning tasting
notes and seeing how much my wife could drink before donating the rest to
grateful staff. The 2016
Chassagne-Montrachet Les Cailleret from Domaine Marc Colin is burnished gold in color. It has an intense
bouquet, a little richer than I expect, with ample Golden Delicious, brioche, chamomile
and yellow flower scents, though perhaps not quite delivering the mineralité that I expect from this
limestone-dominated vineyard. That is true of the palate too, although it has
fantastic weight and girth, delivering layers of citrus fruit, custard creams and
shaved almond – dare I say, almost like a very fine Chardonnay from Sonoma!
Gorgeous, but not as cerebral as some of Damien Colin’s other 2016s.<img alt="" src="https://allgrapes.s3.amazonaws.com/uploads%2F1556915131059-samling+cheese+dish.jpg"> Cheese: Colston Bassett, Lancashire Bomb, celery, grape, lovage, honey truffle and Parmesan crisp cheese scone

I
served three bottles over the festive period, all Bordeaux and all acquired
in... Burgundy, as you do. Two were poured at The Samling; the third, intended
for New Year’s Eve, was reassigned to accompany the Christmas turkey. I think
my vexing health condition was already forewarning me that I had better go easy
and spread the libation over a few days. The 1970 Poujeaux comes from a strong era for the Moulis estate. I am
glad the bottle was consumed over a two-hour period, since it turned a little
acetic after half an hour but then underwent a Damascene resurrection and
blossomed after an hour in the glass, ending up even better than when first
poured. A little turbid in color with a tawny rim, it has an attractive,
classic Médoc bouquet of melted tar, cigar box, black fruit and sandalwood. It
is not powerful, yet defined and focused. The palate is medium-bodied with
slightly rigid tannins that melt with aeration. After its acetic phase, when it
manifests overt soy aromas, it coalesces wonderfully, revealing notes of thyme
and tobacco on the satisfyingly fresh finish. It is no blockbuster, but it is
certainly a lovely Moulis that proves how well Poujeaux lasts in bottle. The 1970 Lascombes is the oldest vintage of
this Margaux that I have tasted. Surprisingly deep in hue with just a slight
turbidity, it initially sports a rustic nose, stocky and Saint-Julien in style.
But it develops more complexity with aeration, becoming slightly loamy and
developing inky aromas. The palate likewise improves over the course of two
hours, evolving ever-greater complexity. A pretty wine, and with more stuffing
than the 1970 Poujeaux tasted the previous week. Its main failing is softness
on the short finish, where I want more grip. Apart from those two criticisms, this
is a pretty Lascombes that should be consumed over the next five or six years.
The 1970 d’Yquem is a vintage that I
have not tasted for many years. It is not a great vintage for Sauternes, one
overshadowed by the following year and by the reds. Now at 48 years of age, it
has a relatively light bouquet for an Yquem, certainly less rich than the 1971
or 1975, offering gooseberry and quince notes, and just a fleeting glimpse of
beeswax and saffron. Like a car stuck in third gear, but it still gets you from
A to B. The palate is balanced and citrus-driven, with orange peel and a touch
of marmalade, although I find the finish conservative and missing genuine
complexity. It’s not a poor Yquem, but the word that best describes it is
“half-hearted.” Based on this showing, bottles ought to be consumed in the near
future.<img alt="" src="https://allgrapes.s3.amazonaws.com/uploads%2F1556915163619-lascombe+1970+bottle.jpg"> 

Occasions
like New Year’s Eve are probably not the most accurate litmus tests of a
restaurant, especially when it’s not a regular service and there is a special
menu. Based on this dinner, The Samling probably deserves its Michelin star, even
if some of the dishes were overly complicated and some combinations of
ingredients worked better than others. Another person might have found the
courses a bit too disjointed and the flavors too eclectic, although I enjoyed
the anticipation of seeing what came next. The location is a major attraction
of the dining experience. But on this particular evening, what mattered more
than anything was being able to dine with my children, introducing them to fine
dining, new ingredients and the obligatory fireworks overlooking Windermere, and
wondering what 2019 held in store.

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