Breakfast after the night before!

All but four of the hotel guests are in the breakfast room discussing “things that go bump in the night”! It turns out that Hambrough isn't haunted at all but the remaining guests, who appear to be parents and their two children, have been enjoying that age-old Christmas tradition of a big old humdinger of a family row. So no ghosts of Christmas past, present and future entertaining us, but I suspect spirits of another sort helped fuel the nocturnal activities instead! The screaming, door slamming perpetrators are breakfasting in their rooms (or burying the body on the beach) so we can't count all their limbs but our curiosity will most like be sated at Boxing Day lunch. 

In the meantime I eat some of the beautifully presented ring of smoked salmon (don’t think Iceland here more Fortnum & Mason!) with the happy chickens’ golden scrambled eggs. 

There is a charity swim, or how long you can stay in the cold, cold sea endurance test, taking place at midday so our daily constitutional is joining the Ventnor inhabitants cheering on the hardy participants. I felt I got drenched enough yesterday striving for that decisive moment, and my hiking boots are still very much out of commission so will watch safely from the sidelines.

Oh and then there's the final lunch, gulp, must...work...up...appetite!

It's Christmaaaas!

I had a lovely surprise from my team but especially the gorgeous other J and the fabulous new H. They had secretly organized the assembly of an intriguingly jingly, lumpy, jolly Father Christmas stocking so “I'd have something to open on Christmas Day”. I had sworn not the peek and I hadn't, not even the tiniest bit. I'd carefully packed the stocking for its Speedcat ride over to the Isle of Wight and hung it up on the door handle in lieu of a suitable fireplace and now it's time for the grand unveiling. But I did say I'd be down for breakfast nice and early (to maximise the recovery time before lunch) with the other festive guests so I'd would just have to wait a little bit longer. 

I'd calculated that the lightest of the breakfasts would be soft boiled egg with soldiers. But as I’m down so early the just-out-of-the-oven pain au chocolat aromas assail me as I arrive in the dining room. Perhaps if spend the interval between breakfast and lunch stomping around Ventnor I might justify the Christmas breakfast indulgence. 

Boiled egg and soldiers was my special dish as a little girl and it still transports me back in a whirl of nostalgia. So I always want to keep the tradition and  have to have my boiled eggs served ’old school’. That means the soldiers have to be a slice of buttered and untoasted white bread, cut into the requisite orderly columns. I must admit when I make soldiers I butter the bread first as it is so much less fiddly but that will be my fault for not pre-warning of my preference for untoasted bread. The eggs are local, clearly borne of happy chickens and have the most golden sunshiny yolks to dunk the buttered soldiers into. A perfect start to the day of festive fare. 

Before getting on my hiking boots I'm champing at the bit to unwrap the contents of my intriguing jangly stocking and it's been so much worth the wait. They've surpassed themselves, in Father Christmas nether regions I discovered a delicate snowflake garland to decorate my room, fabulous new H’s cousin’s suitably seasonal novel The Snow Merchant to curl up with later, our team’s favourite-for-any-occasion Lindt truffles, glamorous bath confetti for future soaking and my beloved Coco Chanel perfumed lotion and the new season’s Chanel Black Pearl nail varnish. With these gifts you are thoroughly spoiling me! An incredibly happy Christmas to me! 

Starting the day in style!

Well not technically, as the tray would have been a little tricky to manoeuvre, but in my room at least. I don't generally avail myself of hotel room service, I'm not sure why.  Perhaps I think it won't be as nice as what's on offer in the dining room or I’ll miss something but as I was the last to leave the dining room last night it was suggested I may like to take them up on their kind offer. And it was perfect start to my first morning here and added to the indulgence of the whole experience. So I could wrap myself in a fluffy robe and receive first a tray laden with a silver toast rack, condiments, teapot and linen.  Followed by a second knock to bring my full cooked breakfast and then a third to bring me a caramelised apple on a small slate. How chic to have an amuse bouche with breakfast!

The 'full English', with the barest of reminders to exclude the tomato (they had remembered!) comprises of a plump, juicy sausage, a smaller sausage of the moistest, crumbliest of black pudding, tasty dry cure bacon, sautéed mushrooms and a golden yolked egg.  Oh I could get used to this. 

The last hurrah!

There's a large part of me that doesn't want to pack up all my sparkly stuff and head forth to my next destination. My second hotel over in Seaview sounds very nice but I've been so happy here and sad to leave these foodie delights behind and what if the food isn't as good at my next hotel. But the Hambrough has a cunning plan. To ensure Michelin star-struck guests don't linger after their gourmet Christmas they see us off, take down all the glittery stars, pack away the sparkly chocolate and turquoise baubles and close the hotel until the end of January. I have been known to go for 'just one more meal' to prolong the eventual departure from a place I've really enjoyed. I can't stay for lunch (as there will be no-one to cook for me) but I can avail myself of one of their very fine cooked breakfasts (adding the ’no tomato shall darken my plate’ caveat). And it is a perfect send-off, succulent sausages and moist black pudding (this is often little crispy nuggets) and a perfect runny egg. The chef patron Robert Thompson helps me with my luggage down the stairs and I can take the opportunity to heap my praises on his alchemy in the kitchen. I have really enjoyed my Christmas here, the food, the room and entire experience. This a diamond fork place, my three fork plus accolade. Just one last look and a promise that I’ll be back, hopefully next year.

Have I been naughty or nice?

On awaking on Christmas morning in my fabulous room in the enviable position of overlooking the chilly sea I was fortunate to catch the remnants of the sunrise and could set up my tripod and fire off a few shots without having to brave the frosty elements.



Despite not leaving out any mince pies nor a tot of whiskey, I had been visited (by a red besuited and bearded man perhaps?), and hanging from my door handle was a bulging red velvet stocking filled with all sorts of surprise goodies: chocolates, dried fruit and nuts, Christmas pudding, festive fragrant herb bag, candy cane and the obligatory satsuma. I've even got some Robert Thompson recipes to try at home. Merry Christmas to me! Not having ever stayed in a hotel at Christmas I don't know if this de rigeur but I thought it was such fabulous touch especially after believing that this particular solo Christmas would be surprise free! I suspect that it's just another reason why this is a special place to stay - thank you Alistair Sawday for the recommendation.


Christmas breakfast were some delicate soft folds of creamy scrambled eggs topped with rosy slices of smoked salmon. I had considered washing it down with Champagne but decided to save that for lunch.
Talking of lunch, if I had the merest hope of being able to eat another mouthful ever again I better don my unusually sensible hiking boots, hats and scarves a plenty and hit that beach. Perhaps if I stroll up and down it for a couple of hours and check out the rest of Ventnor I will be able to build up an appetite. Perhaps!


During the winter the local dog walkers are allowed to release their excitable hairy charges onto the beach, so the surprisingly bright day was full of happy dogs, people wearing red hats trimmed with white fluff, the annual wearing of the festive socks and the whoops of children practicing riding their new scooters and bikes on the deserted seafront.





Ventnor has the customary fish and chip café, bucket and spade shop, ice cream parlor and amusement arcade (all very much with hatches battened down today) but it all seemed rather quaint.





There seemed to be the distinct lack of tawdriness that some seaside resorts have. It's clean and neat, the air filled with crying swooping seagulls and that evocative salty tang to the air.


There is a touch of back and beyond to it all and again I'm intrigued why Robert Thompson chose here to build his gourmet Mecca. But as a much cleverer restaurant reviewer remarked quoting the infamous line from the Field of Dreams - "If you build it, they will come!"


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A very special place to stay in Wells

The neat cream building with dusky blue door and windows is the luxury B&B Merchant's House in Wells. D and MC stayed here last summer after we packed up the cottage in Holme and I went to stay at Titchwell Manor. I'm sure they had a lovely visit but we haven't spoken about really that much since then so we haven't compared notes yet.
The discovery was due to the kind ministrations of Alastair Sawday. What makes his guides so indispensable is in the title - Special Places to Stay. He uncovers and carefully details those places that are especially welcoming, especially beautiful, especially quirky or historic, especially good at cooking or especially unique. And Liz and Dennis (and their adorable dogs - friendly Poppy and more nonchalant Rosie) tick all the boxes with their lovely and wonderfully historic home. They have two rooms, one with a imposing oak four poster bed and the blue room. I'm staying in the blue room. I have a light airy room, lit by a chandelier with attractive wood topped distressed cream chest of drawers, matching bedside table, wicker chair, piles of covetable natural, sandy, blue cushions on the bed and chair - for me the colours of this coast and all those beach-y knick-knacks that I'd fill my dream beach hut with. The four poster room has a bathroom a short step across the hallway whereas I have a immaculate ensuite blue and white tiled bathroom.
In the morning Liz whips up the tasty breakfast whilst Dennis is in charge of the freshly made bread. You eat breakfast in a charming room that was once a butchers. The wonderful old wooden half door where the customer would lean over and ask for their cut of meat, the extra low floor stripped of wood for easy mopping and the grooves in the window where the rods of meat would hang bely the former occupation. Dennis also told us that alongside the building next-door the merchants would bring their boats to the door and when the necessary water was reclaimed and redirected the owner switched to horses and built stables to accommodate them instead. Parts of the Merchant House are the oldest buildings in Wells so there is lots of history to hear about over breakfast.
The situation so close to the quay means you can stroll on past all the boats to the beach, you may even see Dennis on duty keeping an eye on the sea in the look-out tower. I can understand why these rooms get snapped up so quickly because it feels like home and you won't want to leave.

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Egg-ceedingly good!

After waxing lyrical about the Byfords eggs Benedict yesterday I felt I should go crazy and try the eggs Arlington this morning. Instead of their own tasty ham I'd get fat ribbons of Cley smoked salmon. From the famous smokery in the very village I'll be heading for later in the week.
If I had to choose between the two I'd struggle, they are both equally exemplary. My only conclusion is that Byfords do an exceedingly good Eggs Benedict and Eggs Arlington, my two favourite meals here so far.


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Byford's Benedict

I fell for Byfords charms due the magic words "Eggs Benedict", which is one of my desert island dishes. Last August D, MC and I had been exploring the little shops in the courtyards of Holt and had found a handy table outside a buzzing Byfords and plonked down to partake in a cup of tea and possibly something more substantial. I think MC was especially delighted that D and I wouldn't be shopping for a while though we hadn't remotely relived our shopping orgy from our first visit to Holt but there's always a chance!
Whilst D and MC share a meat platter I realize that Byfords make a damn fine Eggs Benedict, the best I'd had for a really long time so mental note to self, must come back and maybe next time check out their bedrooms and see if they're as good as the Benedict!
A year later I'm back and the room is very nice indeed so how are the eggs? I'm feeling more like a brunch today but as this is a popular spot for taking a tasty respite (and it's rather rainy) so the place is chocked full. I didn't realize initially that there is a designated area for the residents but one of the friendly waitresses shows me to a table next to the groaning buffet table in a light room with more if the Steven Brooks photographs of the North Norfolk coast that I'd so admired in my room when my mistake is noticed. And as the queues of hungry potential diners grow I'm glad of my corner and could notice tad proliferation of families and especially pushchairs. At one point I was flanked with pushchairs (or strollers if you prefer) on every side - clearly 'the' accessory in Holt or today - Nappy Valley. And for much the time one of the babies were grizzling and occasionally screaming. Not quite the peaceful brunch I'd envisaged. But all that aside the Byfords Eggs Benedict were still as delicious as I'd recalled. There was an initial mix-up with tickets and my first portion was left standing on the pass which made it a tad cold and the hollandaise didn't look so glossy and unctuous. But that was whisked away immediately and hot on its heels came a second much hotter portion which looked much more appetizing and was indeed worth the wait.



So why am I waxing lyrical about a simple typical brunch dish. Well first it's the quality, their own glazed ham was thickly cut and flavorsome, the freshly laid happy eggs were poached well and just had enough oozy yolk when you forked it, the muffin topped which some green crunch was a great vehicle for the egg and ham and everything was draped in a perfect, velvety herby hollandaise. Which I adore and rarely can be bothered to whip up myself. Top brunch with or without the babies!

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