Corsham House has been reviewed twice in the national press already. Such is the draw of the Beckford Group, they seem to be able to achieve the near impossible feat of getting journalists out of London. That’s one of the primary reasons I started The Bristol Sauce. I grew tired of our city being properly, critically reviewed only once in a blue moon. Why should London have it all when our restaurant scene is so good? If you want Bristol to get the press it deserves, consider supporting our work by becoming a paying subscriber.
I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve found myself sitting in a beautiful British pub, scanning an overworked menu that somehow manages to travel the globe without taking me anywhere exciting, and wondering: what would the Beckford Group do with this place?
The answer is always the same. It would give the decor a tasteful overhaul without losing the venue’s inherent character, train the staff to an enviable level of relaxed competence, and lay on a menu populated by elevated British classics with a pinch of European panache.
Having established outposts across a slice of Wiltshire and Somerset with the likes of The Beckford Arms and The Lord Poulett, and conquered the Bath dining scene with the Beckford Canteen and Bottle Shop, the group has hit 2026 with a flurry of exciting openings. Corsham House is its first restaurant with rooms, which explains why James Harris of Beckford Bottle Shop has been entrusted to oversee the kitchen.
The venue is a grand Grade II-listed Georgian house that has steadily shifted shape and function over the centuries, even serving as a bank until 2016. This has produced a series of rooms and corridors that never quite seem to follow on from one another in the way you’d expect.
Its cosily opulent ground floor dining room is all brass fittings and burgundy banquettes, set off by a reflective ceiling and a marble-topped bar. To the right of the main entrance, a bottle-lined seating area that seeks to export Beckford Bottle Shop’s vibe to the countryside. To the left, a “hidden” courtyard where the well heeled of Corsham sup their negronis (£14) and peruse the menu.
As we melt into our seats one muggy Saturday evening, noughties electronica group Fujiya & Miyagi are on the speakers, muttering about tripping over their laces. I pray this doesn’t augur bad things.
Parched as the surrounding Wiltshire hills, we dive into the drinks menu, settling on a carafe of Sousón. It’s a little spendy at £39 for 500ml, but the promise of a chilled red proves too much to pass up on such a close evening. Wine is very much the order of the day here, with extensive by-the-glass options starting from £8 and steadily climbing into the mid-teens.
With something cool and acidic in our glasses, our thoughts turn to the trio of small plates that arrive in short order. Having resisted the Landrace bread and cultured butter (£5), we commence instead with the fresh crunch of crab salad (£14), sweet white meat mixed with what seem to be julienned radish and finely diced apple, then dotted with globules of pea puree and sat atop a dense puck of English muffin.
The pig’s head fritter (£10) promises much on paper, and certainly delivers in terms of porky richness. However, the greasy puddle it leaves on the plate seems a mite excessive, and it needs a more liberal application of salt to justify the sweet one-two of sliced pickle and gooseberry ketchup.
By this point I was kicking myself under the table for ordering too many fried elements, but the late addition of Westcombe cheddar curds (£7) turned out to be inspired. This generously proportioned snack has us trailing crunchy-chewy strands of dairy matter through fluffy Marmite mayo.
It’s a salty umami bomb of a dish, and one that threatens to blitz any other light bite on the table. If your palate can stand up to the pummelling, though, this dish might just settle the great Marmite debate once and for all.
From the large plates section, we opt to eschew the two meaty options. As our server sagely notes, the steak is great, but still very much a steak. I’ll also admit to having had one eye on the steak and eggs (£15) option from the following morning’s breakfast menu. Besides, halibut with charcuterie XO and chicken jus (£28) reads like it should supply enough meatiness to sate any carnivore.
In the event, the fish is a tad overcooked and, again, under seasoned, with the sauce mainly conveying a cloying sweetness. The most distinct taste here comes from the accompanying peas, which, as much as I love those little green suckers, is not what you want to hear when you’re ordering the most luxurious dish on the menu.
The signature Corsham chips with chicken salt (£7) fail to provide a sufficiently savoury counterpoint. We’re in the contentious realm of the layered fried potato here — arguably not a true chip, but unarguably delicious when done correctly (pour one out for Lucky Strike). This particular version lacks the necessary crunch and — you guessed it — salt level for the job, yielding only a vague vinegariness through the semi-flaccid starch.
Salvation lies with cheese custard. Doesn’t it always? Half a sweetheart cabbage (£19) comes doused in silky cheddar sauce, then liberally sprinkled with “onion salad” – a somewhat highfalutin term for the kind of crispy topping you might find on a hot dog. There’s really no need for such posturing, as they add the ideal savoury crunch to those contrasting earthy and tangy notes.
It’s been an evening of peaks and troughs, but thankfully the meal concludes on an almost uniformly high note. There’s a particularly sharp elderflower tart (£9), its faintly tropical-tinged filling housed in some impressively fine pastry work – though I would have preferred a little more snap to the crust.
The apple cake (£8) offers the kind of gently spiced slice of comfort that you could envision enjoying with your afternoon cuppa, were it not elevated several levels by a generous chunk of tangy Dorstone goat’s cheese. A handful of macerated currants are on hand to provide sweetness and bite. It’s one of those desserts that could serve double duty on the small plates section, such is the fine balance of sweet and savoury elements.
Propping up the moodily-lit art deco bar at the end of service, sipping a martini (£14), I’m left with mixed feelings. It’s still early days for Corsham House, a venue that will almost certainly become a lovely spot for a quick weekend break built around inventive brasserie cooking. It’s already a great place to come and enjoy a few high quality accompaniments to an excitingly varied wine list.
But a firmer hand on quality control – and the seasoning pot – is required if it’s to really make a name for itself in the ever-expanding Beckford empire.
All words and photos by Jon Mundy
Corsham House, 13 High Street, SN13 0ET
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