The Three Horseshoes, Batcombe: 'Delightfully free of any notions of trend or whimsy or even globality' - restaurant review
Seldon Curry visits the sleepy village of Batcombe for a lunch that even George Orwell would approve
Seldon Curry is the head chef of Seaside Boarding House in Dorset. Many Bristolians recall fondly his time as chef-owner of the lauded Wallfish Bistro, which sadly closed in 2018, breaking hearts across the city. Now he’s back - but turning his talents to writing! Despite being one of the most humble men I know, Seldon pioneers; he is the first of many chefs who will write for the Sauce and he has set us off on a remarkably strong foot.
The more observant among you will note that Batcombe is not in Bristol. The pedants among you will argue it should therefore not feature in The Bristol Sauce. Fortunately, no one dictates what we write in these digital pages, and if there is bloody good food an hour away and a bloody good chef prepared to write about it, then there’s no way I’m turning it down. I’m sure, once you’ve read this, you’ll agree it’s very much worth covering.
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“I know pubs where the beer is good but you can’t get meals, others where you can get meals but which are noisy and crowded, and others which are quiet but where the beer is generally sour. As for gardens, offhand I can only think of three London pubs that possess them. But, to be fair, I do know of a few pubs that almost come up to the Moon Under Water. I have mentioned above ten qualities that the perfect pub should have and I know one pub that has eight of them. Even there, however, there is no draught stout, and no china mugs. And if anyone knows of a pub that has draught stout, open fires, cheap meals, a garden, motherly barmaids and no radio, I should be glad to hear of it, even though its name were something as prosaic as the Red Lion or the Railway Arms.” - Evening Standard, 9 February 1946
George Orwell knew what he wanted in a pub and I feel that I do too.
In fact, when I read the recent revelatory expose that men are supposedly always daydreaming about the Roman empire I cannot help but think that I am much more inclined to pondering the perfect alehouse. It may be a little different to George's but not so much that comfortable and competent hospitality are the key ingredient.
Margot Henderson and her clan caused minor ructions in the sleepy and beautiful village of Batcombe by stating their desire to Arnold Circus-ify this corner of Somerset. But then again, it is now almost a tradition to get pushback when you are bringing nice things to an underutilised and beloved local.
The Three Horseshoes is a true humdinger of a pub. The fire was cranked up, warding off December chills. Upon entering I spotted a giant bottle of La Vieille Prune on the bar and Maldon oysters on the chalkboard (£4 each - market price) so it had basically hit all of my criteria before we even saw a menu.
Speaking of which, if you have been to St. John or Rochelle Canteen or any of the myriad places the team here have influenced then the menu itself will not surprise but it will delight.
Scotch egg (£6) from the bar menu was knockout and the oysters were minerally and crisp, although the accompanying sharp mignonette sauce was a little rustically chopped; as if it it had been run through a combine harvester and forced to tolerate the urbane Essex bivalves.
Pickled herring and mustard (£13) was absolutely superb; taut, fresh and clean. Bring me pickled fish and get me to Denmark! The squash soup (£10) looked great and was well received but, you know, it’s soup, and we all know unless it tastes of burnt ocean floor then soup is bullshit.
Devilled pig skin (£4) was little lacking in devil but was still pig skin so always welcome to the party. It wasn’t the posh crackling anticipated but something a little more sedate and giving.
There was a time when I was cooking for boogie woogie friend Jools Holland and when he asked what I recommended he responded, “when a chef says to have the pie, I’m having the pie.” I followed his mantra at the ‘Shoes and ended up with a mutton stew with kale and soda bread (£23). Delicious and nourishing no doubt, but an Irish stew in Somerset Toast outlet clothing that ultimately reminded me of teenage holidays to powerless cottages in deepest southern Ireland.
The pies themselves were true bobby dazzlers. A burnished crust over what was quite a shallow but wide pie dish was filled with venison, prune and trotter (£24). It took me the duration of the meal to realise what an excellent decision it was to deliver maximum pastry surface area with the choice of dish. The pies themselves were a snifter shy of trotter, prune and salt (not on the table) but tasty and generous.
Anybody selling me 'beef dripping chips' (£5) is clearly on an algorithm-led charm offensive straight to my kryptonite and the resulting dish was good if a little bitty and yearning again for the salt cellar.
I would happily live in this glorious pub, run by people who clearly prioritise the right things. Oh to have the opportunity to stay over and take part in the paella night run by Margot and Fergus Henderson - not only a chance to eat with bona fide food royalty but also incredibly good value.
The puddings are delightfully free of any notions of trend or whimsy or even globality. Think sexy posh school lunch, possibly at an art gallery opening. The car nap- inducing treacle tart (£9) was, on first meeting, bracingly sweet but soon smoothed over by clotted cream. A glass of La Vieille Prune and a coffee brought me back to the real world very contentedly.
The service is great, levelled at the sweet spot of busy, caring and informed. I was totally charmed at the fact that the WiFi was down and they were happy to feed us anyway and call later to collect payment. Adroit, trusting and tapping into my deep-rooted analogue sensibilities.
I have always believed the biggest battle in hospitality is in choosing to do the right things and here in Batcombe there is impeccable taste at every turn. A pub that even George Orwell would have approved of.
All words and photos by Seldon Curry
The Three Horseshoes, Batcombe, Shepton Mallet BA4 6HE (about an hour from central Bristol)
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Nice to hear the 3 Shoes is holding strong. I have to ask though if Seldon could expound: "we all know unless it tastes of burnt ocean floor then soup is bullshit"??
Been there (but not recently enough). Love it. In fact I stayed there and the bedrooms are dreamy. Perfect romantic escape