In search of fine dining
As far as I know, Egon Ronay didn’t spend much time in Hastings. For a man who insured his taste buds for £250K, there probably seemed little point. A plate of fish and chips may be the highlight of any trip to the seaside, but as a gastronomic genre, it never made the cut in his hugely influential guide.
I assume there were several reasons for this peculiar oversight. Chippies tend not to have linen tablecloths. Or silver service waiters. Nor do they have a maître d’ or an extensive wine list. And there’s usually no need to book.
There are exceptions, of course. Maggie’s is a cut above, perched atop the fish market on the foreshore. They serve a great quaffing house white for £2.50 a glass and while they don’t have a maitre d’, they do insist you book – competition for tables is so fierce that you have more chance of walking into Le Gavroche on the off chance of getting fed. And like almost any restaurant in the world, some tables are perceived to be better than others.
When once asked how to get the ‘best table’ Ronay said: ‘If you don’t like your table, simply ask to be moved [or] go to drama school, get the lead role in several Hollywood movies.’
Maggie’s is much more egalitarian and will happily reserve anyone a sea-facing window seat if you give them enough notice.
But for those in search of something that isn’t coated in batter, the best table in town is further up the high street, in the back of AG Hendy & Co Home Store, past the brushes and enamel cookware. Here, Alastair Hendy has returned to doing what he does better than most: cooking. From 12 till 4.30 on Saturdays and Sundays, gastronauts who have managed to claw their way on to the reservations list sit on stools looking out on to the courtyard or round the old wooden table on utilitarian 1940s chairs. In summer the tables extend outside.
Like the contents of the shop, the food is exquisite and strictly seasonal. Over the coming weeks, ramson (wild garlic) fans can revel in a choice of its uses from the light buttery drizzle on top of the lemon sole to the chopped leaves stirred into the potato and whelk soup.
Almost everything used, from the Duralex glasses to the bonehandled knives, can be bought in the store. And the best table? The seating for 10 either side of the long bench in the middle of the kitchen, complete with a ringside view of Alastair working at the huge 1930s range. Priceless, especially if you don’t have your kitchen.
Next week: Running water…
I assume there were several reasons for this peculiar oversight. Chippies tend not to have linen tablecloths. Or silver service waiters. Nor do they have a maître d’ or an extensive wine list. And there’s usually no need to book.
There are exceptions, of course. Maggie’s is a cut above, perched atop the fish market on the foreshore. They serve a great quaffing house white for £2.50 a glass and while they don’t have a maitre d’, they do insist you book – competition for tables is so fierce that you have more chance of walking into Le Gavroche on the off chance of getting fed. And like almost any restaurant in the world, some tables are perceived to be better than others.
When once asked how to get the ‘best table’ Ronay said: ‘If you don’t like your table, simply ask to be moved [or] go to drama school, get the lead role in several Hollywood movies.’
Maggie’s is much more egalitarian and will happily reserve anyone a sea-facing window seat if you give them enough notice.
But for those in search of something that isn’t coated in batter, the best table in town is further up the high street, in the back of AG Hendy & Co Home Store, past the brushes and enamel cookware. Here, Alastair Hendy has returned to doing what he does better than most: cooking. From 12 till 4.30 on Saturdays and Sundays, gastronauts who have managed to claw their way on to the reservations list sit on stools looking out on to the courtyard or round the old wooden table on utilitarian 1940s chairs. In summer the tables extend outside.
Like the contents of the shop, the food is exquisite and strictly seasonal. Over the coming weeks, ramson (wild garlic) fans can revel in a choice of its uses from the light buttery drizzle on top of the lemon sole to the chopped leaves stirred into the potato and whelk soup.
Almost everything used, from the Duralex glasses to the bonehandled knives, can be bought in the store. And the best table? The seating for 10 either side of the long bench in the middle of the kitchen, complete with a ringside view of Alastair working at the huge 1930s range. Priceless, especially if you don’t have your kitchen.
Next week: Running water…