Buttery Cafe

Charming Garden Respite Every Visit

Nestled in the charming hills, Burgh House remains a beloved weekend refuge, appealing not just for its elegant geographical poetry but for the enchanting oasis of calm found within its garden walls. Entering the house is akin to stepping back in time; visitors are greeted by timeless portraits hanging gracefully on aged walls and rooms that seem to whisper secrets from bygone eras. Beyond these rustic charms, the café has historically been a comforting retreat where listeners of lark song can dine amid dappled sunlit foliage. My latest visit, however, sadly deviated from these usually idyllic experiences. The spirit of tranquility remained unblemished, yet the culinary offerings stumbled slightly.

Having eased into our seats overlooking the lush garden vista, I opted for the soup and salad — a supposedly harmonizing note that unfortunately fell flat. The soup was an uninspired medley of flavors about as thrilling as reading a blank page, and the simplistic handful of rocket accompanying it seemed more decorative than dietary. In a similar confounding dialect was the goat cheese salad: a sparse assembly flanked with chicory and walnuts, overshadowing potential with a glaring omission of dressing, as if it were conspiring to sap joy from the dish. Such brevity in quality felt startlingly at odds with my tranquilly marinated senses and underscored by the poignant £29 bill. Granted, the slip in standards could be just an unfortunate blip in their stride. While time will be the true corrective, for now, it seems this culinary miniature might benefit from a richer palette to match the poetry of its setting. — Clarissa Cuisinier