The Bakery

There's a certain charm one expects to find in a country-side eatery, encapsulated precisely by the alluring mystery of The Bakery. Ensconced amidst leafy lanes, this establishment teeters between rustic comfort and woeful disarray. Upon arrival, we might face the invigorating challenge of finding an accessible entrance, akin to a cookery-based escape room. Even as you navigate that mystery, another delight waits – ambiance textured with mothball intimacy and walls displaying the creativity of three-year-old artful neglect. It's character-building stuff.

Then there’s the dining experience, it's as capricious as British weather. Occasionally, one is blessed with hearty celeriac soup and lip-smacking venison, delicate culinary works from the chef’s symphony. On those days, wine by the glass feels like nectar hand-served by cherubs. At other times, expect electrifying raw prawns or lamb too tough to star on local gardening shows. The aesthetic presentation of some dishes suggests that the chef carries an insecurity complex rivaling most Hollywood stars. Service? It unfurls its web ranging from delightful attentiveness to leaving one's bottled water as an unopened table fixture. Yet, despite all its comedic imperfections, there's something indelibly endearing about The Bakery. Rather like an old eccentric aunt, best enjoyed without expectation but always with affection. Here lies a tale as vibrant as the culinary landscape itself—a reminder of those bucolic gems which surprisingly remain, rightly unpolished. — Penelope Savory