Ian Crammond
Google
Everything about Damson shows an attention to the smallest detail that is rare in new restaurants (it is just now a year old). This applies to the exquisitely converted building as much as to the exciting food and calm, assured service. On our first lunchtime visit, the vividly green-hued dining room was hushed, but we could imagine a satisfied buzz from diners at a full evening service. Even then, this will not be a loud room, with just thirty or so covers.
Damson is very clearly the passion project of a well-trained young chef, Henry Kremer-Ireson, with the skills, vision and interest in flavour to deliver “casual fine dining” (the ‘casual’ part here is the village pub setting, and not as can often be the case the food). It’s a young team, numbering six on our visit, and they worked quietly, calmly and efficiently throughout, from our initial greeting, through the assured recommendations of the “wine-whisperer” to the parting, during which we chatted to the chef across the counter as he made ox cheek ravioli for the evening service. These folk are unassuming and good. Everywhere you look, there is a lot of work. And all of it is clearly devoted to giving customers an excellent food experience.
It starts with the building. The front garden is filled, not with money-making tables, but with raised kitchen beds, where small herbs and vegetables are grown. Behind the building, a properly made and good-sized private car park rises, with well-lit steps leading down from its far reaches to ground level. The immaculate loos are replete with Aesop toiletries. It all just works.
The good vibes continue with comfortable chairs, Inox cutlery and excellent glasses. No corners were cut in creating Damson. And neither are they in creating its food. Immaculate and entirely adequate portions (you will leave here replete, not stuffed) of finely conceived starters led the way. My mushroom risotto had seemingly collided with an ouef en murette on the way to the table, to everyone’s benefit. Tiny, tasty mushrooms, a rich sauce bourguignon, al dente rice, a confit egg, crunchy radicchio, slivers of celery and a dusting of Wigmore cheese gave layer upon layer of taste to a small appetising plate. Some beginning. Across the table, cod beignets were pronounced light and tasty. As the driver, I chose a flight of non-alcoholic drinks based on kombucha, rooibos tea, and more, some made in-house, and enjoyed a further exploration of tastes that perfectly matched the food.
Mains were more straightforward, but my ‘scratch’ partridge, subbed for a vanished pheasant, came neatly served off the bone, accompanied by a large carrot and a pleasingly subtle sauce blanquette that did not overwhelm the meat. The large carrot and a side of broccoli could both have taken just a little more cooking, but that was the only off-note for me. One companion found the pheasant underhung and a rather small accompanying dollop of swede bland in colour and too salty – I thought the saltiness fine. Our third taster enjoyed her well-cooked piece of haddock with brassicas and a cider sauce. Both wine drinkers enjoyed their suggested Californian Pinot Noir, lightly chilled, with pheasant and fish alike.
The excitement ratcheted up again with dessert. A “best-ever” Sticky Toffee Pudding seemed unadventurous by description. Still, the sesame tuile interposed between pudding and ice cream added texture and flavour, while the pudding itself was light, unctuous, and richly flavoured. My autumn trifle featured cranberries for tartness, hazelnuts for crunch and, surprisingly, pumpkin for sweetness. I can’t tell you much more about it because it disappeared so quickly. Best of all was the unexpected combination of a spiced celeriac mousse, salted oats and clementine pieces. This was inspired and received full marks.
We will return; we had a delightful time at Damson. As, I hope, will you.
