Dinner / £££ / 10/10

For The Northerners birthday in March I booked us into The Martins Arms for a meal and night away, it was a much needed break for both of us so when the toddler came home from nursery riddled with hand, foot and mouth we had to reschedule the whole shebang. Fast forward to the middle of May the sun was shining and FINALLY the time had come again. And no one was ill. The pub was taken over by Laurence Henry (of Masterchef – The Professionals fame) at the end of last year.

Upon arrival I felt very fortunate for the misery of hand , foot and mouth. The booking change meant we arrived on a warm, sunny late afternoon as the garden was filling up with families, dog walkers and couples. The outdoor area is the best I have seen in Nottinghamshire despite it being in the middle of a renovation. A blend of the old and the new and full of bucolic splendour. I had a choice of champagne, cava or cremant and I think I came close to my definition of ‘bliss’ sitting in the sunshine, drinking a very cold, very dry sparkling wine.

As the sun began to fade we made our way to the bar to have one more drink before our table was ready. It was reassuringly busy in the restaurant and bar and after a short wait we went to our table. For the purpose of this review I am only going to cover the dinner element but if you want a great pub with rooms I cannot recommend this place more highly. I slept like someone elses baby. As we were reviewing the menu a scotch egg was carried across the pub and The Northerner decided he was having one. And a starter.

The Scotch Egg arrived first with a generous portion of piccalilli. Warm and runny it was a triumph and a great start to the meal with confident seasoning in the pork meat. My smoked salmon portion was massive, dotted with creme fraiche, capers and a lemon gel, with a side of bread and a perfect quenelle of butter. What was a delicious and light start to my meal was favourably contrasted by the depth of flavour in the smoky ham and pea soup. The soup was a middle-weight veloute, not so light as to evaporate from the palate as soon as you ate it but with perfect smooth texture. Both dishes were SO GOOD.

I had the Sea Trout for main course. It was faultless, the fish cooked perfectly and so full of flavour I was mentally reminding myself to order sea trout more often which is doing the chef a complete disservice. Complimented so beautifully with the duo of champagne sauce and hollandaise, the balls of roe burst through any attempts the dish had to become overly rich with salty aplomb.

While struggling to choose from the menu earlier The Northerner had asked what the pie of the day was to be told it had sold out. When our waiter noticed The Northerners face fall he said he’d ask the kitchen if there were any more left and returned a minute later announcing there was one left. The Northerner did a little (sat down) shimmy and his mind was made up. When it arrived I was so pleased; “THAT is how a Pithivier is meant to look” I reassured him after our experience at Skein.

As The Northerner cut into the pie steam rose out of it and his whole dish continued in this vein for the next 15 minutes – it became the running joke of the meal that it was apolocalyptically hot but so tasty neither of us waited for it to cool down. The pie filling was a mixture of a slow cooked steak and mince which had a really different texture. Not unpleasant, but a bit of a surprise. The stereotype of Northerners loving pies is a bit tired but this definitely restored his faith in the East Midlands a little so I owe the kitchen a big thank you for that alone.

When the dessert menu arrived I really tried to order something else, the fact I have sticky toffee pudding whenever it is on the menu is becoming the blight of this blog. That being said as the temperature had dropped and the dining room twinkled in the dark I wanted something warm and comforting so here we are. After The Northerner had asked for 2 spoons they bought us what looked like a double portion and I knew this would be the nail in the coffin, we were going to be rolled out of there. As the sugar hit our blood stream the sticky toffee pudding defeated us at the half way mark.

The Martins Arms and that meal have redefined how GOOD a pub in the countryside can be for me and I feel so lucky it is on our doorstep (well a 12 minute drive). Book a table the next time you feel a bit disillusioned by the general state of this country (from looking at a local facebook group/trying to book a dr’s appointment/catching any form of public transport), you won’t regret it.