Mingo.Life

Help, it appears I’ve accidentally become a restaurant reviewer. Not intentionally, mind you—I just like eating, drinking, and writing about it in a way that makes me sound like I know what I’m talking about. My previous review of “The Land of Freedom” in Correlajo, Fuerteventura is still one of our most-read blog posts, which means either people really value my opinion or they were Googling something else entirely and ended up there by mistake. So, whilst I may feel like a man who took a wrong turn into a Michelin-starred kitchen and decided to stay for the free bread, please join me in reviewing fine wine, fine food and a very hearty good old English atmosphere. Credit to Jennifer Jane Photography for the featured image.

This year for valentine’s weekend, I took my wife on a nostalgia trip back to where it all began: our wedding venue. The Deer Park Hotel—a Grade II listed country house nestled in the Devon countryside—which was where, ten years ago, I stood in front of a room full of people, shaking like a leaf, and delivered a speech I’d rewritten 5000 times. Later that night, my dad—dressed in a giant inflatable sumo suit—joined us for the Harlem Shake just after our first dance. Obviously.

Fast forward a decade, and it turns out that when the venue isn’t accommodating freshly married couples, it moonlights as a fine-dining experience called Grapevine Evenings. The deal? About £75 a head for a four – to five-course meal, each dish paired with a different wine that’s so far removed from your average bottle of I Heart Rosé it might as well require a passport. The food is exceptional, the dress code is sharp, and the atmosphere is one of effortless class. Naturally, as a young(ish) lad who grew up on a council estate, I arrived and fully expected someone to tap me on the shoulder and politely inform me I didn’t belong…

But that’s the thing about places like this—they make you forget. Between the atmospheric lighting, the carefully selected wine, and the kind of food that makes you question everything you’ve ever eaten before, you start to believe, just for a moment, that this is your world too. The to-do lists, the nappy changes and the lingering thoughts of the week’s stress melt away as the staff offer to take your coat and expertly pour you a welcome drink.

Without wishing to just sound like an advert, allow me to explain why this particular evening was important to me. You see, this visit was long overdue. I originally booked us to attend a similar Grapevine Evening almost two years ago as a birthday present to Emma. What would fate do with our plans? Well, the very next day we were staring at a positive pregnancy test as our second child came thundering into the world with reckless abandon. We never got to go. It was almost serendipitous, then, that we would eventually find ourselves here 10 years after we’d married. It was an especially welcome experience, given recent stressful events in our personal and professional lives.

ARRIVAL: Canapés & Prosecco

Rather unbelievably, we were the first to arrive. This never happens. I’m usually the one rushing in late, slightly out of breath and rattling off apologies.. But tonight, things were different. We’d scrubbed up nicely, strolled in like we did this sort of thing all the time, and were immediately handed a chilled glass of Cordorniu Brut. (Actually, I had two—would’ve been rude not to.)

As we sipped, elegant little canapés made their way around the room, each one trying to outdo the last. A fresh tomato bruschetta landed in my hand as we wandered, admiring the eclectic art scattered throughout the building. And then, an unexpected masterpiece—a signed Superman III poster, autographed by Christopher Reeve himself, proudly displayed in the gents’ bathroom. While I was there, I also discovered my latest obsession: their hand lotion. My God, it smelled incredible. I made a mental note to find out what it was so I could bathe in it.

Another round of canapés drifted past, and purely by coincidence (I swear), I happened to be standing in just the right spot near the kitchen when a black pudding sausage roll arrived. One bite, and my taste buds started composing a thank-you letter. Lovely. Compliments to the kitchen from a guy who would otherwise have actively avoided anything black pudding related.

THE STARTER: Steamed short rib suet pudding with truffled celeriac

So, it was time to follow the seating plan and find our cosy table for two in the conservatory room. The first course arrived in what felt like no time at all. It was served with a White; Chateau de Cruzea Pessac-Leognan, Bordeaux France.

The tasting notes are handed to us, adding a touch of sophistication to the evening. The wine is described as “Lemon-meringue and biscuit aromas lead to a very smooth and flavourful palate that has plenty of drinkable appeal.” I couldn’t agree more. Exceptionally drinkable. In fact, I’d quite like to add a bottle to our wine rack at home—though let’s be honest, it wouldn’t last long enough to gather dust. Deer Park, if you’re reading this, please help me relieve you of your excess supply of this fine white.

As mentioned, the point of the whole evening is that each dish comes with a carefully considered wine pairing, complete with notes to make us feel like we truly understand what we’re drinking. The Bordeaux, we’re told, “stands up to a wintery starter, its fresh acidity and aromatics cutting through the fatty suet and short rib, while its oaky backbone carries it through the intensity of truffle and the richness of the dish.” Which is a very elegant way of saying, “Don’t worry, this wine can handle it.” And, it did.

Now, suet as a starter was certainly a choice—rich, fatty, and the kind of thing that makes you reconsider your long-term cardiovascular health. But did it work? Actually, yes. I’ll eat rib in any format, from slow-cooked to stolen off someone else’s plate, so they had me from the word go. And truffle? Well, if you’re going to embrace indulgence, you might as well go all in. I inhaled it happily, then suddenly remembered I had another three courses to get through. It was delicious, if a little filling.

As Emma and I settled in, the wine flowed, and our conversation took its usual turn into the absurd. We covered everything from how the venue had changed over the years, to the merits of heavy metal and who would be the best Download Festival headliner next year. One of the perks of being a little bit weird is that you never quite run out of things to talk about.

THE INTERMEDIATE: Seared fillet of brill, ragout of mussels, clams and potatoes, lemon oil and chives

The wine for this course simply had to be a white. Serving anything other than White Wine with fish should, frankly, be illegal in most civilized nations. This particular white had a personality all of its own, though. Enter: Esk Valley Alberino, Hawkes Bay, New Zealand. Described as “revealing classic Albariño notes of lime, peach, and an assortment of tropical fruits, full and rich with mouth-watering acidity providing length and deliciousness, its palate weight enhanced by ageing on yeast lees.”

In other words, it was fancy, fresh, and dangerously drinkable. We certainly enjoyed the length and after-taste of this delicious wine, and it proved to be Emma’s favourite with her, and me to be honest, eagerly clamouring for another glass at the end of the evening.

The meal tasting notes suggest that this New Zealand wine boasts, “freshness and complexity of the Spanish variety, but with elevated tropical notes and nice body to handle the weight of the food”. Emma enjoyed me reading the wine tasting notes in my best middle England “posh” accent, before we tucked in to the fish. Lazlo would be proud.

The brill was… well, brill. Yes, I made the joke. No, I’m not sorry. The ragout of mussels was equally excellent, though the clams seemed to be having an off day. Fortunately, the rest of the dish carried them like a generous group project partner, and the lemon oil tied everything together nicely.

As we sipped and savoured, the conversation meandered through the usual range of topics—love in all its forms, the bizarre rituals of Valentine’s weekend, and, inevitably, the kids. Because, as any parent knows, the true hallmark of a night off is spending half of it talking about the tiny humans you’re supposed to be taking a break from.

THE MAIN COURSE: Roast rump of lamb, braised neck fillet, new potato fondant, wild garlic puree

Time for the main event! Lamb and red wine—a pairing as timeless as fish and chips, gin and tonic, or parents and exhaustion. Tonight’s red star was a Glorioso Gran Reserva Rioja from Spain, described with the kind of poetic flair usually reserved for love letters: “Intense and elegant blueberries and red forest fruits, with delicate aromas of menthol and cedar from its French oak aging, finished with a mineral touch for personality. Dense, well-balanced, with fine, polished tannins and a long finish.”

Or, in simpler terms: very nice wine, would drink again.

And drink again we did. Emma, not typically a red wine enthusiast, broke character entirely and asked for more. By this point, we were at least one and a half sheets to the wind, fully carefree, and having an objectively excellent time.

The lamb arrived, and it was clear this was no ordinary Sunday roast. Cooked with the kind of care that suggests the chef truly loves their job, it was rich, tender, and absolutely spot on. The tasting notes promised that this wine was “powerful and intense, the ultimate match to elevate the main course.” And elevate it did.

I’d never eaten lamb neck before, but after this, I’ll be tracking it down like a man on a mission. It was melt-in-the-mouth perfect, and just when I thought things couldn’t get better, the garlic purée was unearthed by my fork. Emma makes a mean garlic purée at home, and given my enthusiasm for it, I can confidently confirm I am not a vampire. I scooped up every last bite and sat back, fully satisfied.

At this point, the conversation became a happy blur of wine and food-induced joy—half-mumbled praise between mouthfuls, excitement about future plans, and, naturally, a deep debate about why Superman III had been relegated to the gentleman’s bathroom. Speaking of which, it was oddly comforting chatting with Christopher Reeve in there. Him, and the other lovely gentleman who claimed to know the hotel owner and proudly announced to me that he attends every single Grapevine evening or wine-based event at the hotel.

Now that is living the dream.

DESSERT: Egg custard tart with rhubarb sobert

I’ve never in my life eaten an egg custard tart before this moment, so it was with curious hesitation I grabbed my cutlery after the kind waitress delivered the final dish and, with a knowing wink, declared this to be her favourite part of the meal. The wine paired with it was a superb dessert wine, Petit Guiraud, from Sauternes, France. The description read, “Airy, delicate, and very zesty fresh with notes of lemon, dried apricot, and pink grapefruit. This wine is pure indulgence for totally uninhibited drinking.” So uninhibited, in fact, I ended up asking for seconds.

The tasting notes assured us this was “an elegant way to finish the meal” and that the wine’s “lusciously sweet” nature would “sing with the egg custard.” And boy, did it sing. It was delicious—sweet, satisfying, and the perfect finale. At this point, words were unnecessary as Emma and I exchanged wide-eyed glances while our forks or spoons danced around the dish in a state of pure joy. The flavours harmonized so well that, for once, there was truly room for Pud. That is a thumbs up from us on this course.

After the meal, we retired to the front of house, where I met a young mixologist who was clearly in his element. As a self-proclaimed cocktail enthusiast (yes, I do have a cocktail-making Instagram—don’t judge), I may have gotten a little too into it and started drunkenly rattling off terms like “angostura bitters” and “demerara sugar”. In response, he coolly and expertly crafted an Espresso Martini followed by a sublime Old Fashioned.

We then bumped into a charming Canadian man whose daughter was getting married at The Deer Park later that year. Between a few more drinks and some hearty conversation, it was time to call it a night. Off we went, back to the comfort of a pint of water and a bed that felt far more luxurious than it had any right to after such a memorable evening.

Overall, the meal was excellent. It lived up to every expectation. No, we didn’t leave hungry, and yes, we were completely and utterly satisfied. The only minor hiccup? The fish intermediate course, which was slightly let down by a rogue clam that was just a bit too chewy. But honestly, I had to dig deep to find that flaw—every other detail was spot on.

Each wine was as drinkable as the last, so whether you’re a red, white, or rosé person, they have you covered. Every course was a hit, but the true highlights for me were the lamb and the egg custard tart. Both had me so delighted I was practically licking the plate with joy—though I hear that’s frowned upon in polite company.

We would absolutely go back for another Grapevine Evening in a heartbeat, and I highly recommend anyone reading this to book in for the experience. People travel from far and wide to attend this, and we are so lucky to have it on our doorstep in the beautiful East Devon Countryside. Anyway, that’s enough waffling from me. I’m off to buy red wine and lamb neck. Toodles!