Lilliput Farm Kitchen, Wick: 'Lilliput is ripe for Michelin Green Star pickings'
Run by a Masterchef Professionals alumnus, this converted barn is home to some impressive cooking and a lot of IKEA chopping boards
Language is constantly evolving. Every year new words are added to the dictionary and archaic ones removed. Technology and people push our diction forwards, whether we like the changes or not.
There is one change I do not like. It is a phrase that has been completely bastardised, used so frequently with utter disregard for its meaning that now I can’t say it unironically.
Hidden gem.
Once a useful descriptor of an under-appreciated eatery, the phrase is now ubiquitous in Instagram captions and attributed to everything from high street chain restaurants to cafes with queues out the door. The people who enjoy adulterating this phrase might not be the best option for a game of hide and seek.
I digress. My point is that when one lands on a genuine hidden gem, the phrase no longer has any meaning. So I shall have to explain.
Lilliput is a word coined in 1726 by Jonathan Swift in his book Gulliver’s Travels. It refers to a fictional island of which the inhabitants are approximately one twelfth of the size of humans. Since then ‘Lilliputian’ has been used to describe things that are tiny.
Lilliput is also a newly renovated barn restaurant half an hour from central Bristol. Though it is larger than its name might suggest, you’d be unlikely to come across it organically. A smart and contemporary building, its panoramic glass windows command the attention of the surrounding farmland and the view from inside is vast and peaceful.
Despite the fact that the head chef, Ieuan Davies, was on last year’s Masterchef The Professionals, Lilliput’s dishes have yet to be ravaged by ring lights or descended on by diners who were #invited.
So for now, Lilliput is at least hidden. But is it worth seeking out?
The first sip of a peerless negroni (£9) would suggest so, but we didn’t come all the way to Pennsylvania for thin slices of white bloomer (£5) and lilliputian amounts of butter on an IKEA chopping board.
We came for lasagne croquettes (£10). If we ever get to the Black-Mirror-meets-reality moment where we can read each others thoughts, you would witness an explosion of fireworks in mine upon hearing that phrase. Layers of meat, cheese and pasta; one of my favourite things to eat. Coated in breadcrumbs and deep fried? Surely even better.
For some evolutionary scientists, the definition of success is how many times a gene sequence is replicated. According to this model, ants are the most successful animal. In food I am sorry to say it would probably be the Big Mac (though I don’t want to add any more fuel to Grace Dent’s dumpster fire). In their current form, the lasagne croquettes at Lilliput are unlikely to be particularly successful by this definition, or indeed any other.
We did not fight over the third nugget, as we had been disappointed to find the first two stuffed full of potato which has no place in a lasagne. The tinned tomatoes they were served on did little to improve the situation. Great concept, poor execution.
If, like me, you chart the seasons in produce, you will understand the joy of spring, bringing asparagus and wild garlic, which made for an invigorating combination with a breadcrumbed egg and peas (£10). It was only missing a touch of fresh mint to make it a perfect ten.
When I go to restaurants I write notes. ‘Sausage roll (£5) undercooked pastry but impressive filling - beef, interesting’; is symptomatic of Lilliput.
I write on my phone of course - you’d have to be a right so and so to go in with a notebook and pen. The whole point of a restaurant review is that they don’t know you are reviewing so the service and the food you receive is the same as it would be for anyone else. At least that’s how it should be - those who rehearse the phrase hidden gem like they’re a scratched CD might argue otherwise.
‘Cauliflower steak (£19) beige, needs some salsa verde or chimichurri. Pickled fried onion rings clever but not acidic enough to cut through’ tells the same story - that many of the menu items are aspirational but have yet to quite reach the heights that will pull people this far out into the sticks.
The fish of the day (£26) on this particular Saturday is probably also the dish of the day, pan seared hake in a Thai green curry broth with mussels and leeks. It’s not without flaws, the mussels dawdle in the mouth too long - overcooked, but the rest of the composition is stunning. As it should be for £26.
Deconstructed desserts are having a bit of a renaissance. Funny that the next stage in the evolution of a dessert is taking it apart again. Usually I’m not such a fan; it strikes me as lazy - but the various elements at Lilliput had been helpfully piled on top of one another so the difference between this rhubarb and white chocolate assembly (£9.50) and a constructed cheesecake was negligible. I expect deconstruction will be a hot topic among the cheesecakes at the annual cheesecake convention this year; the more traditional desserts will be furious that this one has managed to outdo them so effortlessly despite looking like little more than curls of cream on broken biscuits. I’m no longer allowed to use the word commendable - I use it too much, I too must evolve - this was worthy of applause.
We’ve been instructed that we must come back to Lilliput when they’ve got one of their grass fed organic Herefords in. I think we will at some point, we don’t usually need much persuading. It’s a beautiful restaurant after all.
If it does well, Lilliput is ripe for Michelin Green Star pickings. But it is hard to get people to drive for their dinner, which is ironic given that this was the initial premise of the Michelin Guide. It is absolutely doable - look at Ynyshir - but the food has to be nigh on flawless. And at Lilliput it is not, yet. But it is hidden and I’ve no doubt that with a few more iterations, genetic mutations and perhaps some written recognition it will become a gem that food lovers from Bristol, Bath and further afield will seek out.
Words and photos by Meg Houghton-Gilmour
Lilliput Farm Kitchen, Toghill Barns, London Road, Wick, BS30 5RU
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