Tillingham, Peamarsh, East Sussex: ‘Not much cooking was going on’ – restaurant review

Tillingham is essentially a natural biodynamic wine production business working over 70 acres of gently rolling countryside, near Rye and the Romney Marshes in East Sussex. If only their main trouble was making bottles of chardonnay and pinot blanc, or selling pretty Tillingham tea towels at £36 a pop. But no, Tillingham has (quite literally) many other plates to juggle: it has a fancy restaurant and a vast barn from which they serve pizza, too.

There’s also the option to stay over in bell tents, no less, if posh hen weekends or corporate bonding sessions are required. Or in bricks-and-mortar rooms with actual plumbing, if the tent’s compost toilet is not for you. If all this isn’t distracting enough, much of Tillingham’s workforce must be drained dealing with its frequent wine tours; wine experts plod groups of natural wine buffs around the sheds, talking lovingly of clay vessel spontaneous fermentation and how nettle tea aids vine health. All that while handing out samples of natural wine, which naysayers might find quite challenging, if not verging on abrasive.

The ‘prettily arrranged’ citrus-cured halibut, at Tillingham’s restaurant.

Natural wine is, of course, wildly polarising. What everyone loves, however, is dinner, which is why Tillingham’s huge, formal restaurant overlooking breathtakingly pretty countryside should be its biggest draw. The Sunday feast, for example, has three courses for £45. The short menu, on first inspection, sounds lovely and locally sourced: braised Morebread Farm lamb, Beal’s Farm salami, house-made focaccia and baked cheesecake with poached rhubarb. The vast room was empty when we arrived, although several chefs seemed to be hard at work in the open kitchen, while serving staff hovered around the floor. So far, so good.

However, as the meal began, it transpired that not a terrible amount of cooking was going on and, more pressingly, no one on the floor seemed to be in charge or trained to work in a semi-formal restaurant. The amateur-hour shtick of Tillingham’s service could be seen as endearing – our drink order, for example, was taken with no mention of the wine that was being made all of 100m away.

Tillingham’s lobster linguine with a ‘good, rich, slightly piquant, glossy tomato sauce’.

It was midday on Sunday and the fresh focaccia from the sharing section of the menu had definitely seen brighter, crisper days. Let’s call that day Saturday. The other “sharing items” were cashews and olives, which would hardly have made chef break a sweat. A starter of citrus-cured halibut with fennel, orange salad and wood sorrel was prettily arranged – in a fancy, wedding-breakfast, mass-catering way – but lacked any discernible zing. Another starter was courgette velouté with more of that stale focaccia.

At this juncture, a visit to the ladies’ room led me to discover a small chalkboard, at skirting-board level, alerting diners to the veg from nearby fields that had been picked and was being served today. Tillingham’s restaurant seems determined to hide its light under a bushel. The main courses were the stars of the show: lobster linguine came topped with half a native lobster, with a good, rich, slightly piquant, glossy tomato sauce. The lobster meat was well judged, drenched in garlic butter and impossible not to love. Lamb chop was accompanied by crispy lamb and garlic puree and a complex rosemary jus. Another main of nicely cooked skate wing with brown shrimp sported a delightful beurre noisette. We saw some great cooking here, and sumptuous sides of heritage tomatoes and broccoli chargrilled with honey glaze were further clues that we were eating farm to fork.

Tillingham’s rhubarb cheesecake comes ‘titivated with petals’.

Still, this is a restaurant that seems to be currently working to a fraction of its potential; the desserts were a choice of a spin on Eton mess, some cheese and crackers, plus that baked rhubarb cheesecake, which we chose, hoping for something Basque-ish, burnished and wobbling. Instead, it was something clearly pre-made, with a digestive biscuit base, piped with rhubarb gel and titivated with petals. So many cooks, not a great deal of cooking. Wine, wine everywhere and not a drop of it mentioned to drink. We left, and skipped the gift shop for keepsakes, because there was very little here to remember.

• Tillingham Dew Farm, Dew Lane, Peasmarsh, East Sussex, 01797 208226. Open lunch, Fri-Sun noon-2pm, dinner Wed-Sun 6-8pm. Set lunch £35 for two courses, £40 for three; set Sun lunch £40 for two courses, £45 for three; à la carte dinner, from about £55 a head, all plus drinks and service.

• The next episode of Grace’s Comfort Eating podcast is out on Tuesday 16 September – listen to it here.