What better way to say au revoir to 2015 than by being beside the sea side, pottering around the cobbled streets of St Ives: dodging the persistently pelting precipitation.
The continual torrent of rain and blustering gusts ensured that our bikes lay dry on the back seats of the car rather than upright , tackling the hills and coastlines as (rather optimistically) intended. Instead of being active, we had to give in to the weather and become holiday slobs.
The continual torrent of rain and blustering gusts ensured that our bikes lay dry on the back seats of the car rather than upright , tackling the hills and coastlines as (rather optimistically) intended. Instead of being active, we had to give in to the weather and become holiday slobs.
Sometimes you just have to admit defeat and enjoy doing nothing much at all.
During an amble along a backstreet (St Andrew's Street) on our first day, we saw a blackboard with dates written on it, beside what looked like a residential house. Pinned to the inside of window was a menu and more details about Hidden Kitchen and Dining.
I took down the contact details. Most of the month's supper clubs were crossed through with red chalk pen (fully booked), which we thought had to be a good sign. Luckily there were a few spaces for January 1st, so I hastily called to book.
Hidden Kitchen was my first supper club experience. If I was shy (like I had been in adolescence), it might have been a nightmare. All 17 guests seemed to arrive at once, and we were thrown into a cosy, well presented reception room - promptly offered champagne and canapés by the hostess and her assistant.
There was one instantly obvious character in the room (Ray) who could have been mistaken for the host - he had a demeanor that reeked of confidence mixed with curiosity. It soon became clear that his wife (Mags) would also be fighting for the top dog 'character' position. They batted their seemingly innocent marital banter around like a scene from Abigail's Party.
I am by no means dissing Ray and Mags. They were very amusing and helped break the ice: without them, we may not have partaken in much pre-dinner mingling.
Turned out that Ray and Mags were from Harrow, but had a second home in St Ives (the old Post Office), and about 8 of our party were their house guests. The whole gang had a mischievous rapport that, (for the prudish) might have bordered on vulgar. They liked a drink too, so only continued to get brasher and more innuendo-driven as the night progressed.
Tim and I are used to eccentrics, so this behaviour was no bother to us. The remainder of the party (a Brummie family of 5), arrived late, with no time to spare for the pre-dinner mingling. They sat together at one end of the gargantuan table - but although they seemed a smidgen fish-out-of-water at first, they soon began to embrace the high-jinx.
I happily ogled the delightful dining room furnishings and interior design as our starter was served (a post-dinner chat with chef James revealed that the vintage chairs were all Danish, bought on Ebay. James took pride in telling me about his cunning money-saving trick of matching a midnight blue Farrow & Ball paint colour at B&Q.)
The banquet style table (which seats up to 20), was gloriously rustic, cut from what looked like one giant piece of wood - complete with nobly bark edging all the way along both sides. James selects work from local artists to adorn the walls - these change seasonally and are all for sale.
James came out to introduce each course, which was an intimate gesture that added to this type of bespoke dining experience.
Our main course was superb: herb crusted salmon, risotto of parmesan and rocket with a generous splash of salsa verde. Massive platters of garlic green beans and roasted peppers provided a gorgeous buttery accompaniment.
Fixed menus are perfect for indecisive people like me.
The wine and conversation cracked on fiercely: there were some very interesting people in the mix. Plus everyone had one binding commonality: our love of St Ives. St Ives in the winter, St Ives in the summer, the conflict between second home owners and the locals - we covered all the bases. Although Tim was sat by my side, we barely spoke to each other all night!
Ray and Mags swapped places just before dessert: I think perhaps they were worried about missing out on some juicy gossip at the other end(s) of the table. Mags moved in opposite me - she wanted to know everything. It was hard to avoid her eyes and questions. She's a teacher, so I guess she's used to being domineering and driving debate. Very sweet though - bags of character. She reminded me of Dorothy Parker in her latter years: slim, keen drinker, inquisitive, serious bob.
Dessert was a scrumptious orange infused Tiramisu. Rich but not too filling, a zingy finish to a delightful evening.
James and his wife Georgina (the evening's true host) mingled with us as we collected wet weather gear and braced ourselves for the first big rain storm of 2016.
What a lovely couple. From a post-Cornwall gander at their website - it becomes clear that these two are no strangers to hosting intimate and luxurious dinner dos. They have a history of hosting Alpine chalet dining experiences for VIP guests.
It's obvious they know their stuff. Their hosting approach is my favourite type: relaxed and attentive (in an inconspicuous way).
Good luck to them - I hope Hidden Kitchen continues to thrive.
They're doing something new in a coastal town steeped in a multitude of steadfast traditions. But times are changing and I'd advise anyone heading down that way to give it a whirl.
Going to a supper club might mean stepping out of your comfort zone briefly, but I can assure you: without noticing it, you'll be gently nudged back in... you may even have some new friends come the end of the evening.
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