“It’s a bit like the village in ‘Hot Fuzz’, only made up of holiday home-owners”. Perhaps not the best of first impressions of the tiny, typically-Devon village of Lympstone, yet it was nonetheless the location of our destination for the evening, Redwing Bar & Dining. Lympstone, for those who don’t know (and to be honest, that’s pretty much everyone – the place really is off the map, especially to students), is one train stop before Exmouth, and really shouts (well, more gently murmurs) “retirement” as soon as you get off the train.
Upon locating the ‘main road’ (I’m being generous), the village is essentially made up of cottages as far as you can see, decorated in such a way that made me think of a middle class decorating battle Royale: 'Cath Kidston vs. Farrow & Ball'.
You may think the point of this piece is just to construct the equivalent of a character assassination on this little village of Lympstone (“poor old Lympstone”, etc), but you would be wrong; in fact, the opening paragraph is merely there to highlight my amazement at what this place had in store for myself and three student friends. The purpose of our journey was to sample the culinary delights of the village’s newest gastronomic delight, Redwing Bar & Dining.
The cosy Inn is tucked away behind the corner of the main street in the village, but not in such a way that would tend to indicate mediocrity; in fact, if anything, its nonchalance would suggest aspirations aiming towards the ‘high-end gastro-pub’ part of the spectrum. Upon entering, this suspicion is confirmed, but in an entirely unexpected way; the bar area is full of bright furnishings, teamed with the classic bar-and-specials board combo, which together made for an unusually eye-catching, welcoming area. The atmosphere was unbelievably relaxed, made all-the-more enjoyable by the incredibly enthusiastic and friendly staff who came across really well – not in that annoying, over-complimentary kind of way; I got the sense they wanted to be here and genuinely were enjoying what they were doing. Upon being seated, we were treated to fresh bread with a light, salted butter (reminiscent of the kind you’d typically get in the States) which got us salivating for the prospect of the impending meal.
Now to the most important part – the food. There’s probably one thing I should get out of the way before I continue: I seriously love food. Not in that over-the-top ‘foodie’ way; simply, I love eating, and (attempting) cooking, good food. I certainly was not disappointed. We all skipped starters (student budget after all), but were enticed by the prospect of sea-food for mains. Myself and L both went for the local River Teign Mussels, in a classic cream and white wine sauce, which were plump and cooked to perfection. There was a good balance to the dish, because for many over-zealous cooks white wine ends up ruining a perfectly good sauce by forcing acidity to become the focal point of the dish. This was not the case, and as any sea-food lover knows, it is the perfect accompaniment to fresh mussels, allowing their subtle flavour to really come through and take charge of the dish. Perhaps the only low-light was the fact that a large proportion of them (perhaps a third) did not open, and whilst that is not the fault of the kitchen it was frustrating simply because the being teased by the prospect of inedible mussels is harrowing. J ordered the salmon and noodles, and N the seabass, and were both impressed by the lightness and freshness of dishes that have the potential to become far too heavy and dry.
Upon ordering dessert, it was an altogether more difficult decision for us all, simply because there was such a great choice of things to try. L and N went for the plum and vanilla bean crème brulee, and (under a self-created and wholly artificial pressure) I hedged my bets with the chocolate brownie and vanilla ice cream. I feel that I could have ordered anything from the dessert menu and been perfectly happy, so it pains me to write that the only let-down of the dish was that the vanilla ice cream wasn’t home-made. That aside, a perfectly cooked, almost-gooey chocolate brownie (nice and firm on the outside, slightly moist on the inside) with marbled chocolate shards and a warm chocolate sauce was a treat. In fact, I’m willing to forgive the bought ice cream because without it the dish wouldn’t have worked; it certainly needed the ice-cold, cleansing nature of an ice cream or sorbet to cut through the chocolatey goodness to stop it cloying at the top of my mouth. My fellow diners were even more impressed with their choice of brulee, which was like summer on a plate, with a fresh shortbread finger and two-tone fruit coulis, which reminded us all a little of rhubarb and custard sweets, making it a fun yet ‘grown up’ desert.
On our walk back to the train, I realised that this place could be a real gem. The food was fresh, seasonal and locally sourced (and affordable too – two courses for around £15), they had a great selection of drinks (including a Czech larger that J raved about) and an all-important atmosphere that balances welcome with intrigue. Sufficed to say it worked on us; we’re already planning our next trip back, and I would definitely encourage anyone who appreciates food to take the rickety train up to the toy town-esque village of Lympstone to sample the delights Redwing has to offer.
