Le Champignon Sauvage

Dinner for two - 14 November 2024

I would start by saying that this was what I consider to be one of the best meals of my life but someone got there before me.
So, all the while bearing in mind that this WAS one of the best meals of my life, I’ll continue this review in my own words rather than those of Jay Rayner.

David and Helen Everitt-Matthias are now well into their 37th year of providing care in the Cheltenham community. Happily, their efforts have been no secret from a much wider world for almost all of those years. You will find many and various sources of information about the beginnings of their creation, and its subsequent history.

Helen will greet you. She brings charm, wit, intelligence and an uncanny flexibility to accommodate each guest’s questions and requests.

The likes of Heston Blumenthal, Tom Kerridge and Pierre Koffmann have joined so many of David’s peers in sharing their respect and acclaim for his cooking and his inspiration. There are countless glowing reviews from seasoned restaurant critics and entranced guests.

I’ll describe our latest meal. As usual, you should treat my comments with the healthy notion that I remain an enthusiastic, if occasionally unreliable, source. Instead, you could just concentrate on my visual evidence here of the sort of food which only an utterly majestic kitchen is able to produce.*

Canapés (not illustrated)
Parmesan custard, chorizo dust
Tartlet of pouting, smoked mayonnaise, pickled pear

We have enjoyed these before and were in no way disappointed by a repeat visit.

Amuse
I have already waxed loudly and a little lyrically over on Instagram about the brilliantly conceived start to our meal. Concise, concentrated ‘cauliflower cheese’. Small? Yes. Perfectly formed? Most certainly.

Breads - all varieties on offer - continue to be irresistible.

Starter
Mrs G spread her formerly reluctant wings to embrace a fish dish as starter. Her reaction to the jus involved dreamy-eyed appreciation. It was the perfect, balancing undertow pulling together the elements of sea and earth.
I set to with the first of my all-meat choices. Like the bird itself, my partridge was firmly and honestly rooted to the ground, along with all its so-utterly appropriate autumnal partners. Heston Blumenthal would most likely have placed a trough of dry leaves under the table for feet to crunch into; the silly arse (delightfully crazy, ingenious silly arse - I continue to read his cookbooks with awe!).
A few days after our meal this ode by Keats popped out from my memory bank. David’s composition was the full expression of late autumn at its height, offering all the comfort needed against harsher winter chills. Poetry without words.

Surprise!
We had just tasted the first of our fresh, fruity, but delicately ‘crunchy’ wine choice when a generous off-menu dish was brought to our table.
No surprise at the generosity of this chef’s treat. An integral part of David doing as he pleases is firmly based on pleasing his guests.
Isle of Wight tomatoes are a lovely ingredient. Why muck about with them? Seconds in, this dish provided the answer to that question. Still not wholly sure of the full process, but I do remember Helen revealing the involvement of a molasses marinade. Suffice to say that the fruit was taken to a different soft, chewy place. Think Gummy Bears meet tomatoes in heaven. A ruddy delicious rendezvous.

Main
Our ninth visit here, and I had to check. No, I’ve never previously copied my wife in her favourite choice of lamb for a main course. Loin, shoulder, and that crunchy bit which, if you were carving at home you would tear off and nick for yourself, were all there. As was the constant background reminder of however many kilos of lamb bones had been roasted to form the beating heart of the gravy. A gravy so deep-dived in flavour that I would have very little problem if someone were to call it a jus.
Any suggestion that David is bound and restricted by his mastery of French cuisine and its cooking approach was contradicted regularly throughout our meal. However, his addition here of black olive and basil was an undoubted nod to his love of the country. A country to which we returned for the first time in four years in 2024. That black, fruity, quenelle transported me from my plate to Provence once again.

Duck was Mrs Cheoff’s main attraction/distraction. Plenty of fruity, earthy notes playing alongside the delicately rich fats of the meat.

Pre-dessert

A similar approach to that from my birthday meal here last year. Pic of that included to compensate for my capture of this year’s ‘collapsed’ version. Distracted by analysis, chatter, and a little under-the-table hand-holding, I managed to click the shutter rather late.
Lowering the temperature, but elevating texture and flavour to the penthouse.

Dessert

As usual, no let-up until service is well and truly over. Desserts here are things of beauty and utter joy in the eating and in the remembering.

Two totally different complexions of theme and flavours. Mrs Cheoff convinced me very quickly that she had made the right choice and I was happy to be offered some mini mouthfuls from around her plate.
The tropical slant of my dessert is one which I’ve recreated in some fashion from David’s cookbooks. Never with an attempt at a macaroon (only the far more complex macaron for me!). Macaroons were one of my long-gone dad’s favourites. Often cooked for him by my mum, I don’t think she would mind me thinking that chef’s effort was quite the equal of hers. I spent a sweet few moments surrounded by a mix of nostalgia and more great cooking.

So. A glorious climax. Mind you, long before this stage, we had joined the other diners bashing down our fists on the table with guttural shouts and eyes rolling, very much in tune with the actions of Meg Ryan in ‘When Harry Met Sally’. You must understand that this Cheltenham equivalent of appreciation is observed in a much quieter, rather more metaphorical but no less enthusiastic way. An open-mouthed hush but, here, with no faking it whatsoever.

Petits fours

Having paced ourselves to face this final challenge, we ate the lot - slowly and dreamily. Chef’s last chance to effortlessly and quietly show off his command of a menu from beginning to end. Coffee and my Armagnac did absolutely nothing to interfere with the moment.

In recent years, Michelin inspectors have failed to award two stars to the restaurant. They have chosen to do so without any explanation as to how they have altered their criteria to account for this. In fact, all available evidence suggests that their judgements remain based on the same foundations. Which embarrassingly cuts out any mystery, and unfortunately points to mild madness on the part of the over-inflated tyre company.

A fact which will do absolutely nothing to dull our appreciation of yet another memorable meal here.

*You got all the way here, and didn’t just look at the pictures?
THANK YOU!