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I was once treated to dinner in a restaurant that
Nico Ladenis had put his name to. No evidence of
Ladenis, and I was singularly unimpressed with the
food. So when I heard that Marco Pierre White
had taken over the Chequers Inn in Maresfield
(pretty S<strong>us</strong>sex village, erstwhile home to Jordan
and Peter Andre) frankly I was cynical.
So when we sit in the restaurant on a weekday
lunchtime and spot the man himself holding court
in the bar, I feel I have done him a disservice. The
whiff of testosterone is evident from twenty paces.
There are many framed cartoons on the walls of
this ‘eating and drinking ho<strong>us</strong>e’, and we’ve j<strong>us</strong>t
walked past one featuring him wielding a machete.
My companion mutters something about ‘not
being sure the light is right’ to take photographs of
the food, but I give him a stern look. We’re not to
be afraid of the big bad chef.
The Chequers Inn has been called a gastro-pub,
but that’s not right. The large garden and terrace
at the rear is pubby, but inside, it feels more like a
Gentleman’s Club. There are wood-panelled walls
and the restaurant has starchy tablecloths. The
food is butch, with lots of fish and meat, including
devilled lamb’s kidneys, rib-eye steak and pressed
calf tongue, but not much by way of vegetables.
The table d’hôte seems a reasonable £15.90 for
two courses, £19.90 for three.
My companion orders a ‘very good’ glass of
Laulerie Merlot (£5.50) to steady his nerves, and
opts for the à la carte ‘Marco Pork Belly’ (£14.50).
I order salt marsh lamb (£15.50). Several things
w w w. V I VA l E w E s . C o M
The cheqUers iNN
Marco pierre White’s new place
F o o D
photos: Rob Read
pleasantly surprise me. The staff are superb in an
understated, competent way. It’s not a place that
rips you off with the small stuff, with a large bottle
of mineral water at £3.50 and coffee only £2.
Our food arrives with marvello<strong>us</strong>ly savoury
aromas. The meat is evidently superbly sourced
and cooked, with sufficient fat to keep it succulent.
The pork, that has been braised with honey and
star anise, is served over butter beans that look
like pebbles, and topped with a criss-cross of
magnificent crackling shards.
My tender, salty and delicio<strong>us</strong> slices of lamb come
with a circular portion of exemplary tender and
delicio<strong>us</strong> potato gratin dauphinoise and a puddle
of deep brown j<strong>us</strong>.
We finish with coffee and I order a Sherry Trifle
Wally Lad, named, we’re told, for the London
chef who invented it. It’s a thing of beauty – a glass
topped with c<strong>us</strong>tard, cream, pistachio and almond,
over the top of striped layers of pink sponge and
purple black cherry jam, like the socks of Pippi
Longstocking. For a man who said he ‘didn’t like
trifle’, my companion manages to eat a remarkably
large amount of it, pronouncing it ‘l<strong>us</strong>cio<strong>us</strong>,
unctuo<strong>us</strong> and toothsome’.
As I pay the bill, I look up with a start to see Marco
Pierre White again, sweeping into the dining
room. Far from breathing fire, he smiles pleasantly
and checks with the table next to <strong>us</strong> if the diners
are enjoying their food. Very much, I imagine if
ours was anything to go by. Emma Chaplin
The Chequers Inn, Maresfield, 01825 763843
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