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A Note from Sam

This week’s review reminded me about my start as a chef.

At university I shared a house with an incredible cook named Laura (who now owns a lovely cafe in Worthing). Every day, Laura cooked us breakfast, lunch, dinner and many a midnight snack. However, she was always telling us boys to clean up after ourselves. As young men who were content to wallow in our own filth, we found this both annoying and unnecessary.

We decided we’d move out and get our own place. There, nobody told us to clean up – which we soon discovered was not a positive – and worse, the food was dire.

So, I decided I would learn how to cook. (It would take another decade for me to learn how to clean).

I quickly fell in love with it. By the time I finished my degree I was consumed by cooking, and got a job in a pub kitchen to start my career as a chef. I was excited at the prospect of spending my days surrounded by people who felt the same way about food as I did.

What a rude awakening.

The Head Chef was a foodie – a beautiful and terrifying Russian woman who could be both nurturing and tempestuous from one second to the next. But most of the other cooks did not care. They cut corners when she wasn’t looking, sent out food they hadn’t tasted and had no real interest in their jobs.

“Why did you become a chef?” I asked the sous on my first day, hoping for a passionate answer about bringing people joy, or the unknowable nature of cookery, how there is always something new to learn, to master.

“I don’t know, really. I left school without any GCSEs. I was leafing through the college prospectus, and saw the chef course, and thought – okay, I’ll do that.”

Have you ever wondered why so many pub meals are average at best? Why things are sent out overcooked, tasteless and without love?

That’s why.

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THE REVIEW

My dining companion from The Running Horses review was back in town. At school, his bottomless appetite earned him the nickname: ‘The Human Dustbin.’ Despite this moniker, he remains perfectly slim, much to my annoyance. Still, his passion for eating makes him the perfect partner for a long lunch.

The weather called for a rural pub, and a neighbour suggested we head to The Watermill. Perched above the countryside with stunning panorama of Box Hill, it offers a landscape that would knock David Attenborough’s socks off.

The Watermill’s exterior

Google Maps

Inside, there is a tremendous amount of space that feels huge yet intimate, and bright yet cosy. I happen across quiet corners, four outdoor seating areas, and a roaring fire. Perhaps this venue employed a feng shui master, because it definitely feels just right.

And so, The Human Dustbin and I sat in the garden, clinked glasses and took in the greenery. The scene was set for a wonderful afternoon. And at The Watermill, we had one.

But that wasn’t thanks to the food.

The Box Hill backdrop

Monkfish scampi, smoked chilli jelly, cured lemon mayonnaise – £10

The meat is squidgy in that pleasant monkfish way, but the smoked chilli jelly tastes of neither smoke, nor chilli, and the mayo feels like plain old mayo. It was fine but considerably less exciting than what’s printed on the menu.

To top it all off, the watercress side salad was rotting and inedible. (In my review of The Gomshall Mill, perhaps I did not give them enough credit for upgrading the usual sad side salad).

Pea & shallot tortelloni, shallot & oregano “butter”, superstraccia – £12.50

To put it plainly: a failure. The filling is dry and there is not enough moisture on the plate to rescue it.

First main: Black bream, lemon crushed new potatoes, samphire, Sriracha mussel butter – £21

The sauce is the best thing so far: rich and savoury with gentle heat from the Sriracha and the samphire is crunchy and alive. But the fish is dry and overcooked. What a shame.

Is there a theme developing here?

Second Main: Chicken & parma ham schnitzel, loaded wedge salad, green goddess and buttermilk dressing – £19.50

I could tell just by looking at this schnitzel that it was overcooked. Why couldn’t the kitchen? The chicken was bone dry and hard to chew.

The iceberg wedge looked stunning but tasted of nothing. It’s an impressive accomplishment to make lettuce taste like less than it normally does.

Careless cooking all-round.

Finally, for dessert: Sticky toffee apricot pudding, honey caramel, cornflake ice cream – £8.50

The server did apologise for the ice cream toppling off.

The best dish of the afternoon. A beautiful, sticky and sumptuous pudding with a glorious honey caramel, and paired with an inspired cornflake ice cream that was sweet, caramelised and nutty.

In keeping with this menu’s broader philosophy, the apricots looked like they ought to taste of something, but did not.

What’s The Damage?

Item	Cost
Monkfish scampi	£10.00
Tortelloni	£12.50
Chicken schnitzel	£19.50
Bream	£21.00
Sticky toffee pudding	£8.50

Service charge 12.5%	£8.88
Total	£79.88

At the start of this newsletter, I asked if you had ever wondered why so many pub meals are sent out without love. The Watermill provides the textbook answer. It is a collision of two fatal errors: a menu written with ambition, executed by a kitchen team that clearly couldn't care less.

It's a genuine shame, because it really is a beautiful pub with a glorious setting. I highly recommend that you come here, clink glasses with a friend, and take in the magnificent scenery. But if you value your wallet, your palate, and your love of food – eat beforehand.

The Watermill, Dorking.

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English asparagus season is finally upon us!

Now is the time to enjoy some of the best seasonal produce in England.

You can find English asparagus on market stalls around Surrey right now, but the official beginning is St George’s Day, 23rd April, until late June.

If you’re cooking an asparagus dish, send me a photo ([email protected]) and I’ll see if I can include it in an upcoming issue.

And in case you missed it, here’s our Spring Special: What’s Seasonal in Surrey.