A weekend in the countryside with one of the greatest chefs is sheer bliss, and perhaps the ultimate UK holiday, says Daniel Edward
You probably know of Raymond Blanc as the culinary Seigneur du Manoir Aux Quat’Saisons in Great Milton, where he has held two Michelin stars since opening in 1984, longer than any other manor house in the country. I’m quick to praise this achievement when I meet the culinary mastermind in his office overlooking the entrance courtyard, a compliment he humbly deflects by asking why I’ve taken so long to visit.
Unlike the pristine lounges and alluringly landscaped gardens, Raymond’s office is a mess; creativity vignetted in mid-flow. Burgeoning ideas lean against the wall, books, bags and scraps of paper are scattered across the desk and the wall of bookshelves display a library of cookbooks from all over the world along with a smattering of ornaments: a cockerel (bien sur), a trophy, a pair of dumbbells and an impressive CD collection. It’s like entering a bachelor pad from the 1990s. Raymond has the same infectious energy now as I imagine he had as the 23 year old waiter who was fired for telling his head chef how he might improve his menu, a move which precipitated his exile from La République with no kitchen training at all. Oxford-based since 1972, he still has no formal training but for Raymond it’s something instinctive.
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He credits his parents for his admiration of food and respect for hard work: “My papa built his own house close to the Jura mountains; with seven to feed, the garden became everything to feed the family for a good eight months of the year. It was a cottage industry.” Coming from a working class background – “I’m a peasant” – his parents taught him the value of fresh, seasonal produce from the garden and that “cooking is an act of love, no less”.
The ultimate UK holiday: rooms at Le Manoir, where Daniel stayed
His formative years also taught him the importance of looking after the world – something luxury brands now call sustainability. He regales me with stories of foraging for mushrooms and asparagus with “my friend, Rene, my best friend”. Six decades on, Raymond’s enthusiasm outshines even the beautifully glazed pastries set on the table between us, as he describes “thousands, thousands and thousands of these little green stems with their beautiful little heads stretching towards the sunlight, their feet in the water.”
“I was rich at the age of ten,” he beams, detailing the rolling calendar of harvests, “morels, chanterelles, the black trumpets, the ceps, the champignons des greys, the petit gris that you smell – you hunt it with smell”. His excitement is contagious, I want to go foraging for mushrooms right now. “Sometimes you would even sleep in the wood if you get lost. Ah, it was amazing.”
The braised Cornish turbot lazing on a bed of pickled cucumber and Japanese mooli expertly showcases the power of top quality natural flavours
Raymond has a unique way of making sustainability sound romantic: this isn’t a spreadsheet exercise in carbon reduction, at Le Manoir – as in Raymond’s rural childhood home – “it’s about creating a whole environment around it, not something presumptuous, but something beautiful.” The gardeners at Le Manoir grow over 150 varieties of vegetables, many heritage varieties, which form the foundation of the menus. As Raymond points out, this reduces the carbon footprint of the food, sure, but “if it’s close to home it has better taste, better texture, better colours, better nutrients. You help the farmer to keep his farm, the village to keep its local pub, its local Post Office.”
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It’s not just the local pub and Post Office on Raymond’s mind these days: he’s acutely aware that “we have a business which is very much dependent on my name”, and “if the business wants to live, my job is to prepare it for tomorrow.” It sounds alarmingly like a tomorrow without Raymond at the helm – is he retiring? “No, no,” he casually waves aside my concerns (though at 72 he deserves to). He outlines refurbishment plans for Le Manoir, which include heat pumps and re-wiring the 15th Century grade-II listed house, and a monumental 31 building expansion, including a spa, a bistro restaurant and more suites.
The plans have caused something of a stir in the local community and only narrowly cleared the planning committee (five to four), but Raymond is convinced this is what’s necessary for his 38-year-old baby to thrive in the future – at the moment, the average length of stay is one night, whereas “when you give a spa experience, when you add seven new gardens… we’ll increase people’s stay to three or four days, so less carbon footprint.”
The cynic in me silently adds less marketing spend per guest, higher occupancy rate and additional revenue streams, but I do believe Raymond’s commitment to the environment is genuine – he’s led the industry in using seasonal, home-grown produce, he hasn’t used plastics for decades (not even to line the kitchen bins), he even keeps track of McDonald’s sustainability credentials. I just don’t think he could fake the enthusiasm when his day started at 5am and it’s now almost dinner time.
Speaking of dinner, I sit down in the large conservatory and experience first-hand Raymond’s “admiration for what the table means – the most powerful medium where you bring friends together and you share that moment with food”. How many world-changing conversations have taken place around a state banquet table in this country alone? While nothing world-changing is discussed at our table, memories are made as we tuck into seven delicious courses from Raymond’s gardens.
The mushroom risotto, which follows the signature French Onion Soup, is a sepia masterpiece of shapes and textures, whilst the braised Cornish turbot lazing on a bed of pickled cucumber and Japanese mooli expertly showcases the power of top quality natural flavours, and also leaves me wondering how I’m going to finish another three courses. But worry not, I’m as committed to my craft as Raymond is to his and I soldier on, devouring every speck of food on every plate.
The first of our two desserts is a stylish twist on the classic French apple terrine, for which we must thank Monsieur Benoit Blin, Le Manoir’s much-admired Chef Pâtissier, who has won so many awards that he now judges them instead. And the last hurrah is a decadent chocolate crumble sphere, capped with a beetroot meringue, paired with an oval scoop of raspberry and beetroot sorbet.
Undefeated, we roll merrily to the lounge where we flop onto a fireside sofa, only to be greeted by more drinks and a plate of petit fours. Despite being full to bursting, conversation turns to what we might have for breakfast – true passion, and the ultimate UK holiday in the countryside!
Rooms at Le Manoir cost from around £1,000