Courtyard Café, Harewood, West Yorkshire
First, get to Harewood House, one of the world's grandest stately homes, set between Leeds and Harrogate.
After paying 7.50 a head to gain the grounds, or 8.25 if you elect to give some money to Gift Aid, or less if you are a child, student or senior, you wend your way through lovely parkland, along the back of the fabulous house and into a car park. Then you may either walk down to The Courtyard Caf or hitch a ride on a buggy.
It was the hottest Monday of the year. The place was bustling. People were radiant and happy. The courtyard is through an arch, a magnificent plaza with the quadrangle frontages supported by sandstone pillars.
There are tables and parasols in the courtyard, more tables inside. There are further open-air tables outside the quad, with a view into splendid landscape. On this halcyon terrace at half-term, young children were having so much noisy, squawking, shrieking fun that it was nigh uninhabitable for unconsenting adults.
Here we have a snapshot of a catering operation that is endeavouring to provide fine-dining for the day-trippers. A plate can make all the difference to our perceptions. Some of the main courses are served in what I grew up regarding as soup bowls, with a deep centre and a wide lip, there to retain wayward splashes and allow the hot plate to be handled and the spoon to be rested thereon. If you plonk into one of these a quartet of a regarded local sausage, or a brace of Nidderdale lamb chops on the bone and mashed potatoes, what is the result? You will not go hungry but your cutlery handles will be pointing skywards. Is this why some people hold their knife like a pencil?
Soup, on the other hand, is served in deep, rimless pots, when it should be in the plates used for the mains.
Some dishes must be carried away from the counter, where you order and pay, on trays that are a bit bendy and with a surface on which crockery is prone to slip. One was chilled summer fruit soup (itemised on the bill as "cake"), a streaky blackcurranty creamy-thin liquid with berries floating around a centre scoop of ice cream. I got the fruity gloop to the table, immediately spilling some across the table and down my strides and over the floor.
For bottles of bespoke lemonade, the glasses were handed over by a staff member who had inserted his fingers inside to grip them against his thumb, as pub staff do when clearing tables.
My wife had ordered tomato soup (it was either that or the equally unimaginative mushroom) and the sausages and mash. The whistling waiter in black arrived with the sausages. And the soup? That was coming very soon. Why? Well, I think he said the kitchen wasn't given a running order. One supposes someone may be having soup and someone else the main course?
It can't be beyond the wit of whoever is running this interesting fandango to make sure the food arrives in its proper sequence. Anyway, the whistler, now referring to our lass as "love", removed the sausages to allow the soup to come first. It was not clear whether the bangers would be kept warm or made freshly. I think the phrase used was "re-cooked". Just a shade ambiguous.
A waitress brought the soup. It was very good, neither too sweet nor too sharp. There was a rustic loaf and butter which poured out of its wrapper. Did no-one realise it was melting? Would they serve it like this to the Earl and Countess of Harewood? Would she be "love"? The chap on the next table went off to get some traditional solid butter from the caf's shady HQ. The whistling waiter put 3.50 in coins on the table. This was either a goodwill gesture or a refund for the tomato soup. Or a tip for us. He never said. I trousered it.
Having abandoned the summer soup (too much slurping) I asked about the pot of tea we had paid for. Ah, tea is collected by the diner, and it does say this on one of the advice boards. This mix of self-service and hired help is curious. A smartly-dressed man handed over the pot, which had been stewing behind the counter. I mentioned that the trays were bendy and slippery. He made no comment. Maybe he didn't hear.
The chops were the Chef's Recommendation. The lamb was from Nidderdale and unfashionably well- cooked, with the meat dark brown as at school in the 1960s and the fat nicely crispy. The taste was good and the meat was not tender. No-one asked or said how the cutlets would be cooked. Slightly pink would have been easier for chewing. They were seasoned with garlic and rosemary. There was not enough gravy and plenty of champ (potato and spring onion). A kite flew overhead. What do they think, looking down on all this? Mmm, they've left those sausages...
The menu extends into sandwiches and salads: asparagus, beetroot, toasted pine kernels and two free range eggs. Or "slow-cooked" Yorkshire ham with broad beans, and apple and pea shoot salad. These at 5.75. The chops were a shade pricey at 7.95 and a spoon of seasonal greens would address that. Other hot dishes were salmon fish cakes with red pepper salsa and herby salad (5.95) and Spanish-style loin of pork, Japanese chicken stir fry or fish and chips. Children's meals sounded ok: Harewood Burger and jacket wedges at 3.95 or tomato penne and cheese at 3.50.
They say: "The Courtyard Caf is the place to go for rest and refreshment. You will find a selection of homemade cakes and pastries, hot and cold meals (with options for children or vegetarians), all using the finest, freshest produce."
Verdict: Good in parts, but the Terrace Caf for light snacks at the front of the house is smarter and has full waitress service.
Courtyard Caf, Harewood House, Harewood, Leeds. Open every day from 10.30am until 5pm. Hot meals until 3.30pm. Tel 0113 218 1049. Disabled parking and access. You must pay to enter the estate. The caf is open late for summer suppers each Thursday. Visitors to Harewood can either stay on and enjoy supper or visitors can gain entry from 5.30pm/6pm with a 2 parking fee redeemable on food and drink in the Courtyard – no booking necessary.
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Saturday 26 May 2012
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