Fylingdales Inn review: Whitby pub restaurant with 'nigh-on a preternatural talent at play'

Posts on the socials popped up of a reimagined old pub in Fylingthorpe. Back in the day I used to fetch up during the annual week in Robin Hood's Bay with mum, after we’d exhausted the flesh pots of Bay.

It was, I recall, a fairly grim, swirly-carpeted, Artex-walled old boozer, with nicotine ceilings, and unless my memory is playing tricks, a dartboard under which you had your pie and chips. In other words, like most pubs twenty-five years ago.

Today, the Fylingdales Inn is unrecognisable.

The sticky carpet has been skipped, and there’s not a trace of Artex. Instead, we walked into a big, light, elegant dining room with wooden floors and stone walls.

The smallish bar is to one side, and beyond is a cosy snug with a wood stove, which will be great in the winter months.

To give you an idea of how much I like the place, I’ve been twice in two weeks.

Henry Tucker and his wife Hannah are the owners, and it’s been in Tucker’s family for decades: Dad Bob was something of a colourful character, owning the Bay Hotel and the Laurel and, until recently, the Dolphin in Robin Hood’s Bay. Hannah has worked in hospitality and is a warm and efficient FoH. The menu has been created by chef George Husband, more of whom later.

The menu is short and succinct; it’s refreshing to read the likes of ‘Whitby crab on toast’ and not a tedious litany of ingredients so loved by the fine dining brigade.

Snacks include ham hock croquettes (moist inside with a good crunchy crumb and a very tasty beer mustard to smoosh them in) and prawn cocktail lettuce wraps, which turn out to be delightful tiny wonders: fat juicy prawns in a piquant rose sauce piled onto little gem leaves – a perfect mouthful – and topped with something sublimely crispy and salty – I had to ask – it’s finely sliced cabbage dusted with seaweed powder and deep fried, turning the classic prawn cocktail into something modern and marvellous.

The sweetest Whitby white crab meat is piled onto house sourdough toast and dressed with fine celeriac laces, and on top of that, apple marigold leaves – so many good flavours and textures in this dish.

It’s not very often I’d choose something with cottage cheese at the heart of it – but man, I’m glad I did. The cheese comes from Neal’s Yard and is vastly superior to pretty much any other. It gets the George Husband treatment: he folds in chives, lemon zest and roasted garlic. On the edge of the plate is chive-infused oil, and it’s scattered with candied pumpkin seeds for texture and sweetness. The beets are earthy, and to top it all, there’s crispy sage. I’ve never eaten anything like it: bravo, chef.

On the specials board are Lindisfarne oysters with frozen Bloody Mary (£3 each), grilled prawns with chilli butter (£12) and torched mackerel with fennel, apple and spiced butter – my choice and a really lovely, simple plate of food, delicious and colourful – so well thought through.

My chum chooses Bavette steak, generous and properly cooked, served with a piquant garlic and herb peppercorn sauce (either on the plate or in a jug, which next time we’ll choose). Great chips too. There’s also beef rib for two with peppercorn sauce, chips and salad for £45 – I saw one go by, and it looked stunning – again, very generous.

So, George Husband. He’s a local lad and went to Fyling Hall School up the road, where his dad was the art teacher and his mum, Sarah, the cook, and by all accounts, something of a legend. He grew up surrounded by kitchen gardens and keen eaters, and when he went to university in London to study music, he was so homesick for good grub he cooked for himself.

He had a job in a fish restaurant while studying – which lit a fire in him and was the start of ‘an obsession’. A job with noted chef Adam Byatt followed, and by 23 he was chef de partie at Bistro Union in Clapham, where he stayed for a couple of years. Michelin-starred BRAT at Shoreditch followed, and somewhere along the way he met his business partner George Brown, who followed him to North Yorkshire, but only after they’d travelled round Europe doing pop-ups. Alongside him in the kitchen now there’s George and an old chum, Rose Petherick, who is the bread queen.

Dessert – well, it’s bread pudding, which I had for lunch, and I wanted it again. ‘You won’t like the look of it,’ I said to the chum, but bear with me. Sure enough, a deceptively simple brown square of sweet, bready heaven with a brulee crust arrives in a pool of cold custard, like a school-dinner pudding. I know; it sounds shocking. But it’s my dessert of the year so far. Crisp top. Squidgy bottom. Aromatic custard. You’ve just got to take my word for it.

Husband’s hard yards in London have paid off in spades. His is nigh-on a preternatural talent at play: creative menu design with an eye on inclusion and the need to feed people without pretension or chefy faff. It’s a finely calibrated approach.

I’m invoking the Fyling Hall School motto: “The days that make us happy make us wise”. The food here, with such respect shown to locality and simplicity, makes me very happy indeed.

Ratings:

Welcome – 5/5

Food – 5/5

Atmosphere – 4.5/5

Prices – 5/5

Fylingdales Inn, Thorpe Ln, Fylingthorpe, Whitby Thorpe Ln, YO22 4TH

T: 01947 880433 www.fylingdalesinn.co.uk dinner for two with wine £101.50