An invitation to a very special dinner came my way this week, though at first glance, I didn’t think it was meant for me. It was calling ‘gourmets and oenophiles’ to an evening of exquisite Michelin-starred cuisine celebrating the legendary Champagne house of Perrier-Jouët.
I phoned a friend for enlightenment. “I don’t know if I can go,” I said, “I’m not a gourmet. I’ve hardly eaten carbs for the past decade, and as for the other thing”
“But that’s exactly what you are!” came the reply.
“Careful who you’re calling an oenophile,” I replied, “I don’t want to end up on a charge.”
“It’s a wine lover,” she said, exasperated, “from the Greek, ‘oinos’.”
Well, I wasn’t to know, was I? I must have had a tummy ache on the day my class took the crash course in ancient Greek. Anyway, the important thing is that I am an oenophile. In fact, I doubt there’s a woman alive who loves her wine quite as much as I do – just ask the checkout ladies at Waitrose.
“So, where is this place?” my friend continued.
I braced myself. “Upper Slaughter” I said.
“Oenophiles in Upper Slaughter? Sounds like you’ve strayed into an episode from The League of Gentlemen,” she laughed. “Of course, you absolutely must go!”
And so, feeling more confident about my qualifications, I found myself advancing up the drive of the beautiful Lords of the Manor Hotel. The inscription above the main porch of this 17th century former rectory reads: ‘Aute obitum nemo felix’, which means: ‘Before death no one is happy’, but everything and everyone about the place is on a mission to make that the biggest lie of them all.
After depositing my bags in a light, airy and stylish room that combined traditional and modern elements for a bang up-to-date take on the country house aesthetic, I took a tour of the hotel.
For visitors from abroad, The Lords of the Manor could be a film location. Built from Cotswold stone, it oozes history from every pore, and its setting in acres of parkland lends it a timelessness and tranquillity that attracts guests from all over the world.
The sun shone as we took tea in the lounge – a very English affair with perfectly textured scones and lashings of cream – exactly the sort of thing that’s been off limits through the summer when my two-piece swimsuit declared war on my thighs.
Later, at 7pm, the guests gathered for Champagne and canapés before sitting down to our Perrier-Jouët dinner. I fell in with a lovely Texan couple who were looking forward to the extensive menu we’d been reading.
The meal was introduced by Graham Lapraik of Pernod Ricard UK and Nancy Gilchrist, master of wines, who were to talk us through the different Champagnes that accompanied each course.
Rarely have I paid so much attention to the teacher, and I must confess that some of the Champagnes were so delicious that I drank more than one glass, just in case there was a test at the end.
The food lived up to its Michelin star and its newly awarded title ‘Cotswold Life Hotel Restaurant of the Year’, and we enjoyed such delights as pave of salmon, lobster ravioli and partridge with salsify and cep puree.
If that Masterchef presenter had been in the building, he might well have exploded.
I did make it to breakfast the next morning where a full English was served. My only sadness was that it signalled the end of my stay with general manager Ingo Wiangke and his cheery staff, but thanks to them all for my first taste of the Cotswolds.
In a tight spot
Back in the office, I was recharged enough to smile at the old gent who’d come in with his wife to book a holiday. As I went through the costings, I asked if he’d like to add a World Care Fund donation.
“It’s to help counter the planetary damage caused by carbon emissions and to aid the creation of self-sustaining communities,” I explained.
“No thanks,” he replied, “but you can have my old chip fat to fuel the plane if you like.”
I don’t think even Ryanair would take him up on his offer.
Maureen Hill works at Travel Angels in Gillingham, Dorset