The Granary

Cooking at the pace of the valley

The Granary occupies the old milling floor, where the grindstones once sat. We kept the flagstones and the flour bins and set a single oak table down the middle, long enough for the whole house to eat together or apart as the mood takes them. There is no à la carte theatre here. A cook, an oven, a short list of what the valley farms and the river gave us this week.

Bread is the centre of everything. The wood-fired oven is lit before five each morning; by breakfast the mill smells of crust and the first loaves are cooling on the sill. What we cannot bake or grow, we buy from three farms within a morning's drive — eggs, cheese, slow-reared meat, and vegetables pulled the day before.

The day's three moments

Breakfast

Included for every loft. New bread, orchard preserves, valley butter, soft eggs, and a pot of tea or slow coffee. Served at the long table or carried up to your room on a tray if you would rather not speak to anyone yet — we understand entirely.

Midday board

A light board laid out around one o'clock: soup from the morning's trimmings, cheese, pickles, and yesterday's bread toasted over the embers. Come and go as you like; nothing is timed to the minute.

Supper

One sitting, chalked on the wall by mid-afternoon so you know what is coming. Usually a single main built around whatever arrived that week, a green thing beside it, and one pudding. Cider and a short list of regional wine. Tell us at breakfast if you are eating in.

Hours

Supper pauses on Tuesday and Wednesday, when the riverfront a short walk away offers plenty; the kitchen keeps a list of the honest places nearby. Let us know of any allergy or preference when you book and the cook will work around it — the short menu makes that easy rather than hard.