Despite being on the tube (just), leafy Richmond, with its sylvan river pathways and jumbo cords, panama hats and shops for chic ladies d'un certain age, is so Not London, it's like being in a foreign county. Oh, that's right it's Surrey, which has become shorthand for everything polished and perjink and twee. And Petersham Road isn't likely to loom large on the tick-lists of the capital's foodie jeunesse dorée. The Dysart, in all its Tudorbethan, mullion-windowed magnificence, could almost come adorned with a banner saying, "Gin and Jag-ers welcome." (I don't mean Jaggers, although he does live up the road.) But anyone sniffy about suburbs or half-timbering would be missing a massive trick: there's some significant talent in this kitchen.
That it's no common or garden boozer is evident in, well, the garden. From this lush exuberance chef (and former Roux scholarship winner), Kenneth Culhane gathers herbs and leaves and edible flowers for his meticulously presented dishes. You can gauge the poshness by the freebies. Canapés: buttery parmesan shortbread topped with leaves of piment d'espelette jelly. Amuses: peeled cherry tomatoes in a relish made from cornue des Andes (chilli-shaped tomatoes of sweet intensity) with blobs of olive oil "jam". And petits fours: squares of vivid fruit jelly and salted caramel truffles. This has destination dining writ large over the flagstones and heritage colour charts.
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