Kitchen
Pumpkin and sage soup, the long way
The pumpkin and sage soup is the oldest dish on the menu, and the only one that has never been changed. Clayton Richards walked me through its afternoon.
The soup
A dish that refuses to hurry
Pumpkin soup sounds simple, and it is, but it can only be made well by someone willing to wait. Clayton begins at one o'clock, long before any other cook arrives, with a tray of pumpkin cut into thick wedges and a pan of butter.
He says the secret is time and heat, and that the rest is detail. When I pressed him, he admitted the detail is quite important, and that he has refused to write it down since the first winter.
The afternoon in four parts
One o'clock: the roasting
The pumpkin goes into a hot oven until the edges blacken slightly. That caramelised edge is the flavour of the soup, and it cannot be hurried by turning the oven up. Clayton checks it every ten minutes and turns each wedge by hand.
Two o'clock: the stock
Onion and a little celery are softened in butter, the roasted pumpkin is added, and the stock goes in. It is a plain chicken stock made that morning, and it is allowed to simmer quietly while the pastry is rolled in the next room.
Three o'clock: the blending
The soup is blended until smooth and then passed through a fine sieve. Clayton calls this the dull part, but it gives the soup its silk. A little cream is stirred in at the end, never before.
Four o'clock: the sage
Sage leaves are fried in butter until crisp and scattered over each bowl. The first spoonful is taken by the whole kitchen, standing, and the soup goes out at five. It has been the same, to the leaf, for every winter we have been open.
If you would like the soup at its best, come early. The first bowls of the evening are taken from the top of the pot, where the cream has settled gently, and the staff swear they taste different. Clayton says that is nonsense. He also keeps the first bowl for himself.