Accolade Brasserie, Bedlington, Northumberland

Oct 24 2008 by Geoff Laws, The Journal

I’VE recently started a woodwork class with the aim of converting some seasoned oak into a table to match the one I made some time ago from discarded church pews.

My Uncle Jack lies behind my love of working with wood. He and Aunty Jenny lived in Bedlington, Northumberland, in a bungalow with a small back garden, every square inch of which was used to grow vegetables and cutting flowers, with an area given over to housing bantams. Each time I visited I left full of Jenny’s wonderful scones and cakes and with a clutch of tiny eggs. I also left clutching my Northumbrian pipes, or the latest version, which were gradually being crafted in Jack’s garage. You see, like many men of his generation, he had a glory hole of a garage, filled to the rafters with treasured pieces of wood and all his tools, in pristine condition, racked in perfect order. For me, the star turn at the centre of this array of craftsmanship was Jack’s lathe!

He showed me how to use it to transform a stick into a decorative spindle and, once I’d discovered the magic of the lathe, I never looked back. So, as we approached Bedlington Front Street, searching for Accolade Brasserie, I was already in a good place mentally and, as it turned out, the meal that followed kept me there.

The menu’s broad range of choices had me dithering for a while, but I was “helped” by my companion who reduced my choices by snaffling her starter of pork and ginger filo parcel followed by a chicken dish. I chose mine and settled back to enjoy a perfectly chilled glass of Chablis. A few moments later the parcels arrived with my dish of grilled Elsdon goats’ cheese with cherry tomato salad and red onion jam. The square of softly toasted cheese collapsed languidly over a pile of salad leaves and cheerily red tomatoes. The creamy cheese’s hazy savour was complemented by piquant chutney and made this a well-crafted dish. My companion’s crunchy filo parcel was stuffed full of loin of pork, fresh ginger and spring onions. It was not one of these suspiciously uniform sausages and proved that, unlike many other chefs, this one had done everything himself. The accompanying chilli plum jam gave a spicy-sweet shake to the dish.

We were still glowing with satisfaction when our main courses arrived. I set about demolishing the Ingram Valley lamb chops that curled lusciously on the plate, each one with its wrap of succulent fat around a tender, meaty heart. A layered timbale of amber sweet potato and bottle-green wilted spinach created a traffic light tower of vegetables and a reduction of meat juices and good quality stock formed a rich jus. The clarity of textures and tastes in this dish was outstanding.

My companion’s breast of chicken with herb roasted potatoes, chorizo and balsamic glaze was another excellent dish. An attractive design of balsamic reduction and golden oil zigzagged across the crisp chicken skin. The plump soft flesh below the surface covered a staggered pile of smoky chorizo sausage alongside a collection of herb-roasted potatoes. Both dishes came with a bowl of freshly steamed, seasonal vegetables that brought even more colour and crunch to the course.

Desserts kept up the momentum with, for her, an impeccable ginger sponge covered with glossy caramelised sugar and, as if that wasn’t enough, with caramel sauce draped all around and a curl of creamy rum and raisin flavour Morwick ice cream. The plate was virtually pattern free by the time she’d finished!

My Turkish delight crème brulée, a deeply creamy custard with an exotic base layer topped by crunchy sugar coating, ticked all the boxes and led me on to a reviving double espresso before driving home with another delicious memory of Bedlington to add to those of the Jack and Jenny years.