In a quiet Pembrokeshire valley, Larry finds a country house hotel where Welsh charm meets refined simplicity, and dinner becomes an art form — the perfect overture to autumn…
There’s one country hotel I’ve been wanting to stay at for some time. Ever since I’ve been holidaying with my in-laws on Wales’s Gower Peninsula, Mrs L and I have sought our own window of solitude nearby, whether to prepare for the onslaught – or recover after. And, amid Wales’s many offerings of country retreats, one that has been on my list long since opening is The Grove of Narberth.
Its very name conjures up something from a fairy tale. Tucked into a wooded hillside just outside the small town of Narberth, it has a beautiful aspect overlooking the Preseli hills. It’s a place that feels slightly apart from the world; quietly self-assured, almost secretive, as though you’ve stumbled upon a particularly well-kept Welsh secret.
It has all the hallmarks of a Welsh country cottage, but elevated. This is not a property of grandeur or showmanship; it’s the very definition of cosy. You weave through narrow halls and nooks of muted, earthy tones, walls draped with patchwork quilts, lace and rustic-themed contemporary art, rooms feature archetypal farmhouse furniture, window seats and woven rugs.
There’s no ostentation here; the only statement in ours is a four poster with lathed bedposts, and these are upstaged by the row of wooden Welsh love spoons lining the walls. But then there’s the contemporary twist; freestanding roll-top baths, bespoke toiletries and complimentary minibars with top-of-the-range teas, juices and the like.
It’s the sort of place you want to while the time away. I could spend an hour with a book, happily ensconced in a wingback chair by the hearth in the lounge, or enjoying tea in the blue lounge opposite (as we did when we arrived). But as the sun began to dip below the treeline, it was the setting that was calling to us; guests were enjoying tea on the terrace, but the pond beyond, walking amid the surrounding burnt orange trees and silver birch, finding paths weaving among this glade, gave this a real sense of place, and infinite calm.
I’m going to let you into a little secret. Judging from the cars in the drive and the guests at breakfast, you’d be forgiven for thinking this was an adults-only sort of place. And don’t get me wrong, almost as soon as we arrived Mrs L remarked how it would be if we hadn’t brought our little nest of vipers; but she was as happy as we were.
Within the grounds a croquet lawn and boules court made fun somewhat civilised, and had we more time we’d have taken the hotel’s bikes and explored the Canaston Woods nearby. But it was when evening came that she got really excited. We were booked into The Fernery – a dining experience more ‘for grown-ups’ – so when an in-room children’s menu was offered, with the chance to ‘own the room’, she was all over it.
At the appointed hour, there was a knock at the door. Her tray was ushered in and, amid much excitement revealing what was under cloches and inside boxes, instructions where ushered to Mrs L and I to ‘hurry up and get out of here’. Happily ensconced in her robe on the sofa, tray on lap and TV remote in hand, Mrs L and I descended for an aperitif.
The bar continues the rustic theme with its pew benches and comb-back armchairs, and has the feel of a country pub, but this is not one for hand-pumped cask ales, the bartenders here are cut from a more creative cloth. Our arrival coincided with the release of a new drinks menu, in the form of a tour through Wales, figuratively and literally; the cocktail ‘journey’ inspired by the Welsh landscape and made up of Welsh ingredients; Valley and Forest was a take on an old fashioned and had me at lamb fat-washed whisky and mushrooms (yes, really). Mrs L’s gin-based Coast, infused with lavender bitters, pink peppercorn and grapefruit soda proved a refreshing – but no less conservative – counterpoint.
But what makes one country retreat stand out over another? Location, décor, hospitality flourishes – sure, it’s what you’d expect from a five star offering. But those that really resonate do so on account of their chef. And, at the hands of the magician that is Douglas Balish, The Fernery provided what we were entertainingly introduced to as dinner ‘and a show’, albeit conjured purely on the plate.
The evening began with a parade of delicate snacks: goat’s curd and pesto with tomatoes, a seaweed cracker with taramasalata and wasabi gel, followed by eel and egg yolk with potato dashi, and a brioche sphere concealing chicken liver parfait. Each plate a miniature artwork, each bite a quiet revelation.
From there, the tasting menu unfolded like a story – each chapter introduced only by a name and a pinpoint on a map of local provenance. When Andy Met Tim arrived first, an improbable duet of oyster crème fraîche and wasabi ice cream, equal parts playful and transcendent. Car y Môr (‘Love of the Sea’) brought lobster custard with trout roe and a miniature lobster roll, while Of the Land and Sea united Bristol Channel cod and scallop with hazelnut and mussel foam, lifted by garden-fresh rhubarb and peas.
The main course, lamb three ways – loin, faggot and smoked belly – paired with kohlrabi, mint, cardamom and lime pickle, was a masterclass in balance: rustic heartiness with the precision of fine dining, and the sommelier, encyclopaedic in her knowledge, paired it with a Welsh (yes, they make wine, too) Pinot Noir that could compete with anything from Burgundy. It was all impossibly inventive, the ‘show’ providing a narrative through culinary wizardry with as many twists as the paths through the Grove’s own woodland.
A meal like this must conclude, and thus we just managed to squeeze in a delice in a strawberry chocolate shell with lime curd, and a blackcurrant and hibiscus sorbet. Two hours slipped by in contented reverie – the rare pleasure of a meal uninterrupted, of adulthood reclaimed, and the reminder of why we seek these little escapes in the first place.
And this, perhaps, sums up The Grove. With summer’s warmth fading and the days drawing in, this tucked-away corner of the Pembrokeshire countryside feels the perfect prelude to autumn. Its woodlands burnish to copper and gold, the air grows crisp for long walks through the glade, and the hotel’s glowing hearths beckon you back inside.
Some country hotels have an enticing draw, a single statement to hang their offering on; The Grove has something rarer – that ineffable sense of place. That quiet magic you can’t quite put your finger on, but you know it the moment you arrive.
Stays at Grove of Narberth start from £260. For more information or to book, please visit www.grovenarberth.co.uk.
