Sophie McLean checks into a 17th-century Cotswolds bolthole with her sister in tow, finds a menu worth the detour, and discovers the only invasion worth worrying about is the one at breakfast…
When I arrive in Woodstock in the misty spring air of earlier this year, I am greeted by three ducks who introduce themselves with a squad-secure waddle across this pretty town’s main square. Jemima Puddle-Duck and pals, I decide, have a distinct superiority amongst guests and local residents, a hierarchy of heritage that is perhaps also explained in the name of the hotel on the corner: The Feathers.
Neatly positioned off Market Street, this pretty, 17th-century establishment is part of the Small Luxury Hotels of the World collection and only eight miles from the centre of Oxford. It shares its bucolic home with nearby Blenheim Palace — birthplace of Sir Winston Churchill — and, thanks to its proximity to the Cotswolds, a rather more touristic crowd these days. Indeed, The Telegraph sends me a provocative push notification almost on cue while we check into our room that very same afternoon: ‘Americans have invaded the Cotswolds, and not everyone is happy.’
In the Aviary bar, while sipping on a cup of Earl Grey tea on sofas so comfortable you could easily get lost within them, I notice no apparent ‘other’ accents in this slightly lesser-known enclave of England that might disturb the Telegraph’s peace — contrarily, just smiling staff who offer the cocktail list to us as a pre-dinner aperitif.
In the spirit of exploring the area, overnight companion ‘little sis’ and I take a tour to the mean back streets of Woodstock and visit the charming Back Lane Tavern for a glass of rosé in the sunshine. A proper pub that provides an authentic experience to those of whichever visiting nation, and a pretty good marker on Woodstock’s estimated 900 years of welcoming hospitality.
Quirky boutique shops line the town’s limestone streets – where you can find anything from vintage clothes to candelabras, current and vintage books, or a pastry or two from the Missing Bean café. Alfonso Gelateria, where you can also buy hot chocolate in the cooler months, comes highly recommended.
The Feathers, owned by an Oxfordshire company, has eighteen bedrooms and five hotel suites. We stay on the first floor in one of these, overlooking the cherry-blossomed garden terrace that doubles as a more informal restaurant throughout the week. Ours, which has a sweet little ante-room with a sofa and telly for weary travellers to kick their shoes off, also features a large en suite bathroom with a roll-top tub that permits hours of pre- or post-dinner luxuriating, filled to the brim with fig-scented Urban Apothecary products.
The double bed here is big enough to not be uncomfortable for co-hosting friends or, in this case, siblings. Even the twitchiest of sleep monsters, the longest of legs, or old rivalries left over from years of drawing straws over who gets the camp bed, mean neither bedfellow risks disturbing the other (couples, also, take note).
The clean and stylish ambience in the bedrooms extends throughout the building, created in part thanks to the artwork that decorates the walls: a large decorative ceramic oyster shell, a glorious amber-coloured glass chandelier, ceramic vases with protruding lips, and a Louis Vuitton-draped spacewoman complete with a neon-pink illuminated helmet. I admire her vibe. The main gallery wall is a collaboration between the hotel and Artists in Woodstock (artistsinwoodstock.co.uk) — a thriving local art community — while tall yellow irises that frame the terrace flower beds outside further illustrate this innate — Van Gogh, in this instance — eclectic artistic theme.
Impossibly comfortable beds aside, the real must-visit reason to come here is The Nest restaurant. Not only is it where quality English breakfasts are served against its wood-panelled walls brought right up to date alongside raffia Grecian urns, but come the evening it turns into a seat of feasting. Head chef Luke Rawiki, who assumed the role in 2024, creates a seasonally changing à la carte menu that is a generous treat.
When we dine, highlights from the tasting menu include Sturia Oscietra caviar served on a crumpet with crème fraîche — sumptuous English fare taken up a level. A shiitake mushroom tart with Godminster cheese and tarragon gives us a pointed view onto the earthy flavours and a nod to the English soil that provides the rest of these ingredients. Heritage-breed hogget — a richly woven British classic, chock full of taste, served with morel and mint — leaves us sated and salivating.
Then comes Charles Martell Double Gloucester cheese, followed by a super soufflé of forced rhubarb — arguably one of the UK’s finest seasonal ingredients — before finishing with ‘Valrhona Caramélia’ chocolate. The plating alone here is outstanding, but mouthfuls don’t disappoint on presentation alone. The evening comes to an end with a last glass from the wine list outside on the terrace, where the Aviary bar also provides a Cigar menu for those inclined to a different kind of plume.
If feathers symbolise freedom, spirituality, and a connection to the divine, this hotel does well to lure you in — food first, comfort second. And as the shock of this summer’s heatwave dissipates into autumn, I can’t think of anywhere better to escape to: fire lit, cocktail glasses charged, the sound of weekend newspaper pages turning in front of runny egg yolks for breakfast. We just need the lady in the Louis Vuitton to beam us back there before any other kind of (inter)national invasion.
The Feathers Hotel, 16-20 Market Street, Woodstock OX20 1SX. For more information, including details of The Nest and their ‘Four Hands’ experiences, please visit www.feathers.co.uk.
