Breakfast
Eggs, sourdough and strong coffee, from eight in the morning under the trees.
Specials
What the farm sent up this week, cooked over one slow fire and written fresh each day.
Afternoon Tea
Cake, scones and a pot for the table, in the green, while the afternoon goes long.
Ingredients & Farmers
We know who
grows it.
A great deal of what we serve comes off our own farm — herbs, greens and roots harvested at 05:30 and in the kitchen by lunch. The rest comes from smallholders around Karen, Limuru and the Rift who have been supplying this kitchen for years.
We buy whole crops rather than cherry-picking, we pay on delivery, and we plant around what they tell us grows well. It means the menu bends to the season instead of the other way round. It also means the people who grow your food are not strangers to us.
Preparation
One fire,
kept deliberately low.
Our salmon arrives whole. It is cured here, hung in our own smokehouse over smouldering herbs, and left alone for the best part of a day. There is no way to hurry it and no reason to try.
The same patience runs through the rest of the kitchen — stocks reduced overnight, lamb held eight hours over the coals, bread proved slowly and baked at dawn. None of it is visible on the plate, and it shouldn’t be. You should simply notice that it tastes like someone meant it.
Afternoon Tea
Three o’clock,
in the green.
Finger sandwiches, warm scones with cream and preserve, and a tier of cakes from the pastry kitchen — with a pot of tea or coffee each. Served from three until half past five, at a table under the trees.
It is meant to be taken slowly and shared, which is the only way anybody manages to finish it.