Le Champignon Sauvage

The legend of the kitchen here that may go some way to explaining the quality on the plates leaving the pass. The man behind the stoves is David Everitt-​Matthias; a cook’s cook by some stretch. Whilst others are working their way through the BBC food roster, the chef here is yet to miss a service since they opened in 1987. He has little care for the modern frivolities of the cooking world, choosing to focus on feeding the diner over his ego. It is David’s wife, Helen, who presides with grace over a dining room which at best can be described as composed, or dull in other eyes. Little does this matter for the fireworks are all reserved for the cooking.
From the start we knew we were in for a treat. Brioche tuile, a bacon muffin of impossible lightness, a cube of something gelatinous coated with chorizo powder, all gone in seconds. This is followed by a small ceramic pot with a set cabbage cream at the bottom, a bacon foam and some crunchy nuggets of black pudding. It tastes like the very best of Irish home cooking condensed into a couple of mouthfuls. The other half has the same base, with shavings of cauliflower and hazelnut atop. Miraculously it is the same earthy notes, minus the meat content. Bread is presented, the star of which is the bacon and shallot brioche. I ignore the rule about not filling up on carbs and go back to it three more times during the meal.
We order fairly priced wines from the Loire and Gironde which come with the seal of approval from Helen and descend into our chairs a little further. Starters appear, my partners a faultless combination of Jerusalem artichoke and truffle. The choke, both water bathed and fried, offset against a truffle shaved, grated and reduced it a tar like substance that I would like to take home and slather on some toast. A scattering of bitter leaves and dots of apple purée balance out the richness. The one word note in my phone says it all. Perfect. It overshadowed my well-​timed pigeon breast with baby carrots and spiced carrot purée, but then it would overshadow anything.
Cheap cuts and brawn may not be to everyone’s taste, but to those who it is not, I’m sorry, we can’t be friends. The wobbly bits of soft porcine meat and fat from the pigs head that lay at the base of my plate would be the starting point for one of the very best things that I have ever eaten. Add to the mix bits of braised cheek and belly and what you have is a winner. Croquettes that open up to be molten sweetcorn provide interest and sweetness which would be levelled out by tenderstem and pickled wild mushrooms. Its intrinsic cooking of flawless work and ballerina like poise. I find myself scraping the plate for last of the head meat with a crispy bit of pig skin. If there has ever been a more masculine sentence written than that, I would like to go for a pint of beer with the man that wrote it.
Whilst I was lost in a piggy haze, the veggie was working her way through a dish equally exceptional. Translucent discs of turnip gently folded over a smoked onion purée, silky smooth and potent in flavour. It shared the plate with more wild mushrooms, wilted lettuce and peas, both fresh and pureed. As with the starter, the dish was set up so nothing detracted from the purity of the vegetable flavour. It is cohesive and expertly judged.
A pre-​dessert of set mascarpone with chocolate sponge and coffee nods successfully towards a tiramisu without ever really touching the heights of the previous courses. It’s a welcome break, though we are quickly back with a mille feuille of peaches and raspberries intertwined with a lemon verbena cream. I am not usually a fan of shrubbery in my sweet course, though here the floral notes were restrained and in harmony with the fruit of stunning quality. The accompanying peach ice cream was a thing of beauty. I’ve eaten my far share of mille feuille’s; this may be my favourite.
We finish with petite fours that are a step too far for our bulging waistlines. Amongst them are mini baba doused in rum and a chocolate dusted in liquorice that slips out of my fat fingers and on to the crisp white linen. I take this as our cue to leave, even if the waitress greets the black smudge with the same cheeriness that has met us with every course this evening. Le Champignon Sauvage is a lovely place where wonderful things happen on plates without any evident pretence. This is a special restaurant, worthy of top billing on its own. The clarity of flavour. The ambition to match the execution on every dish, flawless from start to finish.

The food is fantastic, but the ambiance is atrocious enough to make dining uncomfortable. C.R.‘s review was spot-​on in every regard.
Stick your head in the door sometime, you’ll see what we’re all commenting on– why would anyone linger in the lounge? Awkward lighting, furnishings, wall-​hangings… a dead thistle accompanied a forlorn sprig of freesia in a vase on the table. The lighting was so cold-​toned and dim, we asked for a candle. Our gracious hostess obliged– with a birthday cake candle, perched on a croûton (!). The tables were well-​spaced, but the creepy silence amplified every word of the surrounding table’s conversations. The whole scene was hard to comprehend.
That said, a reminder that Michelin does not score for décor or styling, so in my opinion Michelin’s rating of two stars is well placed. The courses were perfectly executed, well-​balanced, delicious and playful. The bergamot parfait with licorice was perhaps the best finishing dish I’ve had in years. Stunning.
My Unilocal score: Five stars for food (triple-​weighted), one star for ambiance, averaged= my four star rating.

There were high expectations, and a special weekend had been planned around eating here. Now I’m sure the food was absolutely lovely, but I don’t really remember it.
What I remember is the feel of the place; the cramped waiting room-​esque lobby where we were sat for pre-​dinner drinks, the pub style light wooden wall panelling, and the awkward arrangement of the square dining room with stiff high backed chairs, a random selection of garish incoherent artwork and overly bright lighting.
Was this intentionally conceived or had they simply not gotten around to decorating for the last 25 years? It just felt all wrong; a throwback at odds with the inspirational nature of the gastronomic creations. Rather than focusing on the food in front of me and gasping with delight, I was aghast at the assault on my senses coming from the environment around me!
For me, a significant part of the pleasure to be derived from eating out is the right ambiance, and with fine dining in particular you expect something extra special, so in my book, misreading or neglecting this is unforgivable.

I lived in Cheltenham for 20 years and never ate at its most famous and michelin starred restaurant. However, when my husband discovered it’s existence there was no stopping him, and so we went. The first thing to say is don’t be put off by the appalling décor, lighting, etc. Yes, the small room manages to look like a service station Costa (think nasty blond half pannelling) crossed with a crummy modern art gallery (about twenty pictures of completely different styles, none of them desirable as a backdrop for food, crowd the walls). Yes, the lighting is worse than a TopShop changing room. Yes, the crockery is schizophrenic (brightly coloured naively painted plates greet you on arrival to be replaced with a bizarre assortment of ugly platters as the meal progreses) while the glassware and cutlery is lovely. Yes, the flower arrangements make Lilliput lane seem classy.
Ignore all this. It’s actually not hard because the staff are so charming.
And because the food is amazing. Not perfect but definitely extraordinary.
We chose three courses for £60. This comes with all sorts of additional delights so really it’s six courses.
Delicious little amuse bouches to star with: a goat cheese and pesto cream with parmesan wafers, a tiny chicken and sweet corn muffin, a cube of cheese in chorizo powder — all tiny bursts of flavour.
Then the most incredible ‘soup’ I have ever eaten. A langoustine broth that tasted like marmite gone to heaven with a creamy foam on top tasting like the smell of the sea. Extraordinary.
My ‘first course’ was scallops with sesame crack and thin slices of cured turnip. It sounded interesting so I wanted to try it. Interesting it was, and definitely a lovely way of eating turnip and sesame, but probably not the perfect way of eating scallops.
Then utterly delicious home made rolls with butter. Gosh I ate so much butter; and gosh they were good. Bacon and thyme brioche and a wonderful rolled up roll like a sideways chelsea bun with tomato paste in the crevices. Scumptious. Also, excellent gluten free bread for my husband.
As a ‘main course’ I had venison with beetroot and rosemary jus, and roasted beetroots and onion. The meat was a bit tough, but very tasty, and the jus was divine. A sprinkling of what I can only describe as savoury, spicy museli on top of the meat was inspired.
As we contemplated pudding, a pre-​pudding arrived. This was probably the most intensely flavoured thing I have ever experienced. It was a meadowsweet pannacotta with lemon jelly and lemon foam. Almost overwhelmingly strong, with a medicinal herbal undertone from the meadowsweet and an incredible lemon zing. Afterwards I felt as if I had been through some sort of acupressure treatment: my whole body was buzzing.
And finally pudding: a perfect vanilla, caramel, chocolate cheesecake with bitter chocolate ice cream. Paradise in a spoon. I could have eaten it twice over but actuallyt the portion was perfect. Apparently there was chicory involved, but I couldn’t identify it. Whatever the ingredients, they were all in the right place.
We left feeling that we had not so much ‘had supper’ as had an extraordinary sensory experience. That sounds naff, but I can’t really think of a better way of explaining it. I wouldn’t want to eat like that every day, even were it affordable, but as a one off it was amazing, and just as good as Claridges or other top notch places in London. Go Cheltenham!

This is a place of serious cooking, two Michelin Stars and a string of awards sustained over a long period of time which shows in both the quality of the service and food. Good value set lunch for the high level and standards of cooking involved. One of those places that is capable of producing the memorable meal that you talk about for years and that brings back good memories.
Atmosphere slightly on the formal side. Décor a little traditional but this doesn’t matter at all! Some decently priced wines. Bitter chocolate and salted caramel delice with malted milk ice cream is a masterpiece!
David Everitt-​Matthias and wife Helen just deliver consistently to a high standard. Its as simple as that!