Scripts for Supper: Wind in the Willows

Dinner theatre is something which fills me with equal parts excitement and dread.  Done well it combines two of my favourite things; done badly it leaves a bad taste in the mouth – in every sense. That being said, when I saw that West Town Farm in Ide was hosting Scripts for Supper’s latest performance – a production of Wind in the Willows with dishes inspired by the story, it was an easy decision to go.

Scripts for Supper is the brainchild of former MasterChef contestant Annie Mackenzie and she has taken on the not inconsiderable task of directing the show and devising the menu. Having watched Annie’s progress through the show two years ago I was curious to see what her food would be like but confident that we were in for a good meal.

We had tickets for the final night of the performance – and what a night it was.  We arrived at the farm bathed in glorious, golden sunlight and were greeted with a pre-dinner cocktail which we drank with the sun on our faces while leaning against the warm, red-brick farm buildings.  The cocktail was sharp and refreshing – the perfect accompaniment to a late spring evening.  While guests arrived canapés were served by the kitchen team: a light-as-air tart tatin filled with sticky caramelised onion; a delightful way to get things started.  The meal/performance  began a little later than scheduled but this was bothering no-one – it was the perfect evening for taking your time over things.

Soon though we were led to the dining room. We were greeted with a space that managed to be simultaneously rural and refined.  What is in effect an open sided barn had been filled with two long communal tables covered with green astro-turf tablecloths, tea lights, golden placemats and silverware.  As soon as everyone was seated the performance began, setting the tone for the meal – the actors, out of character, frantically tried to wake the narrator who fallen asleep in a corner of the room.  Throughout the performance, which was punctuated by the various courses, the actors regularly referred to each other by their real names, stopped the action to redo moments because they hadn’t got the right reaction and broke the fourth wall so often and so thoroughly that the remains would make Humpty Dumpty’s injuries seem like a scraped knee.  It was full of anarchic energy but for all the chaos, the story was still clear and the characters were well interpreted.  It was a smart choice to perform the play in this style, as it created a convivial atmosphere among the guests and meant that, in the breaks to serve food, the actors could interact freely with the diners while serving, without worrying about destroying a carefully built illusion.  Not all of the improvisation hit the mark for me, however.  We were there on the last night of the run and with some of the ad-libs it felt like the cast were getting a little carried away. Although momentarily awkward, these did little to mar what was an otherwise extremely enjoyable play.

The performance was only half the story though.  Throughout the play there were four intervals for different courses to be served, the first of which was inspired by Ratty’s rather generously over-packed picnic hamper.  We were treated to a terrine that was delightfully gamey, with sweet, smoky flavours from the bacon that encircled each slice. Studded throughout were pieces of cornichon, which added a very pleasing sharpness as a counterpoint to the rich meat.

Next was a sardine croquette: crisp on the outside, light and fluffy inside. The flavour here was excellent – not overpoweringly fishy, buttery and moreish.  I would have eaten them all night if I could.

The main course was a bubble and squeak risotto topped with a soft-boiled egg rolled in crispy crumbs. The risotto was creamy and satisfying while the egg added some welcome textural variety. Also what dish isn’t enhanced by perfectly runny egg yolk?

To end the meal we were served rhubarb trifles.  If I ever find myself on death row, rhubarb and custard will be strong contenders for a place in my final meal.  So needless to say I enjoyed this dessert immensely. My wife, who also loves rhubarb, sadly is not a fan of booze in a pudding, so I selflessly ate hers too. I would have felt bad about this but was too busy enjoying myself.  The custard was thick and sweet, the fruit soft and tart. The alcohol gave the whole thing a mischievous, grown-up kick. It was the perfect end to the meal and a fitting dish to sum up the evening: sweet, playful and satisfying.

 

At the time of writing, Scripts for Supper’s next project has not been announced but do head to the website, www.scriptsforsupper.co.uk for contact details and to keep an eye on what comes next!