Grouse Club @ The Bull - Charlbury

Sheep St, Charlbury

Chipping Norton

OX7 3RR

BY NEAL MARTIN | SEPTEMBER 12, 2025

The Food:

Courgette and basil gazpacho

Chicken liver parfait on toast

Grouse with confit legs and grouse heart served with spinach

Blackberry tart

The Wines:

1990 Dom Pérignon	95
2022 Richard Kershaw Wines Chardonnay Deconstructed Lake District Bokkeveld Shale CY96	94
1959 Petit Village	89
1966 Cheval Blanc	97
1973 Cheval Blanc	87
1959 Domaine Faiveley Nuits Saint-Georges Clos de la Maréchale 1er Cru	87
1989 Pichon Baron	96
1966 Grand-Puy-Lacoste	91
1978 La Mission Haut-Brion	NR
1967 Climens	98

This year’s edition of the annual Grouse Club saw the three musketeers relocate to the rolling hills of the Cotswolds. The club’s members—Lord Bruce, his butler Gareth and yours truly—headed to The Bull in the village of Charlbury. Christopher Columbus was yet to discover America when The Bull first opened its doors in the 16th century. Suffice it to say, The Bull has been serving flagons of ale for one or two years. That said, I wager that during its half-millennial existence, these walls had never witnessed such a bevy of fine claret, nor such inane conversation or dribble.

This gastropub is definitely more gastro than pub. That said, it comes with all the trimmings you’d expect: a low, sagging ceiling and ancient oak beams, flagstone flooring, open fires and walls thick enough to repel canon fire. On this Wednesday at lunchtime, the place thronged with Notting Hill escapees, families and locals upholding the dying tradition of a cheeky lunchtime pint. Sadly, there was no sight of car-expert-turned-farmer Jeremy Clarkson, who apparently drops in for the occasional pint when the queues are too long at his own pub, which is every day. Nor did we spot U.S. Vice President JD Vance, who recently tried to book a table. Search the gossip columns if you don’t believe me, though the truth is nothing close to the tittle-tattle you will read.

Chef Sally Abé, center, with Lord Bruce at left and James Gummer at right.

Perhaps it is no surprise that since its refurbishment in 2023, The Bull has been a roaring success. Phil Winser and James Gummer, the team behind the restaurant, have a track record of successful openings, including London’s The Pelican and Canteen. It was a pleasant surprise to find chef Sally Abé in her kitchen apron. Abé is one of this country’s brightest talents, also recognisable from appearances on the BBC’s “Great British Menu.” I had no idea that the former Harwood Arms chef had moved out to the sticks. Now, I was salivating even more with thoughts of glorious grouse.

The menu at The Bull can be described as classic British. However, reading the menu online, it could certainly sound more appetising, as it follows the trend for gruff, almost monosyllabic descriptions. You might describe the food as posh pub grub, but that would undersell it. Expect simplicity married with impeccable sourcing, all delivered with Abé’s professional touch.

Courgette and basil gazpacho.

We commence with a small cup of courgette and basil gazpacho that awakens the senses, crammed with vivid flavours. Then, a chicken liver parfait that is impossible not to love. It is the best I have ever tasted, so light and creamy it might float away, beautifully garnished and spooned onto toasted brioche.

Grouse with confit legs and grouse heart served with spinach.

The star of the show, the grouse, had been sourced from a shoot up in Northumberland. Two thousand twenty-five is another difficult year for the game bird that can only be hunted from the “Glorious Twelfth.” A knock-on from the catastrophic 2024 season, breeding is down, meaning that shoots are being cancelled in order to try and replenish numbers. At least it is possible to obtain grouse, unlike last year when we had to suffice with substitutes at Bouchon Racine. Here, Abé prepared the bird masterfully. She trimmed it off the bone so that you are not scraping around a carcass, first poaching then roasting the grouse to lock in its juices and gaminess. The legs were done confit style and the hearts were oven-roasted, all served resting on a plate of wilted spinach with a redcurrant jus to die for. Perfectly seasoned, this represents one of the finest examples of grouse that I have eaten during “Grouse Club,” and it acts as a perfect foil to the vino.

Blackberry tart.

Finally, I could not resist a blackberry tart served with ice cream. No words needed. Just look at the photo and try not to salivate.

Lord Bruce excelled himself in terms of raiding his enviable cellar, which is to wine what Prince’s vault is to music. We commenced with a 1990 Dom Pérignon. I have found bottles a little variable in recent years, but this was certainly a great one. Golden in hue, it blossoms on the nose with brioche, almond, lemon zest and hints of honey that imply botrytis. The palate is just effervescent with impressive vigour after 35 years. Boasting yellow fruit, honey once more and a slightly mellifluous finish, this is everything you want in a mature DP. I brought along a white from my recent trip to South Africa. Why bang on about South African wines matching classic regions if you’re not going to slip them into salubrious meals like this? Served blind, it is no slight against either palate that both of my dining companions thought it was Burgundy, Saint-Aubin to be precise, because that is what it tasted like. The (takes a long, deep breath…) 2022 Chardonnay Deconstructed Lake District Bokkeveld Shale CY96 from Richard Kershaw Wines delivers the tension and mineralité you would expect from a Premier Cru Burgundy, whilst the palate has that verticality that dupes you into thinking you are somewhere in the Côte de Beaune. Meliorating in the glass by the minute, there is tremendous focus and sophistication to this, one of the Cape’s finest Chardonnays. The following morning, Lord Bruce asked where he could buy a bottle. Job done.

Onto a series of clarets. The 1959 Petit Village comes from an era when this Pomerol estate was owned by the Ginestet merchant. The 1959 comes across a little rustic and timeworn on the nose, though the vintage’s richness still shines through with smudged, overripe white-tipped strawberries and raspberries. With aeration, sous-bois intermixed with wild heather and tobacco surfaces and adds more complexity. The palate has degraded over decades yet remains cohesive with extant red fruit. This is simpler than the top-drawer Pomerol wines from ’59, though it has a welcome touch of allspice on the finish. Bottles need to be drunk soon unless in large format. The 1966 Cheval Blanc is often overshadowed by the astonishing 1964—unfairly, to judge by this splendid bottle. I had only tasted this vintage once, back in 2014. Even then, it was from half-bottle (and there is nothing wrong with half-bottles, as was soon proven). As an aside, when I met winemaker Pierre-Olivier Clouet in London a few days later, he told me that 1966 was the first vintage to be fermented in concrete vats that were new at the time. This has a stunning, ethereal bouquet of camphor-tinged red fruit, potpourri and violets that has fabulous delineation…there’s something almost Burgundian about its allure. The palate is framed by melted tannins, perfectly balanced and a little savoury with age. It gains weight in the glass, delivering a gorgeous piquant finish that entices you back for more. Quintessential Cheval Blanc, and wine of this year’s Grouse Club. It was partnered by a slightly younger version. The 1973 Cheval Blanc is a vintage that I had never tasted, and perhaps we hoped that it would replicate the stunning showing of the ’73 Petrus at the inaugural Grouse Club at Bellemy’s. That was not to be, though this still put on a creditable performance in context. Light and herbaceous on the nose, the aromatics are refined, but there is undeniably a slight washed-out, underripe element. Scents of antique bureau manifest in the glass. The palate is marked by sour cherries on the entry, with quite sharp acidity and some attenuation towards the finish. It’s still perfectly enjoyable, although this bottle was aided by sound provenance.

There followed a Burgundy interlude. The 1959 Nuits Saint-Georges Clos de la Maréchale 1er Cru from Faiveley was just degraded by time. Pressed flowers emerge on the stolid nose typical of Faiveley at that time. There are dark berries and singed leather, but this misses the detail and precision of a great old Pinot Noir. The palate is tannic and firm, a bit dry around the edges, with remnants of dark fruit on the leathery finish. Perfectly drinkable, but drink up.

Back to Bordeaux. The 1989 Pichon Baron is a wine that I have enjoyed many times, and it is just wonderful. Graphite and tobacco interlace on the intense, black-fruited nose that could only be born in Pauillac, old school in some ways and yet still brimming with vigour. The palate has fabulous balance, impressive weight and backbone, with gentle grip on the finish that never imposes too strongly. There is a sense of control and grandeur about this Pichon Baron that never ceases to amaze. Wonderful. The 1966 Grand-Puy-Lacoste is another vintage that I had never come across. Indeed, pre-1982 vintages of this Pauillac are thin on the ground. This has a classic nose of cigar box-tinged black fruit with quite a strong marine influence, more cedar-like scents emerging with time. The palate is lighter than the ’66 Cheval Blanc, yet there is a pleasing bitterness/salinity that keeps this on its toes, mellowing out marvellously towards the piquant, slightly leafy finish. The 1978 La Mission Haut-Brion came from half-bottle, and if I’ve said it once, I will say it again…there is nothing wrong with half-bottles. This is hands down the wine of the vintage. Powerful black fruit mixed with mulberry, warm gravel and hints of Japanese nori burst from the glass and never give up. The palate has amazing concentration for a ’78, quite dense and almost muscular yet velvety smooth on an atypically plush finish. This Graves is at its peak now and should not be overlooked…in whatever format. Alas, a bottle of 1979 La Mission Haut-Brion was corked.

Any diner who wishes to finish in style must finish with Sauternes. Period.

The 1967 Climens is an incredible Barsac that repeats the stellar showings of two bottles drunk in the last couple of years. Spectacular on the nose with otherworldly intensity, the scents of yuzu, marmalade, quince and Mirabelle are completely intoxicating. Despite the intensity, there is incredible delineation. The palate is tensile and fresh, the acidity slicing effortlessly through the layers of botrytised fruit, blood oranges and quince on the vivid finish that is so long you can feel flavours lapping against your senses a minute later. Brilliant.

I probably say it every year, but this was my favourite Grouse Club so far. Laughter and banter, exquisite cooking courtesy of Sally Abé and the best game bird there is—a lunch without end. Getting out in the countryside, you can unwind more, leave modernity behind.

Another downpour greeted our departure, but that was all part of the fun. Today was all about friendship, tradition for reasons of hedonism only, grouse and fine claret. Next year?

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