Moor Hall

Prescot Rd

Aughton

Ormskirk L39 6RT

BY NEAL MARTIN | JANUARY 27, 2023

The Food:

Charcuterie, black pudding with pickled gooseberry, “Crown Prince” (chorizo and egg)

Isle of Skye langoustine with raspberry, radish and nasturtium

Cod roe with chicken, chervil and caviar

Smoked eel with fermented garlic and flowers

Louët-Feisser oysters with white beetroot, dill and buttermilk

Paris market carrots, Doddington cheese, chrysanthemum and sea buckthorn

Turnip and crab, anise hyssop and sunflower seeds

Hereford sirloin, barbecued celeriac, mustard and shallot

Isle of Mull scallop with fermented grains, green tomato and cauliflower purée

Turbot with Kuri squash, girolles, sea greens and Suquet sauce

Méracq Guinea hen with beetroot, sweetcorn and white beans, ragout and whey onion

Ormskirk gingerbread with roots and pine

Scarisbrick blackberries with lemon verbena, begonia and ragstone cheese

Garden apples and gooseberry, woodruff, birch sap and marigold mousse

Fermented apricot with wild honey and puffed buckwheat

The Wines:

2016 Sadie Family Winery Skerpioen	95
1970 Labégorce	86

Lunch at Moor Hall is the greatest meal I have enjoyed in my country of birth. Let’s get that out of the way first. Flipping through my Rolodex of jaw-dropping feasts, only two can compare, both in Spain, namely the late El Bulli and Martin Berasategui in San Sebastien. Every dish at Moor Hall warranted a cavalcade of superlatives. Every morsel cherished. Convinced I must have reached some gustatory pinnacle, the next course waltzed onto the table and left me speechless. When chef patron Mark Birchall is awarded a troisième étoile, then Moor Hall is going to become impossible to book, so please don’t say I didn’t warn you. Go book a table before reading the rest of this Vinous Table.

The Moor Hall exterior

I had wanted to eat at Moor Hall for two or three years. However, located a three-hour drive from my home between Liverpool and Manchester, even without the inevitable M6 traffic jam, Moor Hall isn’t somewhere I could simply visit during the week and cab it home. It is definitely worth the journey to the outskirts of the middle-of-nowhere, or in more helpful geographical terms, around 20 minutes outside Liverpool on the featureless rural fringe of Lancashire. As luck would have it, a close friend’s nuptials were due to take place just a half-hour drive away, so as soon as I accepted his wedding invitation, I booked a table for lunch the following day. Driving prohibited me from wanton libation, but that was no huge loss since my senses had to work overtime relishing the kaleidoscope of aromas, flavours, textures and combinations. In fact, it confirmed my adage that the more complex the menu, the simpler the wine and vice versa.

Moor Hall is a tranquil oasis sheltered from surrounding farmland by a copse of trees. It’s not until entering its gates, just outside the village of Aughton, that you realise that the Satnav is not on the blink and delivered you to a restaurant twice-voted the best in the country by the National Restaurant Awards, above The Fat Duck, Core and Gordon Ramsay. In fact, the five-acre grounds accommodate not one but two starred restaurants. A second opened in a converted barn adjacent to Moor Hall, christened without minimal inspiration, The Barn, catering for more casual and less expensive dining. That did not prevent it from gaining a Michelin star in 2022. The two stand perpendicular to each other, gazing over a manicured lawn, gardens and a lake. Behind Moor Hall lies an expansive walled vegetable and herb garden, vouchsafing that a fair proportion of ingredients are wrenched from the soil a few meters away from your plate. For those traveling afar, there are several rooms providing overnight accommodation.

Charcuterie, black pudding with pickled gooseberry, “Crown Prince” (chorizo and egg)

The Grade II listed gentry house was built in 1533, though the site’s name dates back to 1282. In 2015, it was acquired by Andy and Tracey Bell. The couple restored the buildings and successfully maintained their timeworn, lived-in ambiance. The whitewashed exterior looks splendid, while the interior is all weathered oak beams and bas-relief. Chef Mark Birchall is a former Roux Scholar who honed his craft at El Celler de Can Roca before heading up the open kitchen of Simon Rogan’s lauded L’Enclume, an hour or so up the motorway. Apart from dinner, Moor Hall offers two lunch options. There is an eight-course menu for £95.00 per person and what you might call the “Full Monty” at £225.00 per person. I threw caution to the wind because I had traveled far and did not know when or if I could return.

Cod roe with chicken, chervil and caviar

The meal does not commence in the restaurant. Upon arrival, diners are ushered into an adjoining room furnished with comfy leather sofas, an obligatory burning log fire and a bijou bar where cocktails or bubbles can be ordered, canapés served on varnished wooden platters. Amongst these, the dainty puff of black pudding with pickled gooseberry is outstanding, exploding with flavour as soon as you pop it in your mouth. The cod roe with chicken, chervil and caviar is electrifying.  

Smoked eel with fermented garlic and flowers

One-by-one, each table is escorted to the open kitchen, a neat way of staggering diners into the main room. Birchall leads around 20 young men and women, smartly dressed in whites working along rows of zinc worktops that evoke hazy memories of the kitchens at El Bulli. There is an almost ecclesiastical sense of what might be termed “intense calm” as culinary objets d’art are surgically assembled. I do not catch sight of Birchall himself, though our waiter assures me that he is present. Here, we are treated to the smoked eel with potato, fermented garlic and decorated with edible flowers – completely divine.

The Moor Hall interior

The restaurant is housed in a modern, commodious, tastefully-designed, high-ceilinged and glass-fronted extension attached to the original house, affording a relaxing view of the grounds and plenty of light to contrast with the more tenebrous entrance. Tables are widely spaced with around 20 to 25 covers. A plate of linseed bread is offered with two types of homemade butter, one a culture blend and the other with lovage, chive and basil. The bread is gooey and so delicious that it is almost tortuous resisting to eat more, knowing how many courses are to follow.

The stream of dishes that follow is almost uniformly breathtaking. Sometimes images communicate the quality of dishes better than words, and I have done my best in this respect. The menu is generally adventurous without being pretentious; the only commonality is a tinge of regret when finally swallowing whatever is in my mouth. Nearly every course is moderate in size, with just two meat-based dishes. Therefore, over the period of three or four hours, I never feel bloated or overwhelmed by calories and carbs.

Louët-Feisser oysters with white beetroot, dill and buttermilk

The Louët-Feisser oysters with white beetroot, dill and buttermilk is one of two or three dishes assembled at our table. The Grade 0 bivalves had been caught in Carlingford Loch just that morning, and they paddle about in a bronze fennel juice poured by our waiter. The oysters are sweet and smooth in texture, combining exquisitely with the white beetroot that imparts a vital tang.

Paris market carrots, Doddington cheese, chrysanthemum and sea buckthorn

The Paris market carrots come from the local Royal Oak farm and are served with a Doddington cheese powder (courtesy of cheesemaker Maggie Maxwell), chrysanthemum and sea buckthorn. It seems ridiculous that I detested carrots as a child. On the other hand, my family did not make them as mouth-watering as these orange fellas, notwithstanding the exemplary presentation.

Turnip and crab, anise hyssop and sunflower seeds

A small but perfect dish of turnip and crab is next. The root veg is sourced from chef Brian Turner’s farm and comes with anise hyssop broth and sunflower seeds, partnered with a Kombu seaweed-infused broth that had been strained and poured in front of diners. I love the earthy acridity of the turnip and the nuanced sweetness of the crab, the broth binding the flavours together. There’s an obvious Japanese influence here, and it works supremely well.

Hereford sirloin, barbecued celeriac, mustard and shallot

The solitary red meat dish is the 80-day aged sirloin from Nunton Farm in Herefordshire, aged 60 days and then 20 days on and off the bone. This comes with barbecued celeriac, Savoy mustard and sliced shallot, a side of cornichons, lace-like squid ink crackers and burnt onion ash powder. It looks and tastes spectacular, the beef melt-in-your-mouth in texture.

Isle of Mull scallop with fermented grains, green tomato and cauliflower purée

Two seafood courses commence with a scallop from the Isle of Mull cooked over a yakitori grill. It comes with fermented miso grains, green tomato, grilled cauliflower and cauliflower purée. The scallop taste momentarily transports you to the windswept Scottish Highlands, the tomato imparting sharpness and the purée the sweetness. Utterly sublime.

Turbot with Kuri squash, girolles, sea greens and Suquet sauce

The turbot from Cornwall is prepared on the bone and served midway between raw and cooked. This comes with red Kuri squash, girolles, a sea green, Suquet sauce (a Catalan fish stew) and razor clams dressed with oyster leaf and confit tomatoes. Masticating as slowly as possible so I could savour every morsel, would it be rude to ask for more? I am sorely tempted.

Méracq Guinea hen with beetroot, sweetcorn and white beans, ragout and whey onion

The Méracq Guinea hen “flew” over from southwest France and is served with beetroot prepared in different ways, powdered and as a gel, a sweetcorn salsa Verde, white beans, ragout and a whey onion, liver and truffle puree. The guinea hen is cooked to absolute perfection, the salsa Verde lending bite and the beetroot earthiness. Fabulous.

Ormskirk gingerbread with roots and pine

We are treated to no less than four desserts. The bowl of Ormskirk gingerbread with a root and pine garnish is a guilty pleasure. There is something almost childlike about this dish, the garnish lending a slight smokiness. As an aside, gingerbread is said to have originated from Ormskirk in the 18th century, popular in the north of England before King Edward VII purportedly stopped his royal train heading up to Balmoral so he could stock up. This is a nice nod to its roots.

Scarisbrick blackberries with lemon verbena, begonia and ragstone cheese

The Scarisbrick blackberries are served with lemon verbena, begonia and ragstone cheese, a redcurrant powder sprinkled over the top. Its pulchritude is almost too much to demolish, but I have no regrets after spooning the first mouthful.

Garden apples and gooseberry, woodruff, birch sap and marigold mousse

The next dessert is vividly coloured: a garden apple terrine and a gooseberry sorbet sat upon an almond crumble base furnished with a woodruff, birch sap and marigold mousse. Heavenly. Finally, a fermented apricot gel comes with wild honey and puffed buckwheat, a suitably sweet denouement to our lunch, where I noticed we were one of the first seated and last to depart. We are escorted back to the log fire, where petit-fours and a selection from their walk-in cheese larder are served, plus coffee courtesy of the consistently excellent Difference Coffee Company.

Fermented apricot with wild honey and puffed buckwheat

The wine list is pricey. There are no bargains to be found, which is a shame. The sommelier is first-class: informative and personable without overstaying his welcome. The restaurant permitted me to bring my bottle for £60.00 corkage, steep maybe, but plenty of others flatly refuse such requests. As etiquette dictates, even though I have to be abstemious, I order a bottle off the list.

The 2016 Skerpioen from Sadie Family Winery is the only vintage not reviewed on Vinous and so why not fill in the gap? It is a brilliant Chenin Blanc and Palomino blend; there’s a razor-sharp definition on the nose with scents of seaweed and sea spray, a background of flinty aromas emerging with time. The palate offers exquisite balance thanks to its silver bead of acidity, that marine theme continuing towards its almost balletic, graceful finish with hazelnut and a pistachio hint on the aftertaste. I often think that Sadie’s Old Vine Series wines are drunk too young, and this wine not only benefits from a bit of bottle age but will clearly give another 15-20 years of drinking pleasure. Incidentally, not wishing to waste, the bottle is brought home and tastes just as good 24 hours later.

My bottle of 1970 Labégorce had been acquired in Burgundy. This era is not particularly renowned for the Margaux estate, yet it shows better than expected. Light bricking on the rim, it has a rustic and tertiary nose of decaying autumn leaves, roasted chestnut and sage. The balsamic bordering on acetic tincture becomes more prominent with aeration, developing some unwanted rusty nail scents with time. The palate is medium-weight with coarse tannins, arguably missing some Margaux DNA but with pleasant sour cherry on its acetic finish. It holds together over three to four hours, and I could not ask for anything more.

Moor Hall completely blew me away; lofty expectations surpassed and then some. It takes the best parts of its peers and combines them into something greater. There’s the flavour execution of Brett Graham at The Ledbury, the theatre of Heston Blumenthal, the precision of Clare Smyth, the rural locale of Waterside Inn. Based on this meal, Moor Hall has its nose in front of all the aforementioned. Service was tip-top by every team member I met throughout the afternoon. Though by far the most expensive lunch or dinner of 2022, even with BYOB, I left without regret. Recently, discussions among food lovers focus on whether restaurants cruising at this level are economically viable or even relevant in these straitened times. Tastes are leaning more toward simpler cuisine, my own included. But every now and then, if the opportunity arrives, perhaps it is worth throwing caution to the wind, living life to the fullest and experiencing a chef and his kitchen’s mastery. It’s a memory that I will never forget. After Moor Hall, whenever somebody enquires about the best restaurant in the UK, I will not hesitate to reply.

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