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THE STAR at Harome (pronounced 'Harum') used to be one of Yorkshire's legendary drinking parlours, celebrated for being, at the same time, both an unspoilt village pub and a place of curious revelry. My father and my uncles used to drink there in the late 1940s. The elderly J.B. Priestley would sup ale in a corner on occasional visits, his scowl defying strangers to engage him in conversation. The last landlord but one, Peter Gas- coigne-Mullet, an ex-monk and part-time organist, played loud classical tapes and served scorching Bloody Marys; I recall a family lunch about ten years ago at which the drink and the music took an unexpect- ed hold, reducing us all to high states of emotion.
But Peter moved on (sadly, to accompa- ny the choirs invisible) and a rather racy crew from York took over. There was still some eccentricity, but the place went to seed and finally closed down. In June this year, it re-opened under the ownership of Andrew and Jacquie Pern, who look set to
n1 in. *0111 make it famous again, not for loucheness but for thoroughly good eating.
Harome is a quiet, elongated village in the flatlands below the North York Moors, reached by winding lanes from the A170 between Helmsley and Kirkbymoorside. Its chief adornment is its cricket team, which once reached the national village champi- onship final at Lords. The low-thatched Star, where the cricketers drink, has been an inn since mediaeval times and (for those who like to know this sort of thing before they eat) is a prime example of a 14th-cen- tury truck-framed longhouse, the dining- room occupying what was originally a byre. The trucks, bent timbers rising from ground level to form a rounded capital A, are visible in the loft above the bar, where after-dinner coffee was served by the for- mer regime.
The Perns have replaced hectic floral wallpaper in the dining-room with an ele- gant yellow, but the late landlord's organ is still in its place and they have wisely left the bar as it was, with misshapen furniture from the Mouseman of Kilburn and boxes of dominoes kept in the stove. What is new is the menu, which can be eaten in the bar or the dining-room according to choice or space. I took two dog-walking friends to test it, and we thought it as good as (per- haps better than) anything to be found in the district.
Andrew Pern (former chef of the Mil- burn Arms at Rosedale in the middle of the moors, also worth the detour) was born in Whitby and trained in Scarborough, so nat- urally he is big on fresh fish. His Provençal fish soup was not what I expected — no rouille, no Mediterranean harbour-bottom pungency — but well flavoured neverthe- less. More striking was the oak-smoked fish broth, an assembly of salmon and scallops in a liquor made with pearl barley. A light duck pâté came with apple and vanilla chutney, on an artistically abstract plate.
For the main course we could have had Rosedale grouse, but we all stayed with fish. Monkfish tail with spinach and smoked bacon was simply presented and wholesome; roast turbot with wild mush- rooms in a light curry sauce was delicious, with an exotic selection of fungi; slight overcooking of a hotpot of cod and prawn on a bed of mashed potato made it indis- tinct in flavour and texture. Our only real criticism was of a general reticence in sea- soning, but we tucked in lustily, admired the stylish presentation and observed that — though quantities are more than ample for local trenchermen — nothing was too rich or too heavy. Bread and vegetables are good, and Mrs Pern runs the service with a solicitous smile.
We were eating in the bar, so by the time we reached pudding the gathering of bats- men and domino players had grown loud and smoky around us, but we were not to be put off, Bread-and-butter pudding with apricots was swiftly despatched; top marks went to a light lemon tart with raspberry coulis and a caramelised top (`This chap's bought himself a blowtorch,' my friend observed), on a handsome black plate. The wine list is short and modestly priced: the house white, a rather ordinary Pays d'Oc chardonnay, is £10, and the top of the range is a 1994 Chateauneuf du Pape for £19.45. Main courses range from £6.50 to £16.95, and the total bill for dinner for three, with a fine pint of Theakstons beforehand, was £74 — the upper end of the range for us frugal Yorkshiremen, but an absolute bargain for metropolitan sophisticates on tour. For those making a big night of it, Harome also offers a good hotel, the Pheasant (01439-771241), with a terrace overlooking the millpond and a full fried breakfast for the morning after.
The Star Inn, Harome, North Yorks; teL 01439 770397
Martin Vander Weyer
David Fingleton is unwell.
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