A table laid for supper in the low evening light of the dining room.

Whatever the day landed.

One sitting a night, five courses, written the afternoon it is cooked. The menu is a record of what the boats brought in and what the garden could spare.

We do not take an a la carte order, because the kitchen does not work that way. The chef walks down to the pier in the afternoon, sees what is there, and the supper follows from that.

It might be crab landed that morning, a piece of hake, mutton from the farm over the hill, sea greens off the rocks below. It is always short, always seasonal, and it is always at eight.

Tonight, in five.

An example sitting. The real one is written this afternoon.

First From the rocks Whatever was foraged below the house that day, dressed simply.
Second From the boats The catch, landed at the pier this afternoon. Often crab, often hake.
Third From the land The farm over the hill, or the garden, slow-cooked over the fire.
Fourth Cheese & the coast A board of Irish farmhouse cheese and whatever is ripe.
Fifth Something sweet Usually baked, usually warm, usually out of the orchard.

And then, the morning after.

Breakfast is laid from eight. Bread out of the oven, eggs from the yard, smoked fish, good coffee, and the same window you ate supper at, now full of grey morning light. Take as long as you like. Nobody is counting.

Reserve a sitting

Breakfast in grey morning light: bread, coffee, the window beyond.