Samphire is a cacophony of bold, floral wallpapers, Kia-Ora-orange chairs, sage banquettes, fuchsia scatter cushions and accent lamps. The interior designers of the newly renovated Stanwell House boutique hotel in Lymington, Hampshire, were very brave, and have come up with a sort of “eruption in a Cath Kidston outlet” vibe, which I rather loved, not least because I often bemoan restaurants that are decked out in risk-free shades of beige, tapioca and silt, as if the management were neither committing to a theme, nor confident of staying open for very long at all. There’s none of that meekness at Samphire, though. From the off, the place screams: “We are one of the poshest restaurants in the New Forest, but we’re not one of those aloof, Scandi, trial-by-dinner spots where you have to pretend that live ants and raw duck offal are delicious. No, we’re just doing fish and potatoes and the like. Aunty Bertha will be completely safe here.”
Stanwell House’s refurbishment has resulted in three different dining options. There’s also the Salt Bar and the Orangery, which don’t take themselves too seriously and were packed with guests on the Saturday I visited, all of them eating club sandwiches, brisket and bone-marrow burgers, meze-style sharing boards and plates of doughnuts with coffee espuma for dipping. Meanwhile, Samphire, the fancier offering, which serves red-deer carpaccio, Shetland scallops and Lymington picked crab, was deserted. Or at least it was until we arrived; later, another couple arrived on a date, every word of whose conversation I could hear from six tables away (Sir, you were “friend-zoned” weeks ago; it was as unmissable as Samphire’s bottle-green, mock-Vaudeville wall lamps – sorry).
Samphire may struggle to attract daytime diners because it feels instinctively way more formal and fussy than its counterparts. In truth, though, the prices in all three options are roughly the same. That bar menu brisket burger is all of £18, while the chicken kiev with wilted greens, parsley emulsion and dauphine potatoes is £22. Meanwhile, in the posh bit that is Samphire, peppered fillet and belly of pork with pineapple puree and cavolo nero is £26, although you’d probably need a side of triple-cooked chips with that, which is an extra £5.
By and large, everything at Stanwell is rather expensive wherever you perch your bottom, but at least at Samphire you can eat your red-shrimp risotto with tomato pearls in the light from the pretty courtyard and the service involves a tad more tugging of the forelock. The risotto was gorgeous, by the way. No risotto, in 2023, can be truly groundbreaking, because it is merely damp rice with aspirations, but this was a butterscotch-coloured pool of loveliness with four large prawns atop a scattering of sea herbs.
Similarly, in the current upmarket-dining landscape, Samphire’s scallops in coriander oil and curry emulsion are nothing surprising, yet they were executed with aplomb and came in a guzzle-worthy sauce. Will I ever come back here? No. It is pretty and perfunctory. Am I glad it exists, and that other people can enjoy it? Yes. That said, do not order the chalk stream trout “pastrami”, because it is trout encrusted in sunflower seeds and served on a large, brown smear. I shall one day be awarded a damehood for services to ridding the British dining scene of all unsightly plate smears. Thank me later.
The catch of the day was a sole with its face and spine intact, but it was beautifully judged, with a honey-brown surface and the flakes just so, and armed with béarnaise sauce, confit garlic and lemon samphire. Another main of sea bass with leeks, celery and celeriac crumble was, at best, inoffensive. There is skilled, judicious cooking happening here, but there are also a lot of slightly old-hat ideas delivered in an instantly forgettable way.
Everything sweet that I saw looked delicious, from the Orangery’s pretty afternoon tea towers with their orange and cranberry scones, finger sandwiches and salted caramel choux buns to the dark chocolate and gingerbread marquise I tore through, lapping up the spiced rum creme fraiche. There’s also a honey cake with honey curd, honey ice-cream and milk panna cotta that they call, rather adorably, “To the Land of Milk and Honey”.
This is a boutique hotel that doesn’t skimp on the modern chintz, and where you could tear through the cash without ever being overwhelmed with emotion over the food or the service. Even so, you would be deeply grateful to be here, because the soft furnishings are so richly vibrant and, in winter 2023, everything outside its windows is so thoroughly depressing.
Yes, on balance, I’d rather be inside Samphire than out, eating the honey cake, enjoying the pleasantness and waiting for better days.
Samphire Stanwell House, 14-15 High Street, Lymington, Hampshire, 01590 677123. Open all week, lunch noon-2pm (3pm Sun), dinner 6-9pm. About £50 a head à la carte; £75 eight-course tasting menu, both plus drinks and service
