Restaurants in England . Uncategorized

Winifred’s Popup from Chef Benjamin Cumberpatch: review

On November 18, 2024 by The Plate Licked Clean

Chef Benjamin Cumberpatch isn’t one to let the grass grow under his feet. Only a couple of days ago he cooked his final meals at The Stag Inn nearby, and now here he is on Hastings seafront with his debut popup Winifred’s.

Named after his partner’s great aunt, who loved her food as much as she loved feeding others, it evokes for Ben those old-fashioned virtues of comfort and welcome, that precious sense of being well looked-after.

I’d wanted to meet him for a while, to compliment him on what he did at The Stag. It always felt like food with heart and guts, food which made the Good Food Guide listing and AA Rosette seem well deserved. Meals there felt like being fed by someone who liked to eat. Really liked to eat.

Or as he puts it, ‘I feed like I like to eat. And I’m greedy.’

Portions were hefty: thumb-thick, gently blushing slices of Barbary duck breast arrived in fours, with the glossiest of patiently-reduced sauces and a gamey little faggot. A light sourdough crumpet, tangy with sauerkraut, came topped with an oozing rarebit and a thick tangle of braised short rib; a whopping tranche of roast cod was served with little seaweed-infused potato dumplings and cod cheeks done as delicate little scampi.

It was always hearty stuff and never gimmicky or fussy: cooking with a sense of generosity which never took itself too seriously. ‘Another F**king Pop Up’ runs the tagline on the logo, a mock-up of a jar which may or may not bear more than a passing resemblance to a famously divisive yeast extract-based spread.

That meeting never happened, though. Opportunities passed us by, from evenings which go so well you’re both in a rush to get each other home, to times the dining room was so busy it would be churlish to interrupt. ‘There’s no hiding in the kitchen now’ he tells me, half-wistfully, and there’s certainly no hiding at Wavey Bar. This tiny room nested below street level in The Courtyard- this hidden gem- (yes, for once, it’s merited) is home to Kaçper and Misha’s compellingly quirky cooking from no oven, just twin hobs and an eye-level grill.

They’re currently on holiday, which presents Winifred’s with an opportunity at short notice.

The music is a peach: Atlantic and Motown soul, lunch soundtracked by three minute epics of love and loss. A couple of very well-made Negronis start things off, alongside sourdough- even better if it had been lightly toasted, I think- and Marmite butter(£4). It’s there in the branding (and even a tattoo) but he admits to being obsessed with the stuff. If that’s not your thing, it won’t kill your meal: this is more subtly flavoured than some you’ll have had.

Lightly smoked prawns and seaweed mayonnaise (£9) is the Hastings shore on a plate: a tip of the hat to the rich tradition of day boats landing on the Stade nearby, and the access local kitchens have to the freshest produce.

Pressed potato (£8), a consummately executed pavé, is ladled with sweetcorn and perkily pickled mussels and all the better for it. You could read it as a play on cullen skink I suppose, but regardless it’s a lovely thing, a payload of starch and cream punctured by those little tart bursts. And when has that ever been a bad thing, in November or any month?

Venison tartare (£11) needs a touch more seasoning to bring it all together, but it’s a beautifully plated thing, the rich gold of that cured yolk oozing through the mixture and just begging to be piled on to the snap of those crackers. The meat, wild-harvested from the Sussex High Weald by Sustainable Meat Eater (aka ex-serviceman Russell Flowers) as part of his ‘strategic and ethical deer management’ solution to the damage done by deer, is bolstered by the tang of pickled mushrooms from local fun guy Basil making their presence felt.

There’s an affectionate nod to his family’s unvarnished attitude to his cooking (‘Don’t put any of that green shit on it!’) next: it’s that humble staple, sardines on toast, given a makeover.

Fat, lustrous fillets of cured sardine (£9) from Dan at Holy Mackerel in nearby Battle play against that ‘green shit’- a vivid, gremolata-like riot of tarragon, mint, parsley, chervil, garlic, red wine vinegar and capers, with a slug of English rapeseed oil-which virtually pings off the plate.

A plate of mutton faggots and gravy (£13) is a bearhug of pure cold season comfort. Throughout, and with the kitchen at Wavey Bar no more than six feet away, the waft of anticipation has nagged at us. They’re consummately well done, a loose-grained mix of porridge oats, mutton, offal and pork belly all minced, spiced and wrapped in caul fat. Another renowned local supplier, Beak and Tail, looms large, in what is perhaps the clearest showing of The Stag’s DNA, all bolstered with a richly creamed potato silkier than half the contents of the bedroom’s ‘special drawer’. It’s a memorable thing, and worth the wait.

It’s also a riff, Ben tells me, on memories of his Midlands upbringing and regular childhood dinners of Mr Brains’ faggots, another play on his nostalgia for simpler times, simpler food.

There’s a suitably indulgent finale with a thick, rich dark chocolate tart, tricked out with sea salt, and a beguiling plum ripple and bay leaf ice cream- well, we are just seconds from the beach, even in November- with a hint of the festive season to it, thanks to the fruit being steeped in red wine.

So: an impressive debut, as hoped. This is just the start: and certainly one to follow. I’d love to see Ben find his way to his own place locally, but right now this feels like an encouraging start of a journey I’ll be watching keenly, because cooking like Winifred’s is always welcome.

Follow Winifred’s on social media to know where Ben will be popping up next– you can do that here.