The Cotswolds have conquered cosy. What comes next?

‘They’ve conquered cosy,’ observed Jean-François Rial, chief executive of luxury travel specialist Voyageurs du Monde, over dinner in London. A perceptive diagnosis of a region which has turned reassuringly irregular stonework, roaring fires, and an apparently inexhaustible supply of cushions into an international industry.

Accompanied by my wife and our nine-year-old daughter Lyra, I set off to test the proposition across three hotels, travelling from Tetbury through Painswick to Castle Combe. Along the way we encounter kitchens of ambition, South American livestock enjoying a second career in the English wedding industry, and country-house hospitality which occasionally exceeds its own publicity.

Calcot & Spa

Calcot & Spa: Taking comfort to new heights

Founded as a hotel in 1984, Calcot & Spa was once a considerably more formal proposition. Richard Ball helped loosen the starch, recognising that welcoming children need not entail abandoning civilisation. It is a transformation which has arguably made the property more interesting.

Our treehouse is called Skylark, although it would be more accurate to describe it as a remarkably well-appointed timber residence which happens to be elevated.

Designed and built by Blue Forest, the two new Treehouses occupy part of Calcot’s 220-acre estate near Tetbury. Ours contains two bedrooms, a kitchen, extraordinarily soft bedding, and a complimentary pantry stocked with soft drinks. A private sauna occupies the terrace, from which blue tits can be observed at close quarters without the inconvenience of sharing their temperature.

Rather than the customary collection of battered picture books, the children’s bedroom contains a handsome Hans Christian Andersen anthology, ostensibly for Lyra, although its cautionary tales of vanity, greed and unfortunate bargains are hardly restricted to children. A Tolkien quotation - ‘not all those who wander are lost’ - lends the bathroom further literary authority.

Breakfast can arrive in a hamper, with the possibility of caviar and a half-bottle of Taittinger, should the morning require alcoholic compensation for the pantry’s temperance.

Elsewhere, the spa offers fireside bathing, an inviting pool heated from below and guided contrast therapy. I decline the latter. On a rainy autumn day, alternating between extreme temperatures strikes me as an unnecessarily elaborate way of recreating a malfunctioning boiler.

Skylark Treehouse

Children are everywhere, although the atmosphere is remarkably composed. In the Brasserie, younger diners confidently order Rainforest mocktails. Lyra, who regards children’s menus with considerable suspicion, is particularly comfortable. Adults, meanwhile, enjoy the blessed absence of background music.

The cooking is considerably better than it needs to be. Gloucestershire-born executive chef John Jewell began his career at Calcot in 2005 before working at Gordon Ramsay’s Maze and at several ambitious Cotswolds kitchens. These included Barnsley House and The Village Pub, now part of The Pig collection. His return in 2024 has brought admirable seriousness to a restaurant which could probably survive on location alone.

A substantial scallop is magnificent. Pigeon Wellington arrives with foie gras and the bird’s legs alongside, a level of generosity recalling the Savoy Grill rather than the average country-house brasserie. Seasoning is unusually restrained, to the dishes’ advantage. Even the cauliflower cheese retains a proper al dente bite. One admires a kitchen lavishing such attention on dinner when a substantial proportion of its audience is less than four feet tall.

The dining room’s herringbone chairs contribute a discreet Art Deco note, while service, particularly from the exceptionally helpful Edith, combines warmth with efficiency.

Nearby, Cirencester’s Corinium Museum supplies a different perspective on civilisation. Alongside a Roman eyebrow comb of suspiciously generous proportions is evidence of what ancient teachers could earn. Rhetoric commanded five times the rate for gymnastics. One wonders what those Romans would make of a Premier League footballer’s weekly wages.

With bicycles, tennis, gardens and a Playbarn, Calcot has become more welcoming without becoming less grown-up. Parents are encouraged to remember that they have identities beyond parenthood.

The Painswick

Patrick Partridge

The Painswick: Alpacas, architecture and hidden ambition

Painswick grew wealthy on wool, a prosperity still evident in its handsome stone buildings. Our next hotel, part of the same Calcot Collection, occupies a Palladian house which became the village vicarage in 1897. Reverend William Henry Seddon employed architect Detmar Blow to enlarge it. His wife, Isobel, was the daughter of a proprietor of Lea & Perrins Worcestershire Sauce, whose fortune reportedly helped finance the improvements. Today, the hotel’s restaurant is called SAUCE. One trusts the coincidence is not lost on its chef.

Painswick’s streets encourage visitors to slow down, partly in admiration and partly because two approaching cars cannot necessarily pass one another.

George’s Suite, apparently named after the hotel’s fictional sheep mascot, a nod to Painswick’s wool-trading past, has a sitting room with wood burner and a stone balcony furnished with wicker chairs and lanterns, overlooking the garden and rolling hills beyond.

Before dinner, we walk downhill to meet the residents of Tibbiwell Alpacas. Their owners, Sean and Sandie Randle, have assembled an engaging cast including Pan, Apollo, Pablo, Tegan, and the magnificently named herd leader, Dumbledore. Two miniature Shetland ponies, Mr Bojangles and Elsa, complete the company.

Sean is a musician, while Sandie is an anthropologist. Between them, they seem exceptionally well qualified to understand creatures whose behaviour can be both entertaining and inscrutable. Lyra, meanwhile, declares that Sean looks like an alpaca and sleeps in the stable. It is a remarkably comprehensive assessment of a man she has only just met.

Tibbiwell Alpacas

Originally from the South American Andes, alpacas make wonderfully improbable additions to the Gloucestershire landscape. Their individual personalities are unmistakable. They are also occasionally enlisted for weddings, presumably offering an alternative to the customary speeches.

Back at the hotel, SAUCE is overseen by Kian Puerta-Terron, a young chef whose straightforward-looking menu conceals an unexpectedly elaborate culinary education.

His grandparents still run a pub in Bude, Cornwall, where he began washing pots aged eight before spending summers alternating between work and the beach. His subsequent career has taken him through three Michelin-starred kitchens: Cheltenham’s Lumière, Paul Ainsworth at No.6 in Padstow, and Bristol’s Bulrush. The latter proved particularly influential, its combination of foraging, Japanese techniques and classical foundations encouraging him to look beyond conventional British combinations.

Chicken and mushroom-stuffed padrón peppers, accompanied by quince and port ketchup, sound relatively straightforward. Inside, however, is a chicken mousse enriched with roasted mushrooms and black garlic, borrowing something from classical French cooking and something from Spain, a country to which Kian has family connections.

West End Farm pork loin and glazed cheek with ancho chilli mole and Swiss chard involve still greater complexity. The pork is brushed with koji and smoked over the barbecue, while the mole incorporates seeds, dried fruit and tamarind. Fresh and fermented kumquats provide acidity against the richness.

Kian Puerta-Terron

Patrick Partridge

The result is slightly sweet, with sauces of considerable complexity. One suspects a bottle of Lea & Perrins would be rather out of its depth.

Almost none of this labour is apparent from the menu.

‘There’s lots going on in the background,’ Kian explains. He prefers to let technique elevate the dish rather than advertise every intervention.

Certain established favourites, including twice-baked soufflé (also available at Calcot & Spa) and beef Wellington, remain for regulars. Elsewhere, his cooking is increasingly adventurous. He discusses fig leaves used for their coconut-like character, Southeast Asian citrus and meadowsweet gathered from nearby hedgerows for desserts. His Ukrainian pastry chef, Lula, brings precision to the sweeter side of the operation.

Breakfast coffee is particularly good, while homemade flapjacks accompany our departure.

The Painswick is a hotel whose relaxed presentation conceals considerable thought. Its chef may be its best-kept secret.

The Manor House

PRESS HANDOUT

The Manor House: Beyond Castle Combe’s sugar-coated perfection

Castle Combe looks as though it was designed by somebody who considered the rest of England insufficiently picturesque. Tourists swarm through the village beyond The Manor House’s gates in such numbers that, viewed from a distance, they resemble ants crawling over a sugar lump.

The warm stone cottages, ancient church, and narrow streets have repeatedly attracted filmmakers. Inside the church, where traces of historic wall painting survive, a display recalls the filming of War Horse locally.

Beyond the crowds, The Manor House occupies 365 acres of parkland, formal gardens, woodland and cottages converted into accommodation. The principal building, covered in ivy turning red, resembles a country seat which has learned to accommodate paying guests without entirely surrendering its dignity.

The Manor House belongs to Exclusive Collection, founded in 1981 by Giuseppe Pecorelli, an Italian hotelier who rose to managing director of both Trust House Forte and Ciga Hotels before establishing his own empire. Having been practically brought up on Trust House Forte’s cream of tomato soup, I feel a certain filial attachment to the story, if regrettably no financial interest. His collection now includes Pennyhill Park, South Lodge, Lainston House, Royal Berkshire, Fanhams Hall and Ansty Hall, alongside The Manor House. His wife Penny helped select the properties, furniture and antiques.

We arrive as staff appear to be exhaling after a two-day wedding celebration.

Our room, Albiness, is one of 20 in the main house, with views across the parkland in two directions. Its bed is seemingly ten feet wide, substantial enough to make locating one’s spouse an expedition.

The Manor House

A welcome gift comprises Red Devil, Spartan and Cox apple juices, a pleasing reminder that orchards can be every bit as expressive of place as vineyards.

The grounds merit exploration beyond the hotel’s principal façade. Italian gardens provide formal symmetry, while walks beside the Bybrook offer something less disciplined. There are beehives, an orchard, and productive kitchen gardens whose contents make the short journey to the estate’s restaurants.

Gardener Edie tends beds containing, among other things, mineral chard. It is satisfying to encounter the ingredients before somebody has arranged them into an elaborate composition on porcelain.

Further afield lies an 18-hole, par-72 championship golf course designed by Peter Alliss and Clive Clark. Walkers venturing towards it encounter golfers with distinctly territorial instincts, although they are more than happy to direct guests towards the correct footpaths fringing their fairways. Their directions are impeccably courteous; their sense of ownership no less apparent.

The Castle Inn

A short walk into the village leads to The Castle Inn, a substantial establishment with 12 bedrooms above. Its focused menu includes an exuberant Ploughman’s, incorporating a pork, stuffing and Stornoway black pudding sausage roll, Bath Soft Cheese, piccalilli and something wonderfully named Hogs Inn Duvets. Ramsbury beer, produced with a field-to-glass philosophy, makes a persuasive proposition on draught.

The estate’s principal gastronomic attraction is Bybrook, the Michelin-starred restaurant overseen by Robert Potter. Its dining room, redesigned by Trevillion Interiors, negotiates between country-house heritage and contemporary elegance.

Potter arrived in 2016 following appointments at Lucknam Park and The Royal Oak Paley Street. It is an impressive pedigree, evident in cooking which is technically assured without becoming gratuitously complicated.

Our dinner comprises four courses, although a more extensive menu is also available. Among the additional temptations is an apple tarte Tatin made with fruit from the estate.

Potter’s signature Chalk Stream trout with Porthilly oyster and English wasabi, enclosed in squid-ink shell, is more concerned with flavour than aggressive heat.

Bread deserves its own paragraph. A towering brioche is gloriously flaky and comforting, while a glossy, pillowy roll made with Ramsbury beer arrives with Ampersand butter.

Wild fallow deer

Devon crab with XO, finger lime and warm bisque offers greater intricacy. Beneath the picked crab sits a jelly with something of the texture of foie gras parfait. Citrus cuts through the richness, while the bread proves an excellent instrument for retrieving the last of the bisque.

Wild fallow deer follows, pink and faintly smoky, accompanied by Delica pumpkin, chanterelles, and Wiltshire truffle. A cabbage parcel encloses another preparation of deer with the concentrated savouriness of saucisson.

Pastry chef Luke Woodward proves every bit as accomplished as his savoury colleagues. Dessert brings superb fig-leaf ice cream together with blackberry, sheep’s milk and almond, supported by salted caramel. Portions are modest but deceptively rich. Petit fours include excellent canelé, baked in copper moulds, and a sharply refreshing clementine pâte de fruits. His exceptional breakfast pastries confirm that his talents are by no means confined to the evening.

At the end of dinner, we are presented with chocolates in a box addressed to us by name. It is an appealingly personal farewell.

If Bybrook represents the estate at its most elaborate, breakfast demonstrates its command of simpler pleasures. It is the best of our trip: poached egg, smoked haddock and spinach, the fish contributing gentle smokiness to a combination requiring neither embellishment nor reinvention.

The Manor House

Beyond the postcard

The achievement of these hotels is not simply that they offer three different interpretations of comfort.

At Calcot, genuine gastronomic skill coexists with an understanding of families. The Painswick brings technical sophistication to the more intimate, informal atmosphere of a townhouse hotel, without frightening away the neighbours. The Manor House combines a remarkable physical inheritance with cooking which makes the journey worthwhile even for those unmoved by honey-coloured stone.

All three understand that hospitality requires more than architectural preservation, thread counts, and an enthusiastic application of cushions.

Rial was right. The Cotswolds have conquered cosy. Now their better hotels are proving that a glorious view need not be the most interesting thing on the plate.