The Cock Inn, Headley

Well Wesley5742 it certainly appears that you like country pubs. Only registered today (23rd May) and already two glowing reviews, firstly the �Cock Inn� Boughton Monchelsea followed by the �Cock Inn� Headley - both within 18 minutes of each other; It almost seems as if you have some kind of vested interest in establishments named the �Cock Inn�, but surely that can�t be the case - can it?
Interesting though, must be some kind of coincidence � two dog friendly pubs, both named �Cock Inn� mutually blessed with indecorous landladies, I�ll wager the boffin�s at CAMRA would have to dig pretty deep to unearth such a quirky correlation.
Still I suppose if �dog friendly� means the odd sustained bout of yapping while you woof down you�re foie gras or possibly having to fish out one or two canine follicles from you�re pint of Green King IPA, then maybe this is just the pub for you.
Please, don�t be duped by pathetic attempts to polish up the tarnished reputation of this inadequate eatery. It may indeed be blessed with an idyllic location, but as practised diners will tell you, a banquet requires four elements in equal measure to impress � cuisine, wine, service and overall ambience � the Cock Inn Headley has been weighed, measured and found wanting in all areas.

P.S Perhaps somebody can explain to me why there�s still a giant Christmas decoration hanging in the middle of the restaurant area. Is this what passes for chic nowadays?

7 Jun 2011 19:05

The Cock Inn, Headley

Beware all those who enter - This is possibly the worst restaurant I�ve ever had the misfortune to frequent, for It�s abundantly clear that the owners of the �Cock Inn� in Headley have little or no experience in the field of hospitality or catering.
We booked a table for Friday 7:30pm, and although the receptionist behind the bar had trouble finding our reservation on the hastily torn piece of note paper she was eventually handed, I was prepared to grant clemency to first impressions; even if she found it impossible to pronounce our surname correctly.
We were shown to a table devoid of tablecloth, an overrated accessory that would evidently have cluttered the two upturned wine glasses and single set of cutlery so carefully wrapped in its paper napkin. The stained wine card nestled in between the salt and pepper pots, had clearly seen better days, but adventurously perhaps we settled on a bottle of the Rose and sat back to peruse the main menu.
Now in my opinion, any restaurant bold enough to advertise Ham, Egg and Chips next to Fillet Steak stuffed with foie gras deserves some kind of gastronomical accolade, but after careful deliberation, I finally enquired of the waiter whether the Michelin star French chef was able to prepare a simple fillet steak, stuffed with nothing more than love and affection. This seemed to confuse the poor fellow who promptly disappeared into the kitchen, but upon his triumphant return declared jubilantly that cook was more than equal to the challenge and how would I like it prepared? �Medium� I replied and went on to ask about the availability of sauces. �Well it normally comes with a peppercorn sauce sir� came the reply - woe betide it seems those who expect a selection, they�ll be sorely disappointed.
By this time the luke-warm wine had arrived in its bucket of iced water. Perceptively the waiter suggested that we might leave it to chill for a while, before swiftly trundling off to serve the four beer swilling women seated opposite � Have they never heard of wine coolers?
To be fair, the starters arrived in good time. My wife�s dish of six delicately flavoured pan seared scallops drizzled in an enigmatic sauce was in every way equal to my potato skins, however exactly how chef managed to slice the solitary cherry tomato into tiny quarters will forever remain an inscrutable mystery, but not so much a mystery as to why at this point the over eager receptionist, who possibly keen on impressing the establishments efficiency co-ordinator, approached the table asking if we�d like to see the dessert menu.
You know someone should really inform restaurant owner�s that flamboyantly shaped over-sized dinner plates only serve to exaggerate meagre portions, and should not be used as an excuse to charge exorbitant prices for what can only be described as mediocrity. That�s not to say that I�m opposed to the odd bit of Nouvelle cuisine, just as long as it�s supported by quality, something I�m afraid my two-inch diameter piece of fillet steak was sadly lacking in. But the coup de grace as chef might say, wasn�t its size, nor the fact that it was under cooked (medium rare) the fact was that despite the forced assurance of a peppercorns the dish was delivered swathed in a Madeira sauce, which although unexpected did serve to soften the diminutive array of vegetables, vegetables it has to be said that elevate the term �El Dente� to a new level of exploration.
From the moment my wife and I were seated to the moment we departed, the so-called restaurant proved a shining example as to why diners should always search the review columns before parting with their hard earned cash. Having arrived on time and feasted on less than adequate fare, the evening may not have proved such an emphatic disaster had the advertised entertainment been half-way decent. The truth of the matter is - it wasn�t. One of the main attractions that initially drew us to the venue was the promise of an evening with Michael Buble or at least a respectable impersonation provided by a certain Warren Burton. �He is so cool!� The internet announcement boasts � so cool in fact, he didn�t bother to turn up � at least not when we were told. �He arrives somewhere between 8:00-8:15� the booking assistant advised my Wife. In the end we finally decided enough was enough and left at 8:55 having had our buble well and truly burst!

7 Jun 2011 19:02