Lincoln, as our Castle-guide, Kerry, proudly reminded us, was pivotal to some of the defining moments of English history. And if its bustling old city is an architectural timeline through the ages – a shifting pageant of Roman, Medieval, vaulted Gothic, unsteady Elizabethan and studied Georgian – we should not forget that the Second Battle of Lincoln, which unfolded outside the Castle’s East Gate in 1217, represented a re-assertion of authority for the beleaguered monarchy of King John. The suppression of a baronial uprising, predicated on John’s non-adherence to the tenets of the Magna Carta, and supported by King Louis of France, may have prevented a second Norman conquest. As if to enshrine this moment in time, one surviving copy of the document sealed at Runnymede is currently on display in the Castle’s Victorian prison.

One point in an illustrious, if negotiated, history, just as the building of the cathedral, under the stewardship of William the Conqueror, is another. Steroidally impressive, overseeing the hilltop skyline like a brooding clergyman, Lincoln’s Minster bears down on the harried soul as witheringly as its choir at Evensong, to whose crystalline sonority we can attest as we sneaked in one of the side doors to take a furtive pew.

And a perfect prelude to our visit to another iconic figure in Lincoln’s landscape – the White Hart Hotel, whose elegant eighteenth century frontage betrays a much longer history. Originally built as a lodging house for the visit of Richard II in 1386, the hotel has been reinvented by accretion, enhanced over several centuries to create, in 1749, the facade we might now recognise. Extending way beyond and behind the limitations of its stately front overlooking the city’s Bailgate, the White Hart’s interior is a triumph of aesthetic ambition, a Tardis-like cornucopia of rooms whose proportions and design are a testament to the sterling efforts of Andrew Long, the Lincolnshire-born owner of the Loxley Group. Beginning a programme of refurbishment in 2022, the hotel now boasts four more bedrooms in the adjacent half-timbered sixteenth century Leigh Pemberton House, in the wake of an extensive overhaul of the main hotel, which now includes the ambient and relaxed Colonnade Cocktail Bar and the Gibson Club Bar, a diverting pictorial tribute to Guy Gibson’s Dambuster Squadron, who were based at nearby RAF Scampton.

Nor, as seems fitting, does the White Hart demur at quality or service. Tastefully appointed and spacious – the bathroom in our Deluxe room was almost as big as the adjacent bedroom – great emphasis is placed on relaxation and comfort. All potential needs are anticipated in this luxurious escape, including, but by no means limited to, an in-situ fridge, a safe, an iron with board, a free-standing bath, his and hers sinks, bathrobes, Queen-sized bed, plump pillows and that great weakener of pre-prandial resolve, gin and tonic in frosted glasses. It was difficult to guess what more delights an overnight stay might yield…

...though we were soon fulsomely rewarded in another of Andrew Long’s sympathetic renovations – the Antlers Restaurant, where three courses, served in a lovely, commodious yet welcoming space, beckoned. I began the evening with a glass of Beavertown’s excellent and always reliable Neck Oil (thirst overcame the desire for an aperitif), as my partner, on the recommendation of the ever-attentive and engaging waiter-cum-somelier Keenan, plumped for a Le Campuget Syrah Grenache Rosé, whose fruity notes complemented the rich smoothness of a chicken parfait perfectly. Served with toasted hazelnuts, a red onion marmalade and warmed sourdough, Helenne declared the starter a resounding success. My selection of a curried cauliflower soup broke the taste barrier in smoothness and consistency, the flavour of the cauliflower never quite overwhelmed by the piquant distinctness of the curry spices, and whipped into harmonic unison.

Very taken with the Languedoc Rosé, Helenne felt no inclination to change a winning formula and opted for another glass to accompany her main course. The
à la carte menu offered a sufficiency of individual elements without swamping the diner in an unsustainable level of choice. The menu was rich in the promise of locally-sourced produce, and whilst otherwise tempted by the loin of lamb, and the free-range chicken schnitzel with truffle mayonnaise, she was decisively lured by the dry-aged steak burger, served with a meze of gherkins, cheese, red onion and bacon chutney, homemade slaw, and, of course, seasoned fries. Accustomed to her leaving food, I can say with confidence that on this occasion she left nothing, save for the forkful of burger I stole when she looked the other way for a moment. And I can also confirm that the chef does not use the word ‘steak’ lightly, for this is the real article, devoid of fat and gristle, and cooked to melt in the mouth. Delicious.

I was similarly riven: was it to be the butter-roasted cod loin served with caviar, or the fillet of sea bass? In the end I opted for the latter, and chose a light, if counter-intuitive, glass of Merlot as an inoffensive counterpoint to the fish; oddly refreshing in context, the red seemed to bring out additional flavours in the sea bass, though there may have been a stronger connection between it and the buttered spinach, asparagus, braised fennel and sage and onion hash brown accompaniments. The fish was perfect, falling off the fork, its passage eased by the champagne beurre blanc.

Food prepared and presented with skill and forethought need not be compromised by considerations of quantity: well balanced ingredients, as we found at the White Hart, both satisfy the taste buds and prepare the palate for the delightful assault of the dessert. Opting for the 'compare and contrast' of two distinct puddings – Helenne chose the cheesecake and I the custard tart, neither of which term is adequate to the task of describing the explosion of hidden flavours encapsulated in each. The cheesecake – a vanilla and white chocolate ‘cheese’ topped with raspberry, and presented with a mixed berry sorbet on a drizzle of lemon curd coulis, was a thing of geometrical beauty, a perfect sensory lozenge, combining the substance of the cake with the fluffy lightness of the sorbet. Performing a similar function of contrast on my own plate, the not-too-sweet solidity of the tart was neatly offset by both the ripeness of the local strawberries, the meringue in cremeux, and the fruity sorbet.

Demurring on coffee, we made our way out into the night air for a stroll before bed, and marvelled at the quality of the food and of the service at the White Hart. The hotel will be a hard act to follow in an admittedly glutted marketplace. Aiming unashamedly at the upper end of the consumer spectrum, but with an aptitude for welcoming friendliness and hospitality that seriously undercuts any claim to elitism – all of the staff we met were effortlessly cheerful – the White Hart may look forward to a future as long as its past. And in the meantime, we look forward to returning when the hotel’s ambitious plan to open an in-situ Spa and swimming pool finally bears fruit.

The White Hart Hotel
Bailgate Lincoln LN1 3AR
01522 526 222
info@whitehart-lincoln.co.uk
https://whitehart-lincoln.co.uk/our-hotel