Sefton Coast

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Rainforest showers, the Domesday Book, Parisian boulevards… and ravenous red squirrels

‘Life is uncertain, eat puddings’. No, it’s not a quote from Delia Smith’s latest cooking compendium, nor a pearl of wisdom passed on to me by my late grandmother, but a tempting invitation to sample a heady selection of mouth-watering desserts from the übercool Vincent Hotel’s internationally inspired menu.

Back when I lived in Southport as a student, haute cuisine was a kebab on the prom whilst wobbling home from the Floral Hall or the Scarisbrick Hotel bar. I was coming back in rather more style and I’d not long checked in to Southport’s premier boutique hotel – a far cry from your traditional seaside B&B – but it was late evening and I was in need of more than a little sustenance. Just a stone’s throw from The Vincent is the Warehouse Brasserie and having read a glowing report in The Independent that earmarked the eatery as one of the fifty best gourmet restaurants in the country not to mention being awarded the Bib Gourmand in the Michelin Guide for eight years in succession, it had a lot to live up to. But live up to the hype it did.

“A weekend of enjoying the delights of the Northwest’s Sefton Coast lay ahead. Now as you may know, the sea herself is a shy creature hereabout but the coast here is still a delight; 21 miles of wide, undulating, breathtaking beaches, secretive and sensuous sand dunes and attractive woodland. So after convincing myself that the extra calories would soon be worked off, I headed back to the Vincent and chose to round off a sensational meal by plumping for Stilton Cream with Poached Pear and Orange Pakchoi. Not your average pudding choice I know, but quite frankly, there’s nothing average about the Vincent Hotel.”

Retiring to the hotel bar, naturally, a heady mix of art deco and contemporary glamour, I ordered a nightcap and immediately struck up a conversation with the affable fellow serving me. On discovering my intentions for the days to come it didn’t take long for him to point me in the direction of Churchtown, a delightful little village situated on the northern fringe of South Hawes, as Southport was fondly known during the 17th century.

The next day, feeling more than a little refreshed after spending the night enveloped in goose down bedding, I hopped into a cab outside the hotel and with barely enough time to fasten my seat belt, I was transported to a chocolate box setting festooned with thatched cottages. Had I in fact happened upon the set of Midsomer Murders?

Of course, even a journey as short as mine is long enough for any ‘cabbie’ worth his salt to put the world to rights, but instead mine treated me to a neat potted history of my destination. Churchtown is featured it seems in the Domesday Book, where it is recorded as being ‘quit of the (Dane) geld…but rendered all other customs’. I hope the custom of delicious teashops is still alive and well I thought, as my cabbie delivered me to the heart of the village green. With my appetite for all things historical well and truly whetted, I made a beeline for the village’s Botanic Gardens and Museum. Decidedly local but not parochial, the museum offers a compelling insight into 19th century Southport. However, my attention was well and truly grabbed by a collection of artefacts and memorabilia marking the founding of the Eagle comic in Southport during the 1950s, which was a new one on me.