The New Inn

Quirky Luxury

Why not visit one of our sister hotels:
Why not visit one of our sister hotels:

Guardian review 22nd December 2008 by Sally Shalam

As the economic doom and gloom deepens, special offers at hotels gather pace. For the past two months the New Inn, where the costliest rooms are around £180.00 a night, has been offering a free overnight stay to any couple having a three course meal in its restaurant (dinner costing £30.00 a head without drinks). This has now been replaced by a two for one deal.

The New Inn, in a tiny village called Coln St Aldwyns, is the latest addition to Hillbrooke hotels (joining The Bath Arms at Longleat and The Elephant at Pangbourne) usually characterised by Indian artefacts and bold colours.

We park at the rear and hunt for reception. A couple of buildings flank a coaching arch. Reception's on one side, the bar and restaurant the other. Tim's in a timbered room beneath the eaves of the main building, with a funny little bathroom down a steep flight of stairs, it's all chocolate and brass and kind of masculine. Mine, on the other hand, above reception in what is called the Dovecote, is red and black and deeply sexy. The black telly is so well camouflaged it's a full ten minutes before I spot it, while in Tim's room there is one screen fixed to a beam for horizontal viewing and another for when he's upright. See you in the bar at seven, I say.

"What are you doing up there?" he asks, arriving at the appointed hour to find me perched up on a windowseat. "It's the only seating with any padding," I reply from its elevated cushioned comfort.

Low wooden benches populate the bar. There is even one in front of the woodburner, in case one were momentarily to exchange the desire to relax by the blaze for sitting bolt upright. It's like Wagamama - and not in a good way.

Dining in the restaurant is a far from utilitarian experience, though. A tian of Cerney Ash goat's cheese, like a subtle rarebit with earthy beetroot and lamb's lettuce salad, is one of the best starter's I've ever had. "Terribly, terribly bad for you," says Tim with a mischievous grin, spearing the fat from his slow roast belly pork main, which come with a teensy toffee crab apple on top, and "just lovely" bubble and squeak. A rhubarb crème brulee is garnished with wafer thin crisp of rhubarb, and accompanied by lime sorbet.

"My room's a bit cold," I say at breakfast. "Really - mine's boiling," says Tim cheerily. We both think the restaurant for all its chocolate leather and claret-hued cosiness, is chilly. "What's with the fan heaters when there's that?" he says, nodding towards a huge but unused fireplace.

Breakfast is a proper affair, freshly squeezed juice in a jug, scrambled eggs with smoked Bibury trout, porridge with whisky and cream. I never thought I'd find myself quoting Noel Edmonds, but this place is worth a trip, deal or no deal.