Eat to Your Heart’s Content. It’s a great name for a cookbook, especially when you learn it was penned by an author recovering from emergency triple heart bypass surgery.
Two Michelin-starred chef Sat Bains suffered a near-fatal heart attack in March 2021, just a few weeks after his 50th birthday. During his recovery, he turned to his friend, nutritionist Dr. Neil Williams, for guidance on a heart-healthy diet. After three decades making some of the finest cuisine on the planet, there was no chance Sat was going to sacrifice on flavour – and this book is his love letter to healthy eating proving that nutritious food can still be bold and brilliant.
When we pull into Restaurant Sat Bains (RSB), the man with his name above the door is lifting logs from a wheel barrow, topping up a roaring fire pit; he looks fit as a fiddle and booms a hearty welcome across the driveway before we’re ushered into reception.
We’re handed a warming shot of hot chocolate that’s so delicious I’m tempted to ask for a refill. But then I think of my heart. Apparently Bains swapped regular 200g bars of Dairy Milk for the “occasional Freddo.” Everything in moderation, right?
After a brief stroll around the walled garden – where roughly 40% of the restaurant’s produce is grown – we head to our room to freshen up before dinner.
Classic FM is playing, fresh cookies are set on the sideboard, and the reassuringly opulent fragrance of a Bamford Candied Orange diffuser fills the air. Despite being less than two minutes from the A52 flyover, it feels a world away.
This isn’t a hotel in the traditional sense; it’s a restaurant with rooms, where the focus is firmly on its two Michelin stars – or three, counting the Green Star it has proudly retained since 2021. Sat Bains was the first restaurant in the UK to invest in a closed-loop composter, transforming kitchen waste into nutrient-rich compost within 24 hours to nourish its gardens. The honey, adding delicate sweetness to dishes, comes from the restaurant’s own beehives. And for a truly immersive experience, one of your courses is even served inside a greenhouse – but more on that later.
First, drinks in the bar where you’ll be presented with the menu for the evening. Well, I say ‘menu’. It’s closer to a work of art. It comprises colourful micro sketches of each dish you’ll be tasting – they’re Sat’s own doodles, which he creates as and when he dreams up a dish.
‘Dream’ is the operative word here. The first course – a parmesan pannacotta with whipped pumpkin soup – sounds bonkers on paper, but tastes incredible. The term ‘mouth feel’ may induce the odd eye roll, but I’m sorry, it has to be invoked at RSB: they are masters of making food feel as good as it tastes.
The bread is stellar: a sourdough bun cooked ciabatta-style served with Lincolnshire Poacher-infused butter? Yes, please. And the ‘treacle bun’? It’s as if a sticky toffee pudding and a bread roll had a baby.
Orkney scallop followed, swimming in a fresh tomato consommé which brought a delightful sharpness that literally tickled the tongue.
Jazzy potatoes were next, securing my ‘dish of the night’. They’re first poached then finished in the embers of a fire before being served on a bed of potato hollandaise and topped with flakes of translucent jamon Ibérico. Heaven, meet Earth.
A tuna tartare topped with fried seaweed and a side of wasabi was a clear cap doff to Sat’s time in Japan. He told me later: “A big turning point in my cooking came in 2007 when I went to Japan for a workshop on umami. That experience drastically changed my approach to cooking, introducing me to kaiseki and a lighter, more refined way of working with ingredients. It taught me to focus on the essence of ingredients, which remains central to what we do at the restaurant today.” The tuna tartare is a testament to this with ponzu and fennel lifting a dish that looks simple, but tastes incredibly complex.
A big turning point in my cooking came in 2007 when I went to Japan for a workshop on umami. That experience drastically changed my approach to cooking
It’s at this point in most tasting menu proceedings when the soporific effects of the food, wine and mood lighting can start to take their toll. (First world problems, I’ll admit.) But RSB has an innovative solution to this. You’re invited to join a chef outside where a wood-fired pizza oven warms the entrance to a herb-filled greenhouse. The chef proceeds to pour you a local beer and cook a miniature pizza topped with a light pesto sauce. The dough’s texture is exceptional; I asked what her secret was, and she quipped, “My tears”. It’s a recipe she’s been developing for a year and a half, constantly refining.
It’s this pursuit of excellence – of pushing everything to the nth degree – that really embodies RSB. Also, what’s not to like about an impromptu ‘beer and pizza’ course? Should be obligatory, I reckon.
Back inside, and rejuvenated by the fresh air, it’s on to brown hare two ways: loin tartare with cep and truffle, and a fore and hind quarter made into faggot. The faggot was my only miss of the night – just too gamey for my tastes.
For the mains, we had a choice of wild duck on truffle toast or turbot with a champagne velouté topped by N25 caviar. Obviously we went for one each, and duly battled over who got the third slice of truffle toast.
When your savoury stomach is fit to burst, a perfectly timed gear change comes in the form of ‘The Crossover’ helping you transition to what my wife calls her ‘second stomach’ – you know, the one that seems to suddenly have room for dessert.
A caramel miso paste coats the walls of an earthenware bowl, which is then encrusted with crushed sweet and salty popcorn. In the centre, sits a sweetcorn icecream ball into which a rich passion fruit syrup is poured (the yolk to the icecream's egg). It is toe-curlingly tasty, and sets you up for a one-two punch of knock-out desserts.
First, ‘Sherwood Forest’, a clever creation that not only plays on deconstructing the Black Forest gateaux, but also includes the lesser-spotted caramelised shiitake mushroom. (It really works – who knew?) This is joined by Earl Grey ice cream, miso fudge, coffee chocolate mousse, cherry, and homemade Aero chocolate – “the sexiest thing I’ve ever eaten,” claimed my wife – in an epic display of pastry chef technique and talent.
The final course is Sat’s take on ‘rhubarb and custard’, the latter coming in the form of feather-light meringue, topped with shavings of kefir lime and hibiscus.
Apparently, hibiscus is due to help with cholesterol and blood pressure. Which is just as well, really – all things considered.
Jodi Hinds
Of course, Sat himself doesn’t eat like this every day. This is, by any one’s standards, a real treat. On our way out, we’re invited to pop into the kitchen – Sat is happy to sign his books or the night’s artistic menu card. In his natural element, he’s a true master of ceremonies. The kitchen rotates around him; he exerts a kind of gravitational pull.
What is the secret to his success? “We strive to be unique. Many chefs have access to the same ingredients, but I’ve always believed it’s about how far you’re willing to push those ingredients to create something truly delicious.”
As we say our thank yous and head off to contemplate a digestif, we hear him bellow to the kitchen, “Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!”. Last year was Restaurant Sat Bains’ 25th anniversary, but Sat has the passion and energy of someone who’s only just getting started.
I check the inscription he’s written on our new copy of Eat to Your Heart’s Content. It says “Eat to live, live to eat”. Fine sentiments indeed.
See more at restaurantsatbains.com
