A culinary journey
- 4 days ago
- 5 min read
Words by Jamie Crocker
An invitation to foray into the flavours of Topsham’s rich seafood history.
I’ve tried. I really have. It’s been a lifetime spent trying to cure myself of an aversion that has left me feeling that I’m missing out on something special.
In Royan, a Dali-esque platter of shellfish winked at me from the open window of a beachside restaurant like an edible sculpture. I admired it enormously, right up to the point where someone suggested we enter the establishment and try it for ourselves. In Cambrai, my eldest son, all of eleven years old, demolished a bucket of moules with the swagger of a Breton fisherman, while I sought refuge in the altogether less adventurous embrace of steak tartare. There is, it seems, something hardwired within me that simply refuses anything hauled ashore by net, line or lobster pot. I can admire seafood all day long; I just don’t appear to possess the final, crucial ingredient required to eat it.
So, it was with a great deal of reluctance that I decided to order the Cornish market fish. As the waiter walked away after taking our order, my only thought was, ‘what have I done?!’ If only I’d had the courage to shout across the dining room to call him back to say that it had been a terrible mistake and that what I really wanted was the Lashbrook Farm Crispy pork chop accompanied by Asian salad, pickled Daikon, Goma dressing and a Japanese curry sauce. On this particular Saturday evening, at the Galley Restaurant in Topsham, courage was somewhere outside enjoying the harbourside view. Recognising my angst-contorted face, my wife reached for my hand under the table, looked into my eyes and said, ‘It’s going to be okay.’
Thank goodness for wine. A glass of The Galley White from the Pays d’Oc region of France brought with its citrus notes and general lightness a refreshing sense of calm. Having proposed a toast, my wife was congratulating our decision to break the journey to Cornwall in this small harbour town. A choice that does not come easily to those seeking sun, sea and surf in one of England’s top holiday counties. It’s usually a question of packing the car up the night before and setting off at some ungodly hour to avoid everyone else, who weirdly have also decided to do the same thing, so you still end up getting caught in the bottlenecks along the A303 or A30 as you make your way west. You just can’t win. Or can you?
In days of yore, when I was a child, travelling to Prussia Cove or Penzance meant a two-day journey in my father’s Morris Traveller, with a stop-over in the Cotswolds to break the journey and to let my mother recover from travelling at a mind-numbing fifty miles an hour all day. It was a civilised affair.
For our particular sojourn, we’d decided to heretically dip our wheels into those halcyon days of slower journeying. Topsham seemed a logical place to break the journey, affording us a leisurely start in the morning and the opportunity to appreciate some relaxed dining in the evening, after a stroll around what reads like one of the kingdom’s more appealing small towns – Dutch-inspired architecture, interesting maritime history and a stunning waterfront where my courage was still hanging out. So far so good – if only I hadn’t ordered the fish dish.
Tearing off a chunk of sourdough supplied by the local Hylsten Bakery I began to mull over my choice. At least the starter I’d opted for would plug a hole until breakfast. A frisson of expectation suddenly ran around our quartet as the expression on my daughter’s face indicated that she’d intuitively spotted our order heading towards us. It was as if an invisible herald had silently announced its imminent arrival to her.
Plates of St Austell mussels, grilled ox tongue and Chew Valley burrata – two of each – were soon placed before us. As it happened, the starters were magnificent, as one would expect from an award-winning restaurant. Each dish bore the unmistakable touch of head chef Han Wang, whose subtle Eastern influences elevated the familiar: a hint of coriander and lime here, an accompanying Thai salad there.
Buoyed by such an impressive opening, my earlier trepidation about ordering fish for the main course began to seem entirely misplaced.
When we’d finished and our empty dishes were whisked away with the confident surety of a professional, we sat back and awaited the arrival of our main courses. Two plates of Prosecco battered fish and chips were delivered with the same aplomb, as well as the pork dish that looked incredible to my envious eyes. Oh, to have been my daughter at that moment. Mine was last. Of course, I was naturally wary of my first impression. It looked like art on a plate, as if prepared by a consummate practitioner who knows their gouache from their tempera. This was fish, though; a quick swig and I girded myself for the disappointment.
Oh, my word. Surely this couldn’t be happening. There was no negative reflex response that I normally must endure when taking a first mouthful of something that has lived in water. This was edible. More than this – to describe it as good, both in terms of taste and texture, would be like saying Anthony Hopkins is a passable actor. I hadn’t been this overwhelmed since dining in Lyon back in the early 2000s. I was beginning to mentally picture myself walking to the kitchen to congratulate Han on this culinary achievement. The fish flaked away, falling into the clam and white miso chowder that it had previously been sitting on top of, the chilli pickle mussels and bonito flakes and herbs elevating the experience to something that can only really be expressed by tasting it for yourself. I was converted – at least on this evening at the Galley.
We talked and laughed, enjoying what was put before us, including an array of desserts, that I unfortunately don’t have the space to wax lyrical about here. At some point in the evening, Patrick, the owner, came over to see if we were happy. We fell into chatting about his passion for buying local and having retained the Michelin Bib Gourmand since 2023.
So, if you consider yourself a gastronaut who is compromised by an aversion to seafood, or someone who enjoys all that is put before them, if it’s prepared with care, then the Galley at Topsham is the place for you. And if you’re a Cornwall addict into the bargain, who regularly travels there, then why not do what we did? Book a room for the night, wander around the harbour and dine at this wonderful little restaurant. Or alternatively make it your lunch stop on the way home when you’ll be able to feast from the Prix Fixe menu. It will provide that added dimension that has been missing from your trips to the west country in the past.
