‘In a shady corner of this pub, some sanity was restored to 2021’
My bid to wax lyrical about The Compasses Inn in Crundale, Kent, comes with unfortunate timing. I’ve wanted to shout about this award-winning gastropub ever since I stopped by a month or so ago, curious as to why food folk speak about it in hallowed tones. The Compasses, it transpires, is tucked away in a sort of bucolic dreamworld about eight miles outside Ashford, where the A28 suddenly veers into twisty, squeakishly narrow lanes bedecked with overgrown hedges, hay bales, rugged barns, ivy trails and other things commonly found in hobbit stronghold the Shire.
The Compasses also has a large beer garden, although it feels churlish to call it that, because it’s more like a neatly cropped meadow with a picture-perfect child’s swing hanging from an ancient tree. I sat in the garden in August, eating affogato with a delicate long spoon. This is one of my very favourite desserts, joyful in its simplicity, and also so much bang for your buck: just a scoop of very good vanilla ice-cream in a short glass with a shot of espresso and another shot of a liqueur of your choice; I chose Tia Maria because, well, classy is as classy does.
