Time for Tea: The Sportsman, Mogador, Lower Kingswood

By mdavison

There was great excitement in the air. The first snow of winter had arrived. Out of a cold, steel-grey sky, feathery flakes began to fall and faces gathered at house and workplace windows to witness the spectacle.

It wasn't much of a snowfall but nevertheless gave a festive feel in the run up to Christmas.

The snow continued throughout the morning and by lunchtime, trees, gardens and parks had been gently whitened.

I ventured out into the chill air and decided to motor up to Mogador for a stroll on Banstead Heath and a bite to eat at The Sportsman.

Quite a few others had the same idea and a number of dogs, rejuvenated by the arrival of the snow, bounded out of hatchbacks for a boisterous walk across the common.

After a while, I shook the snow off my shoes and ventured inside to be greeted in the entrance by a stylish Christmas tree with white bulbs on its lights and "presents" wrapped in silver paper and bound with blue ribbon lying at its base. On a wall close by, a picture of a snowy woodland scene hung. I thought how apt this was.

I took a seat near the tree. On the next table, a group of ladies were doing lunch and had just been served with their meal.

"Mmmm, this salmon is delicious," commented one.

Another asked her friend: "What are your plans for Christmas Day?" The answer was: "We're not 100 per cent sure. We've booked somewhere for Christmas Day but she's not too good at the moment."

Another lady nearby peered out of the window and whispered to her companion: "Look! It's snowing again." Others gazed out at the pretty scene. A filigree of snow decorated the bare branches of the trees.

I perused the menu and my mouth watered at some of the hot dishes available. I opted for the mushroom and marrow crumble. It comprised marrow stuffed with mushroom Duxelle, capped with Cashel Irish blue cheese, chopped hazelnuts and toasted breadcrumbs and finished with a beetroot and balsamic glaze. (£10.95).

Among the other dishes I could have selected was sun-blushed tomato and butternut squash risotto which was flavoured with fennel and cumin seeds and finished with shaved parmesan (£9.95).

Some tasty "succulent" burgers were also available, "made by our butcher". Next time I may pick the "winter burger", topped with warmed cranberry sauce and melted blue cheese.

The sweets included rhubarb, peach and ginger crumble with custard (£5.45).

Coffee and tea were always on the menu and, once again, there was a good choice. Teas included fruit and herbal varieties. Coffees included French (with brandy), Calypso (with Tia Maria), Irish and Italian. I opted for a tall glass of hot chocolate.

The Sportsman is said to be an 18th century former royal hunting lodge.

A conversation I had later on with a villager and historian in Lower Kingswood failed to explain the odd name Mogador.

She told me: "We've never, never been able to find out. Not even Pia Chamberlain, who is writing the history of Kingswood, can find out."

She asked me when I made my visit to Mogador and when I furnished her with the details, she replied: "You were lucky. A couple of hours later, there was an accident in Mogador Road. We had the fire brigade up here and the road was closed for two hours. No one could get into Mogador in that time as the only way in and out is Mogador Road."

I thought to myself that I wouldn't have minded being marooned at The Sportsman, especially if I was sitting next to one of its warm and welcoming log fires.

During my visit, the table at which I sat had a tea-light lit in a candle holder in the shape of an angel.

It certainly added to the festive atmosphere as did the long strands of tinsel festooning the bar and entwined with white fairy lights.

I glanced at a notice on the wall which gave the opening hours over the seasonal holidays. It stated that the restaurant was fully booked on Christmas Day.

I have only once been to a restaurant on the big day, and that was to The Goat near Shepperton when my grandfather was alive. He wanted to treat everyone to a meal out. Although it was very pleasant, it somehow wasn't quite the same as having a family roast at home.

As I sipped the creamy hot chocolate, I thought back to other Christmases with the grandparents: the Fair Isle gloves a great aunt always gave as presents; Lego sets, Meccano, Tinkertoy, and chemistry sets for boys. And wrapping paper that was scooped off the floor, straightened and kept for the following Christmas.

The chocolate was finished and a few chores needed to be done in town. I had to depart, leaving the lunching ladies and a table of white-shirted businessmen to finish their dinners.

The snow continued to fall, albeit half-heartedly. The farm fields looked bleak in the winter gloom.

Low cloud shrouded the tops of the hills.

Soon I was in the town centre. It seemed a world away from the little hamlet atop the North Downs.

Mark Davison