An Inspector Calls At... The Pig Hotel in Brockenhurst

We were not the slightest bit intimidated to arrive at The Pig in our old banger (but quite a fancy number plate, actually) and park next to a Ferrari, an Aston Martin, a Porshe and a couple of BMWs.
It’s just not that kind of place.

Somehow, from the moment we eased up the tree-lined drive about a mile from Brockenhurst on the edge of the New Forest we felt a residual warmth envelope us, helped in no small part by our first sighting of this gorgeous former hunting lodge (once owned by the Bowes-Lyons, cousins of the Queen), with its two stone lurchers standing guard either side of the portico entrance, the front door invitingly wide open, a stupendous oak tree creaking on the front lawn, crunchy drive, ponies in the field, beer in the fridge - hopefully.

This is the latest creation of Robin Hutson, founder of the Hotel du Vin chain, collaborator on Soho House and mastermind behind swanky Lime Wood, a short canter from here.
It opened 10 days ago and is an absolute triumph. Shabby but very, very chic is the theme.
Bare wood floors, kilin rugs, muted colours (nicotine ceiling in the drawing room), proper portraits, herbs in seed trays in the rustic dining room, a couple of watering cans sitting on the hall table, industrial lights, piles of books, old-fashioned school radiators, log baskets, ticking clocks, no meal times, a bird cage here, a Roberts radio there. Cosy. Fresh. Sexy.

Our room – one of 26 - wasn’t big but rooms start at £125, you could pay double elsewhere for something vastly inferior. Like at Hutson’s Lime Wood, for example, which we thought was a nonsense when it opened last year.
The Pig (easy name to remember and what John Peel affectionately used to call his wife) produces almost all its own vegetables and has a commitment to the 15-mile menu, 95 per cent of fresh ingredients are from the local area.

The menu starts with “Piggy Bits” (saddleback scratching & apple sauce) and then moves effortlessly through “Starters & Small Plates”, “Forest and Solent”, “Garden Sides” and a section called “Literally Picked This Morning” (crispy garden tempura, cavolo nero & blue cheese polenta).
We seemed to eat most of the menu and were so excited by the easy-going atmosphere that we drank far too much vino recommended by the sommelier, who next morning was fixing the toaster and toing and froing with plates of egg and soldiers.
After breakfast we went to inspect the kitchen garden. A couple of chefs in their whites were gathering what they needed for the day.
We followed a sign for the Potting Shed and reached a rickety hut near a lily-strewn pond. On opening the door, we realised this is where you get a massage, the bed sitting comfortably amongst garden string, clay pots, trowels, shovels, a candle or two.
Make no mistake, this little piggy will bring home the bacon - and deserves to do so.