The kitchen
Name the boat, or take it off the board.
Maren TrescothickChef-Patron
Maren Trescothick grew up gutting mackerel on Newlyn quay before she could reach the counter. She left Cornwall at nineteen for a decade in three-star kitchens — two years under Pascal Renaud in Lyon, four at The Anchor in Whitstable — and came back with a single idea: cook the coast she knew, over fire, and stop apologising for how plain that sounds.
She opened the Mousehole room in 2019 above a derelict pilchard works, with a wood-fired hearth built by a boatyard welder and a menu that changed with whatever the day-boats landed. The Salcombe room followed in 2023. Both are hers, cooked to the same rule she says out loud at every pass: name the boat, or take it off the board.
“I don't want to serve you a journey. I want to serve you a turbot that was in the sea this morning, cooked over oak, with the name of the boat that caught it. That's the whole idea.”
The larder
The boats, by name
We buy from six day-boats out of Newlyn and Mousehole — the Girl Rona, the Ocean Pride, the Cock & Sail among them. What they land sets the menu, not the other way round. If the weather keeps them in, the board is shorter and we say so.
Fire, not gas
Everything that can touch the embers does. A single wood-fired hearth at the pass, oak and ash, lit at four each afternoon. It is the loudest thing in a quiet room and it does most of the cooking.
Grown within thirty miles
Leaves from Bosavern at St Just, cheese from Lynher Dairies, honey from hives on the Lizard. The larder is small and stubbornly local, and the wine list leans into coastal whites that drink like the sea air.
Come and eat.
The board changes with the boats. Book a table at either coast and see what landed.
Reserve a table