Hannah Gregory heads to Glastonbury to visit a 17th century coaching in turned Middle Eastern modern eatery centred around local produce, traditional ingredients and a lot of love.
In the autumn of 2023, Chef Ayesha Kalaji burst onto our screens during her time on MasterChef Professionals with a palpable kindness and exuberance not often seen in that kitchen. In an environment which is usually awash with furrowed brows and pulsing head veins (believe me, I should know) her warmth and passion for the cuisine of her Jordanian heritage were infectious. Impossible to watch without smiling and championing her on from the sofa, I was desperate to try her food and see if what she put on a plate matched what she oozed on camera – joy, fun, effervescence and a knowledge that can only be gained from years of absorbing the know-how of house-hold kitchens, listening to cooks of the family pass down nuggets of wisdom about ingredients and cooking methods. A promise of food as rich in history as it is in flavour.
Location, location, location
A 17th century coaching in turned modern Middle Eastern restaurant, Queen of Cups is nestled in the heart of Glastonbury. Aptly named as both a nod to the restaurants mystical home, drenched in centuries of spirituality, white magic and bubbling energy from the famous ley lines coupled with the tarot card of the same title symbolosing feminine energy, emotional connection and compassion – all of which make up the ethos and heart of the restaurant.
The weekend we visited also happened to be the Frost Fayre, an annual community event to celebrate ‘peace and goodwill to all’ ahead of the festive period. There was something truly magical about winding through the bitterly cold streets of the town, stopping to take in carollers or grab a glass of mulled wine before taking refuge in shops heady with scents of natural oils and potions, knowing our final destination was Ayesha’s warm bosom (not literally). It was impossible to ignore this weird 21st century parallel we found ourselves in… two slightly wise women, following the star (google maps), the air heavy with scents of Frankincense and Myrrh, ambling towards the inn full of middle eastern promise – it truly was a modern-day Christmas tale.
Fortunately for us, there was room at the inn and as expected, we were welcomed in with open arms, the front of house team, either through osmosis or careful selection, exuding just as much charm as their proprietor. Guided through the restaurant, all feminine purple accents and curated artwork depicting various guises of feminine energy, the space is humble and unassuming.
The food
The menu is based around sharing plates all of which promise to be as gloriously colourful as chef herself. With a plethora of ingredients not often seen on this grey land, her team are on hand to guide you through the menu and answer questions effortlessly and enthusiastically. Plates come as they come resulting in a table bursting with colour and smells, each dish begging to be paired with its neighbour – a swipe of the Frena bread in the watercress labneh here, a dunk of a Lebanese spiced potato in whipped Westcombe ricotta there. It is a truly unique and enjoyable eating experience that further cements the notion of bringing people together over great food.
Small plates to pave the way
We began our meal with nibbles of Teta’s (a colloquial Lebanese term for Grandmother and another nod to the importance of family recipes within this restaurant) pickles and Frena bread – a richer, fluffier cousin of the humble pitta. The pickles as sharp and pleasantly pink as you would hope. Not being the best of friends with gluten and not wanting to waste precious stomach real estate, I had every intention of bypassing the bread but when I saw pillowy cloud after pillowy cloud of it appear on the pass it was impossible to resist. With a good char from the hot coals, a lightness that made it looked like it was floating on its plinth and a sheen of butter glistening down it’s curves, I had to have it, gluten intolerance or not and my lord was it worth the bloat that followed that evening. A plate of Watercress labneh with roasted beetroot doused in pomegranate seeds, za’tar and pangrattato to accompany was a match made in heaven – using the bread to mop up every ounce of the thick, punchy labneh, creating perfect mouthfuls with its adornments like a child rifling through a jewellery box.
Mesmerising main dishes
From here we worked our way through the menu, as each plate landed on the table a gasp followed by an ‘oooh’ and an ‘aaaah’ reminiscent of children at a firework display. Hibachi grilled merguez sausages, the content of which is determined by the season were smokey and spicey, complimented by their bed of cooling yoghurt, the micro herbs and fresh lemon cutting through the richness. Grilled Nabulsi cheese (one of my favourite plates) served by the slab like an elevated saganaki situation, drenched in Persian black lime and honey that pools around it ensuring every bite is layered in flavour and complexity, the cheese covered in a blanket of preserved lemon and fresh oregano to cut through the fatty cheese. A larger plate of red miso and cardamom glazed hispi cabbage with a fiery veduja and butterbean puree, kalamata tapenade and yeasted buckwheat was a party of textures and flavour profiles. The standout dish for me however had to be the seven spiced Jerusalem artichokes with pickled foraged mushrooms, whipped westcombe ricotta, zoug and smoked almonds. A jumble of flavours that could easily get messy but were infact perfectly balanced, piles of deliciousness where every mouthful promises to be different. The zoug so loaded with garlic it smacks you around the face, crispy, spicy artichokes and vinegary mushrooms. A perfect example of east meets west and a demonstration of Ayesha’s championing of local growers and ingredients.
With waistbands straining more and more each second, we were about to throw in the towel when we thought what a waste it would be to leave plates still covered with sauces and goodness and so for thorough mopping a last minute addition of Batata Harra (Lebanese spiced potatoes) were ordered – crispy on the outside soft and fluffy within, we made the right call and with that, the plates returned to the kitchen perfectly polished.
Our one regret was that we had not planned accordingly and so could not make the most of the very exciting dessert menu – dishes such as Tonka and Fig leaf mousseline with hazelnut brittle and Dark chocolate and Persian lime cremeaux called to us but we just couldn’t do it. Instead, we settled on black tahini and black cardamom ice cream with poached cherries, a light finisher to the afternoon and a continuation of bold flavour pairings that really work.
The food we ate was clearly a labour of love – the love could be tasted in every dish. Personality, warmth and emotion as tangible as the ingredients themselves.
Let’s hear it for the chef
Sitting opposite the pass and with full view of the kitchen, it became instantly apparent that Ayesha’s likability transcends the TV screen we had become accustomed to seeing her on. Steering her ship from behind the pass, she can be felt and heard throughout the restaurant, leading her brigade to deliver plate after plate of delectable food with a kindness and encouragement that made we want to jump up and get involved with them. I felt as if (and I mean this with love and respect) I was in the presence of a chef, a matriarch, a land lady and a captain – all booming voice, bountiful personality and bold as brass mannerisms.
The beauty of this establishment harks back to a core belief of mine, yes the bells and whistles of fine dining eateries and fancy pants restaurants are fun and impressive with all their slick lines and brushed steel but what it comes down to is the flavours on the plate and the passion of the chef. Food is about bringing people together, sharing history and culture, educating and inspiring people and Queen of Cups does this in spades.
