The Quiet Paths

We managed to escape the chaos of the kitchen this weekend, thanks to a pre-planned getaway to the Lake District to celebrate Mark’s birthday.

For once, we were without our four-legged companion, as Pepper checked into “Hotel Nanna” on Saturday morning, blissfully unaware of what she was missing.

With the car packed and a sense of quiet anticipation, we made our way up the M6 to Ambleside — that familiar Lakeland town where the air feels just a little fresher and the pace immediately softens. Set at the northern tip of Windermere, Ambleside carries that easy charm of slate cottages, winding streets, and walkers drifting between cafés and fells. Even on a busy weekend, there’s something grounding about it — the steady presence of the water, the surrounding hills, and the sense that everything can wait a while.

After checking into the Waterhead Suites, we wandered into town, taking our time, dipping in and out of a few welcoming hostelries and sampling a couple of well-earned beers. Nothing hurried, nothing planned — just the simple pleasure of being somewhere different.

The highlight of the weekend, though, was always going to be dinner at Lake Road Kitchen. Tucked away in the heart of Ambleside, it’s one of those places that feels understated from the outside, but quietly exceptional once you’re in. The focus is firmly on seasonal, locally sourced ingredients, presented with creativity but without pretension.

We opted for the ten-course tasting menu, paired with the matched wine flight, and spent the next few hours working our way through a series of beautifully balanced dishes — each one thoughtful, precise, and just a little surprising.

One of the standout moments was the now well-known LRK fried chicken — crisp, flavourful, and completely moreish. A dish that somehow manages to be both playful and refined at the same time.

By the end of the evening, we were happily full and more than a little unsteady, making our way back along the quiet road to the hotel. The original plan had involved a nightcap — a bottle of champagne on the balcony, overlooking the lake — but reality had other ideas. I am, it turns out, not the most robust of drinkers, and bed called almost immediately. Asleep by 9:30pm… like true rockstars.

The following morning brought an unfamiliar luxury: silence. No insistent paws, no early-morning demands for a walk. We slept late, properly rested, and eased into the day before checking out and wandering back into town. Breakfast came in the form of excellent sausage rolls — the kind that feel entirely justified after the night before.

A small gallery caught my eye as we strolled, and inside I found the perfect piece for the soon-to-be-finished kitchen at home. One came back with us, while its matching counterpart is patiently waiting until the work is complete — something to look forward to, another piece of the puzzle falling into place.

On the way home, we collected a delighted Pepper, who greeted us with all the enthusiasm of a dog who had clearly had a weekend of her own. Judging by her immediate collapse into bed, it had been an exciting one — windowsill patrols and neighbourhood surveillance taking their toll.

And as we settled back into the half-finished house, tools and dust exactly where we’d left them, it struck me how important these small pauses are. Just a night away, a change of scene, good food, and a slower pace — enough to reset, to breathe, and to come back with a little more patience for the chaos of everyday life.

Sometimes, that’s all you really need.