The Merchant's Yard, Tideswell: Truffle Fries & Mysteries - Restaurant Review

The Merchant's Yard, St John's Road, Tideswell, Buxton SK17 8NY. Lunch mains £12-£21, starters £9-£12.

Some lunches are planned weeks in advance. Others happen because you've spent the morning choosing bathroom fittings and suddenly realise you're starving.

That was how we found ourselves at The Merchant's Yard in Tideswell on a Wednesday afternoon, having just emerged from the Markovitz showroom across the courtyard after a lengthy discussion about taps, sinks and things I had assumed were all just shades of white. I'm looking forward to the new bathroom, I am - but my husband was clearly way more into the itty bitty details than me. I just nodded and stifled a yawn.

Anyway!

It was exactly midday when we pushed open the restaurant door.

For a moment, nothing happened.

A gentleman sitting on a sofa near the bar glanced up briefly from whatever he was doing. We stood in the entrance wondering whether we were supposed to seat ourselves, announce our arrival or simply continue standing there until somebody claimed us. Given that we had arrived at the precise nano-second the restaurant opened, there was a real chance we were the first customers of the day.

Eventually a member of staff appeared and showed us through to a lovely round wooden table beside one of the large windows overlooking the courtyard.

From here, we could watch the comings and goings outside while sinking into enormous, very comfortable green velvet chairs. I might have sighed. The room strikes a pleasing balance between smart and relaxed. Exposed brickwork, timber floors and shelves filled with memorabilia tell the story of the building's past, while the atmosphere remains comfortably unpretentious.

The building itself has quite a story to tell.

Long before becoming one of the Peak District's most highly regarded restaurants with rooms, these premises formed part of the original Markovitz builders' merchants business. In 1935, Maurice Markovitz purchased the building for £1,200, expanding his bicycle repair business into hardware and building supplies. Over the decades that followed, the company grew into a national operation with depots across the country. The restaurant's name is a respectful nod to those roots and reminders of that history appear throughout the building.

The welcome itself was reserved rather than warm.

Our host possessed that particular Derbyshire quality of being neither rude nor especially welcoming, simply direct. Water arrived promptly. A beautifully chilled glass of Chenin Blanc followed shortly afterwards for me, along with a bottle of Zero Five Pale Ale for my husband.

"What do you want to eat?" he asked, a bit gruffly. A sneaked a look at my husband and we exchanged smiles after he had left.

There was something almost admirable about the lack of ceremony.

No scripts. No discussion about whether we'd had a nice morning. No attempt to become our new best friend.

Just a straightforward invitation to get on with lunch. Fair enough.

Some diners might have preferred a little more warmth. Others would probably appreciate the absence of fuss. Having lived in Derbyshire for a number of years, we're fairly accustomed to a certain type of traditional local gentleman whose friendliness tends to reveal itself slowly rather than immediately. By the end of lunch, I still wasn't entirely sure which category our host fell into, although he did seem to thaw slightly when we chatted later about the restaurant's reputation and our plans to return.

As we settled in, the restaurant gradually began to wake up around us.

A group of gentlemen in gorgeous three-piece suits gathered on the courtyard outside. They looked far too formally dressed for a casual Wednesday lunchtime drink and far too bright for a funeral, although not cheerful enough to rule one out completely. My husband and I spent several minutes trying to determine whether they were attending a wedding, a wake or some previously unknown Peak District occasion requiring exceptionally colourful tailoring.

We never found out.

The mystery deepened when we noticed an office towards the rear of the restaurant. Throughout lunch, various people disappeared into it carrying folders, some passed by with cameras hung around their necks. It may have belonged to the Markovitz Group. It may have been a meeting room. It may have been the Peak District's least secret spy headquarters.

Like the gentlemen in suits, it remains one of life's unanswered questions.

Before our mains arrived, we shared a bread basket while leafing through the evening menu.

The bread itself was warm, fresh and easy to keep eating.

The butter, however, had clearly spent a little too long in the fridge.

It tasted excellent once conquered, but initially possessed enough structural integrity to put up a decent fight. At one point, I became convinced an enthusiastic attempt at spreading it might send it shooting entirely off the plate and onto a neighbouring table.

For mains, I ordered the Spicy Pakora Burger while my husband opted for The Merchant's Yard Grass-Fed Beef Burger.

Both arrived accompanied by truffle fries which announced themselves seconds before they appeared.

You could smell them coming, which we all know is is generally a very good sign!

The fries were perfection: crisp, piping hot and generously sprinkled with truffle. You could see the flakes.

My pakora burger was never going to win any beauty contests. Pakora, aubergine, mango chutney and salad inevitably combine into something that looks slightly chaotic and rather brown. Fortunately, appearances mattered considerably less once I started eating. The pakora itself had a satisfying crunch, the mango chutney added welcome sweetness and it was nice to find a vegetarian and gluten-free option that felt well thought out and constructed rather than included simply to tick the veggie and GF box.

Across the table, the beef burger received similarly enthusiastic approval. The smoked cheddar and caramelised onion chutney gave it plenty of richness without overwhelming the quality of the beef itself. I also benefited from my husband's immediate decision that the pickles had no place whatsoever in his lunch and should therefore be transferred to mine (he despises pickles, I would hoover them up for breakfast, lunch and tea).

Reader, I was perfectly happy with this arrangement.

At £19 each, both burgers sit towards the upper end of what many people would expect to pay for lunch. Fortunately, we had unknowingly timed our visit rather well.

The Merchant's Yard is currently running a two-can-dine offer, allowing diners to choose two dishes from a selected menu for £25.

By the time we'd finished eating and drinking, our bill came to just £38.

In a world where two sandwiches and coffees can sometimes leave you questioning your financial decisions, that felt reasonable.

As we browsed the evening menu afterwards, it became increasingly clear why The Merchant's Yard enjoys such a strong reputation. Hand-dived scallops with wild asparagus. Duck breast with thyme-infused jus. Cornish cod with crab tortellini. British heritage beef from the grill. Cocktails, pizzas and desserts that sounded considerably more ambitious than our lunchtime burger choices.

It all suggested there was much more to discover here.

Perhaps that was my overriding impression of The Merchant's Yard.

Not that the food was good, though it was. Not that the setting is attractive, though it certainly is. Rather, that we'd only seen one side of the place.

At midday on a Wednesday, the dining room felt calm and reflective. You could easily imagine it becoming something entirely different on a busy Friday evening, with every table occupied, cocktails flowing and conversation bouncing off the brick walls.

We arrived looking for a quick lunch after choosing bathroom fittings.

We left discussing which evening dishes we'd order next time.

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Image Credits: Jennifer Bell and The Merchant's Yard