After enjoying a delicious meal MARION SAUVEBOIS finds her plans for a lifetime of celebrations at Coles are nipped in the bud

“COLES? Oh yes I live just down the road,” my colleague interrupted the feverish inventory of every morsel, crumb and forkful I had scoffed the previous evening at the Marlborough eatery. “You realise it’s closing in October, don’t you?”

Et tu, Brute?

On cue, a distressed wail (more like a choked grumble really) erupted - whether from my distraught insides or my quivering gullet is still unclear. You mean no more key lime pie? No more passion-fruit drizzled coconut ice cream? Why God, why?

A tad dramatic perhaps but food is a very serious business in our household. And I had plans, so many plans, birthday plans, anniversary plans, any excuse to curl up on Coles’s window seat or guzzle away by the snug fireplace, 1950s pin-ups and thesps gaping down at me from the rows of sepia photographs blanketing the walls. Just like that, foolish dreams nipped in the bud and a lifetime of celebrations marred by the faint memory of our one meal at Coles.

The evening had started rather unsurprisingly with me hurtling down the road and missing Coles entirely. The car parked safely in the town centre, we hiked back up Kingsbury Hill to our destination. Huffing and puffing like we’d run a marathon after our very brief trek, we were ready for a sit-down and a drink. Clearly used to the sorry sight of woefully unfit diners, the owner – a humanitarian if I ever saw one - was on us like a flash, offering restorative tipples before even showing us our table.

Recuperating with a glass of Prosecco and pint by the bay window, snuggled up on a sea of plush cushions, we were handed a pair of menus each: the seasonal offering and the specials list (as long, if not longer than the first). Coles didn’t do things by halves. This first impression was compounded shortly after when we were uprooted from our cosy little corner and shown to our ‘real’ table’ in the dining room - an airy and bright extension, strewn with signed black-and white pictures, broody landscapes, foxed mirrors and a hail of quirky knick-knacks.

Soon our starter had arrived: the seafood plate (£10.50) piled high with confit sea trout Caesar salad swaddled in a crisp ramekin-shaped tuile, a copious mound of pickled herring, and side of crevettes in dill caper mayonnaise.

Technically not a sharing platter, it was bountiful enough for two, even two gluttons like us. Coles certainly didn’t skimp on size. The hefty mains loaded on our waitress’s deceptively dainty arms were testament to that.

While my partner’s three enormous cuts of pink roast new season lamb (£18.75) could have fed an army, my pan-fried monkfish tail (£18) on a thick crispy bed of potato rosti tested what I like to think of as my seasoned Olympic-grade stomach.

Tender to perfection, it was a delight. I devoured the dish down to the last shaving of fennel and juicy orange slice (a peculiar flavour combination in theory, but surprisingly moreish in practice). Loath to waste a bite, I powered through ignoring the tell-tale signs of looming indigestion.

We swore off another bite for as long as it took the waitress to clear our plates and push dessert menus into our eager hands. We dithered over whether to be sensible and split a pudding before thinking better of the whole scheme and ordering one each. We had barely caught our breaths – my partner actually started to go a little pale- when the largest slices of key lime pie (£5.75) known to man landed in front of us Each was topped with a full-sized meringue resting on a thick dollop of whipped cream and served with a scoop of passionfruit ice cream (on more cream) so big it was a sundae in its own right. Polishing it off was a real victory of mind over matter, but it had to be done.

And then one cafetiere, uncomfortable drive home and key-lime pie filled reveries later, the calamitous news dropped. No more Coles – as of October anyway.

There are whispers the owners are auctioning off every last curio - down to the grainy snapshots of long-gone rep actors and tennis champs. So if you’re after a keepsake to light candles at, burn incense and the like or reminisce over your last supper at Coles get in there and quick. Or you could just roll a year’s worth of birthdays, anniversaries, Mother’s day, Diwali, Christmas, Easter, divorce parties and dog baptisms (a real thing apparently) into eight weeks and bivouac until the movers turn you out.

It was a brief dalliance, Coles, but it was grand while it lasted. Farewell.

Coles

27 Kingsbury Hill, Marlborough SN8 1JA

01672 515004

colesrestaurant.co.uk

Disabled access: no

parking: no

Adver ratings:

Food: 9/10

Choice: 9/10

Décor: 8.5/10

Customer service: 8.5/10

Main course prices: from £14.50 to £25

TripAdvisor rating: 4.5/5

Coles

27 Kingsbury Hill, Marlborough SN8 1JA

01672 515004

colesrestaurant.co.uk

Disabled access: no

Parking: no

Adver ratings:

Food: 9/10

Choice: 9/10

Décor: 8.5/10

Customer service: 8.5/10

Main course prices: from £14.50 to £25

TripAdvisor rating: 4.5/5