St. John is a small hotel with neat, compact rooms. The word "glitzy" could never ever be applied to this place. Understated and plain, the 60-seat restaurant resembles an old-fashioned dining hall, with its white Marc Jacobs Hobo Hillier walls, dark wood furniture, coat hooks and simple hanging lights. There's an open kitchen at the back where cooks work in navy blue striped aprons (the same fabric that Henderson had made into a three-piece suit for himself).
I met up with friends and, though we were six, decided to order a shoulder of suckling pig for four. No worries, this baby could have fed 10. Really. That was after appetizers — stunning plump, juicy snails cooked with thick rashers of bacon, a simple watercress salad, and gentle lamb sweetbreads with bright green fava beans and quartered artichokes.
But that pig! It was a Gloucester Old Spot (the same breed Mozza chef Chad Colby served at a recent family-style pig fest), and the flavor was incredible, the skin crackling, the flesh moist and marbled with sweet pork fat. It came with earthy roasted potatoes. We polished off the meal with an apple shortcake tart with a beguiling bay leaf ice cream.
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