The search for the perfect carrot led me to one of Wiltshire’s loveliest new hotels

Blood, sweat and tears — quite literally —have been poured into my vegetable garden this year, but to no avail. The dry weather has been a disaster and a few furry friends holing up in my raised beds have caused havoc below surface level.

When the hosepipe ban was announced, the prospect of lugging endless watering cans around led to instant surrender. I’ve shrugged off the beetroots, the dwarf beans, the parsnips and countless other failures, but the things that have really upset me are the carrots.

I am normally an expert carrot grower and was hoping during August, when mine tend to be at their best, to emulate a particularly fine carrot dish I had enjoyed a few weeks earlier.

It was one of those hot, balmy July days that is, in the face of our climate crisis, somewhat unfashionable to applaud (although, shamelessly, I have relished every single one) and I found myself, dog in tow, in the tiny, picture-perfect village of Teffont Evias in Wiltshire’s Nadder Valley.

The task in hand was to visit the Teffont House hotel, newly emerged from a major refurbishment and a change of name. Some may remember it as Howard’s House in days gone by.

That clever old Beckford Group, comprised of Dan Brod, Charlie Luxton and Matt Greenlees, is behind Teffont House, bucking the trend of doom and gloom in the hospitality industry by opening not only this property in the past couple of months, but also Corsham House, a wine-led townhouse restaurant with rooms in Corsham in Wiltshire. Its tally of establishments, which includes the much-loved Beckford Arms in Fonthill Gifford, Wiltshire, and The Talbot Inn in Mells, Somerset, is up to nine.

The secret of its success comes down to a few key factors, plus one defining one. In the context of Teffont House, we have the group’s signature lack of pretension, the highly desirable location, the deep understanding of what makes a hotel characterful and comfortable, the appreciation of fresh food, the respect for guests’ wallets in not wanting to rip them off and the total disregard for any Booking.com nonsense or fancy marketing partnerships. The defining factor is the full-throttle Englishness of every pub or hotel or restaurant to which it turns its hands.

The dog likes our dog-friendly room, but, on that hot afternoon, she likes the narrow chalkstream that ripples through the village more. She likes the hotel’s large garden, too. We all do, spread out on parched grass in the shade of a liquidambar tree, cool drinks in hand, wondering how starry the night sky will look when the Cranborne Chase Dark Sky Reserve comes into its own.

Luckily, there are three telescopes and a star chart provided for that, just as there are easels, watercolour sets, pens and paper available for those of an artistic bent. Some guests, quite sensibly, have checked in for a few days.

Now, what of the carrots? I had already spotted them on the menu when I joined some friends on the terrace as they were finishing lunch. One of these friends, who knows a thing or two about restaurants, was full of praise for what he had eaten and was already looking forward to dinner.

Accordingly, we walked awhile along blowsy, heat-baked footpaths — this is marvellous countryside for walking — to work up an appetite for herb-crusted rack of lamb later. On the side of this came Paget’s carrots, whole, tender and delicious, a little bit sweet and a little bit nutty, helped on their way by a dash of elderflower and a sprinkling of roasted hazelnuts.

I have yet to discover who Paget is, but he certainly knows how to grow a good carrot — and the chefs at Teffont House certainly know how to cook them.

This feature originally appeared in the September 2, 2026, issue of Country Life. Click here for more information on how to subscribe