Fine food in St Ives

Paddington to St Ives, picturesque England, patchwork fields dotted with sheep and dappled with cows – a perfect setting for drifting off and fantasising about the new fine food restaurants opening up across the country. Chefs have been departing the big smoke, packing up for pastures new and taking their culinary delights to rural and seaside punters. Leaning back and nibbling on the corners of my card-board sandwich I salivated at the thought of scallops, sea bass, muscles and mullet looking forward to the food St Ives had to offer.

Stepping off a stuffy train and breathing in the sea air I hungrily wandered through St Ives’s snaking streets listening to the seagulls squawking above. I emerged at the town’s little harbour littered with small fishing boats – reds, blues, yellows and whites quietly bobbing in the water, a pretty setting for a tasty bite. I had already looked into the restaurants here and narrowed it down to three.


Alba, winner of AA’s England Seaford Restaurant of the Year, a funky glass fronted restaurant sitting on the corner of the main street overlooking the harbour. The Seafood Café, a reputed restaurant tucked away in the maze of cobbled streets. Portminster Café, a hip little place sitting above one of St Ives’s four beaches.

First stop, Alba, for its harbour views and award winning food. Closed! Next the Seafood Café - closed! To my horror nothing appeared open until later that day. Was I to resort to pasties, pies and pizzas? Fish n chips? Mr Whippy?! No! I decided to be patient and settle upon coffee and cake until later, so wandered back through the streets lined with galleries, boutiques, surf shops, gift shops, tourist tack, cafes and restaurants. I failed miserably to get anyone to serve me; even those cafes appearing open were apparently closed. Eventually I came across the trendy Hub Café and happily settled into a curved white balcony chair, looking through the railings at the harbour hubbub below and listening to the echoes of kids’ voices as they played cricket in the low tide sand. My coffee arrived, strangely looking like an indulgent hot chocolate piled with mini marshmallows on a mound of squirty cream. Wrong order! Not to be deterred, my latte eventually arrived I sat back and relaxed and only then did I notice the cigarette butts stuffed into the table’s pretty flower display. St Ives was starting to lose its charm.

Disillusioned but not defeated I headed to the quiet and tranquil Portminster Beach, the sea gently lapping its shore leaving white salt lines on the beach. A perfect setting for dinner at the excellent Portminster Café which has been successfully running for 16 years boasting the town’s best seafood and greatest location. Sadly this was not to be my day. The Café was closed for a private party that night to celebrate how busy it has been during the season. All I could do was pine as I looked at the scrumptious menu: Grilled Local Scallops, Crab Linguine, Warm Japanese Beef Salad, Double Chocolate Tart, and local cheeses, to name a few.

By now defeated and disorientated I slumped back to the town to sulk beside the harbour walls. My luck was finally in as I was invited to join Cornish Pete and Jordy. Yes, the town drunks had taken pity on me and asked me to chat with them. I enjoyed their tales of lands afar, merchant navy life, and their lives in St Ives, but my hunger still prevailed. I bade farewell to my newfound chums and trotted off for a solitary pint in the Slooth, the harbour side pub. As I sipped my beer, contemplated my pasty, and bathed in the light of the evening sun I reflected on my day and decided that perhaps I should have left behind my expectations of fancy restaurants and fine food and come to Cornwall for what it is.