At The Chapel
SOMERSET, ENGLAND
Bruton in Somerset has fast become a hotel hotspot, and it’s not hard to see why. The arts community have claimed the village for their own, with design shops and art galleries lining cobbled streets, and with never-ending greenery and a do-able journey time from London, a weekend escape to this corner of the country is easily done.
Arriving in Bruton with a sizeable ‘to-see’ list (this village has a lot of loyal fans), we checked into At The Chapel. Grade II listed, the former 17th-century chapel turned hotel sits pretty in the middle of the small but perfectly formed highstreet. From the outside, the double height arch windows and heavy oak doors have stood the test of time, but the small lantern and gentle hum of activity hints at something more than a church hiding inside. You’ll find a queue of muddy wellies waiting to be worn on the other side of the door, a small bakery lined with freshly baked bread and the entrance to the restaurant. It’s here that you check in (there’s no fuss or routine with this hotel) and we collected our room key from a lovely lady sat in The Winestore, another string to the hotel’s bow. Carefully curated, this little nook in the chapel houses a delicious list of small estate wines that also appear on the restaurant wine list, so there’s a good chance you’ll find space in your weekend bag for a new favourite bottle (or three).
On your way out for a stroll around the village, the smell of warm bread from the chapel’s bakery follows you - it dances along the cobbles, down the hill and floats above the rooftops, teasing neighbours and eventually shooing you back for a cup of tea and a thick slice of cake.
There are eight bedrooms hidden in the chapel, and each one holds a different charm, making it even easier to justify a return visit. Rooms are contemporary and flooded with natural light, with muted colours, marble-wrapped bathrooms, Egyptian cotton sheets and fluffy bathrobes. We stayed in room eight, tucked away on the lower ground-floor for privacy and decorated with a deep freestanding bath and our very own garden terrace, something which will always feel extremely grown up and fancy to me. Honouring the namesake, it’s peaceful in the chapel, and nothing moves too fast or too loudly.
With the terrace doors open, the local church bells chimed and reminded us it was almost dinner time, and after a climbing a grand total of 12 steps, we had found our table in the restaurant. The menu is relaxed and packed full of West Country produce, with fresh pizzas straight from the wood-fired oven and the team there are friendly, young and patient. I can’t remember how many bowls of bread and fresh butter we got through (this is our Achilles heel in any restaurant) but when we sat down we spotted pink-hued skies from the chapel windows and when we finally left the table, the candlesticks were a puddle of wax and we were two bottles of wine down. Signs of a very successful dinner.
Sleepy Sunday mornings are just as dreamy in the chapel, with long soaks in the tub whilst squidgy, warm croissants are hung in a bag outside the bedroom door for your first breakfast. One cafetière later and you can mosey on up to the restaurant for bacon sandwiches and even more coffee, whilst picking over the spread of newspapers and magazines. On your way out for a stroll around the village, the smell of warm bread from the chapel’s bakery follows you - it dances along the cobbles, down the hill and floats above the rooftops, teasing neighbours and eventually shooing you back for a cup of tea and a thick slice of cake. It’s obvious that the bakery is the heart of the local community, with queues out the door for freshly baked loaves and bags of scones - we toyed with the idea of taking home pastries for the next morning but it was fast agreed that we weren’t to be trusted on the drive home.
As we reluctantly handed over our room key, we checked out feeling lighter, well rested and a bit smug, having filled our weekend with fresh country air and croissants in bed. Vowing to return for more wine and candlelit suppers, we began the short drive home to London. Bruton, we’ll be back.
At The Chapel, from £125 a night.
