Stranger on the Shore

Stranger on the Shore

For so long the power behind one of London’s best gastropubs, Mark Dorber has now swapped Sloane Rangers for lone strangers on the Suffolk coast. So, asks Richard Woodard, just how do you create a thriving business at the end of a B-road to nowhere?

It sounds like the location for a children’s television programme and it’s just about literally on the road to nowhere, but could the isolated Suffolk village of Walberswick become the home of Britain’s finest coastal gastropub? It will if Mark Dorber has his way.

Together with his wife Sophie, who masterminds the food, Dorber has been in residence at The Anchor for four years now, but it’s clearly a perpetual work in progress: when I visit, Dorber is keen to discuss future plans and schemes to show off the many changes he’s made to what was an ailing village pub without much of a future.

If the Dorber name strikes a familiar chord, so it should. This is the man who transformed The White Horse in Parson’s Green – rather unkindly dubbed ‘The Sloaney Pony’ owing to certain members of its clientele – into a bricks-and-mortar embodiment of his love of good wine and cosmopolitan beer. Sophie added the culinary excellence – and later became his wife. It remains one of the country’s best gastropubs.

Tuscany-sur-mer

But let’s get back to Suffolk. The Anchor, as I say, wasn’t necessarily the most promising location for a top-notch gastropub when the Dorbers took over on a 20-year lease in November 2004.

Although the Suffolk coast has become a domestic Tuscany in summer for second-homers and London media types, Walberswick doesn’t quite have the cachet of Southwold or the olde worlde charm of Aldeburgh. And, as Dorber says, the only passing trade are either amphibious or riding on microlites.

Then there were the last two owners. One was declared bankrupt and the other was a passionate devotee of fast food. Neither lasted long. Dorber, however – in the manner of a good estate agent – could ‘see the potential’. He could also appreciate just how wrong his predecessors had got things. ‘The first thing we did was to cut down the 14ft hedge,’ he recalls. ‘We brought the sea view back.’

.‘You have to give people a reason to

come here – the pubs and the

beach are the only points of destination’

He and Sophie took on The Anchor at a rent of £34,000 a year, promising to double its turnover in two years (done) and to treble it in five (not yet). The kitchen was totally revamped and extended, while the interior was repainted in holly green and salmon pink – ‘trying to reflect the colours of the landscape and the beach’.

There’s a terrace for those delightful English summer days – admittedly not much in evidence in the past couple of years – and a separate kitchen to deal with it. There’s a garden and an allotment to provide the kitchen with squashes, courgettes and salad leaves.

Desirable drinks

He and Sophie knew what they wanted to do with the food – ‘fresh, modern, British, robust, not mucked about with’ – and, of course, the wine and beer. The Anchor is a tied pub, but as it’s tied to nearby Adnams that isn’t too much of a problem. Besides Adnams and Meantime on draught, Dorber has an eclectic bottled beer list of 17, taking in everything from Bavarian wheat beer to Brooklyn Lager. And his passion for food matching is displayed through regular suggestions on the menu.

The ‘straight’ wine list of 90 bottles is supplemented with an ‘extra-special’ one of 45-plus, all sourced via Adnams’ en primeur service – ‘things like La Chapelle, very good Burgundies, the Bartons, of course, and some good ports like 1983 Warre’s; also Billecart, Ridge and some good Sauternes’.

All of them are kept in a converted pigsty. ‘Yes, and it’s still a pigsty in terms of organisation,’ he admits cheerfully.

The Dorber mantra with the regular list is ‘characterful producers and distinctive wines’. That translates as, among others, Blanck from Alsace, Espinoza from Chile, a stonkingly good Clos de Caveau Côtes du Rhône at less than £20 and a house white from Plaimont.

‘Nothing gets on the list without pretty serious tasting,’ insists Dorber, ‘and some that might have been certainties haven’t passed the test. I get no kickbacks. I invest my time and energy to make sure that those expected drinks at expected price-points deliver good value for money.’

Food: tick. Wine: tick. Beer: tick. Ambience: tick. And all factors that are broadly the same whether you’re in the heart of the metropolis or a stone’s throw from the beach. But you need more than that if you’re stuck at the dead end of a Suffolk B-road and heavily reliant on seasonal sales. So Dorber has supplemented this mix with an array of special events: Beer Academy courses, an evening with writer-turned-biodynamic winemaker Monty Waldin, ghost story recitals and wine quizzes.

.‘The idea is to appeal to

a broad section, but serve

the local community'

‘The idea is to appeal to a broad section, but serve the local community,’ he explains. ‘We hold charity events every three months at least. There’s a pensioners’ lunch every Tuesday – two courses for £6.95. It’s not inherently profitable, but it fills the place. Quite often we have 60 people coming in for that, from the village and beyond.

‘And we make sure there’s always a table for local people – we never book up all the tables. It should still be a pub where people can drop in if they want to – people still treat it as their village pub, although food will be the attraction for most.’

Dorber doesn’t appear out of place in the Suffolk countryside, but the location clearly has its challenges. He admits that he was viewed with open suspicion by locals at first, leaving Sophie (who has local connections) to win the early diplomatic battles.

But challenges remain. Power outages are a regular occurrence – ‘and if your business doesn’t have telephone lines for five hours because of the tidal surge, you can’t process credit card payments,’ he explains through gritted teeth.

Staff recruitment is another thorny problem. Training colleges are 25 miles away, and for some strange reason the attractions of living in a wind-battered Suffolk outpost in the depths of winter are lost on young folk. There’s also a less tangible attitudinal problem which is clearly a contrast to fast-moving London.

‘For lots of parts of rural England, it’s still a subsistence mentality,’ says Dorber. ‘Just enough to get by on, rather than being driven on by ambition. But sometimes you have to step up your game. If the place is full and the beach is full, I see it as a duty to look after people, but the locals want to knock off.’

Coast with the most

There are stratagems – staff are being put through WSET and Beer Academy courses, partnerships are being explored with overseas catering colleges – and Dorber is considering other incentives to create a settled and balanced team.

After a couple of hours in his company in the packed dining area, one thing is apparent: beneath an apparently laid-back exterior, the Dorber brain is constantly ticking over – whether it’s picking up on and dealing with tiny details about the service, or coming up with yet another idea to pull the punters through the door.

Doesn’t he ever feel over-stretched?

‘I think I should stretch myself a bit more,’ Dorber says with a shake of the head. ‘We have been hampered slightly by the bad weather, but one good summer will help to bring things back. You have to give people a reason to come here – the pubs and the beach are the only points
of destination.

‘The investment should be done by about May 2009, and my overall aim is to make it the most interesting coastal pub in Britain. My personal goal? To put on Vaughan Williams’ Sea Symphony in our back garden – where you can actually see the sea.’ And you certainly couldn’t do that in Parsons Green.

Likes/dislikes

Suffolk water
‘I think this is officially the hardest water in the country. We’ve bought a state-of-the-art softener and demineraliser, plus a glass-washing machine – but we still have to polish all the glasses.’

Fishy frustrations
‘Sourcing good fish is a mess, thanks to overfishing and the quotas. There’s a lot of local fish that isn’t, if you know what I mean, or farmed fish masquerading as wild fish. There’s a need for greater transparency.’

Local beer for local people
‘A recurring theme here is internationalisation – don’t retreat into “local is best”. The reason why British beers haven’t cut it internationally is because we haven’t done what the 19th-century pioneers did and travelled abroad, embracing other techniques.’

The joys of isolation (1)
‘People are more likely to accept advice about food and drink here than in London. There’s more time to think about things and to enjoy them. It may be the same people, but here they’re more relaxed.’

The joys of isolation (2)
‘From the recruitment point of view, it’s quite difficult. It’s harder for young people here, particularly in winter. Unless they’ve got a research project or a lover here, what else is going to keep them?’

Listen with Dorber

Once upon a time...

There were lots of gastropub owners and they found life very hard. The wicked witch Recessionastasia had cursed all their businesses and stopped them making money. But then a dashing prince rode into town and started dispensing magic pearls of wisdom.

Before long all of the businesses were flourishing again, and the people were so happy they toasted the dashing prince with pints of rare Slovakian beer.

Just remember my rules, said the prince, and you’ll never be poor and unhappy again…

Don’t neglect the locals: keep a table or two free for them – however busy you are.
Fill up the diary: find out what events people like and put them on. Keep them informal and
don’t charge silly ticket prices.
Worry about the details: keep your eyes open, treat each customer with every ounce of your attention; get to know the rhythm of the place and the people before you formulate your business plan.

And, during a recession…

A recession should sharpen your commitment to looking after people. Make sure the personal side of the service is the best you can make it, be sure that customers are cared for – even just by putting little bowls of peanuts on the bar – they’re tiny things, but they matter. Take the time to talk to people and find out how they are. All the things you should be doing anyway – but pay even more attention to them. Don’t leave anything to chance.

The end

Editorial feature from Imbibe Magazine - January / February 2009