It’s hard enough for new restaurants to win over customers and become future regulars – especially when small business enthusiast Rachel Reeves says the UK doesn’t need any new restaurants – but arguably it’s even harder to maintain consistent standards over many years. On a recent sojourn in Cambridge there was that allure of the nouveau, and this city certainly has more choice in the mid-range and upper end of the market than a few years ago, but it had been a few years since last dining at Midsummer House, and eight or so since Palate last formally reviewed it, so it felt ripe for a revisit.
The look and feel at Midsummer House may not have changed much since the 2000s, with those twice-ironed tablecloths still present and correct, but Daniel Clifford remains a chef’s chef, having earned respect in the industry, and indeed the restaurant has (as at 2026) held two Michelin stars consecutively for 22 years.
This time, arriving slightly early on a clement day, there was a golden opportunity to enjoy aperitifs outdoors, though this came with a small note of caution that they can’t make cocktails. Having walked across Midsummer Common, successfully negotiating cyclists en route to exams, I was gasping for a Cambridge gin martini (as they do at nearby Restaurant Twenty-Two) but then it’s churlish to complain when ensconced in an extremely civilised champagne garden for crying out loud, and when they accompany fizz with the largest olives on the planet. I actually appreciate a restaurant’s honesty when they say they’d rather focus their energy on wine rather than serve a lacklustre martini (and believe me, many Michelin-starred restaurants cock up cocktails but I’ll spare their blushes).
Midsummer House still has that magic
Then into the quiet conservatory and a tasting menu which required clearing the diary for the whole afternoon (and at £170 for the “Corpus” menu or £280 for the “Solstice” menu you want to get your money’s worth, but we’ll come back to that point).
Consistent with previous visits there were bonuses before the meal proper even began, such as the mini loaf of rye sourdough made from their own starter (based on apples grown on site) and butter with a little truffle stencilled on (fortunately not overpowering).
The array of amuse bouches seemed more generous than before, though were evenly split between memorable and forgettable morsels. On the memorable side, the mini French onion soup with Montgomery cheddar and laced with Minus 8 beer vinegar didn’t take any prisoners. The server advised that it’s best to neck it in one swoop, and it was an appropriate size to do so, but it was so delicious I would’ve preferred to savour it (and have more of it) than down it like a shot of Sambuca on a student night out. Also on the memorable side, a chalk stream trout tartlet flavoured with lapsang souchong and shiso, and a quirky duck liver flapjack which was intriguingly combined with dark chocolate, raspberry and port – marrying these flavours, especially at the start, would raise a few eyebrows but this was similarly delicious. (There were others but a punchily-priced Pauillac has dulled my memory of those.)
Smoked butternut squash sorbet
Fillet of Hereford beef
Amuse bouches
Then onto the meal proper and the only bump in the road (though by no means a fatal one): a piping hot mangalitsa consommé was poured over a smoked butternut squash sorbet and grated Manchego. While the flavours worked harmoniously, and the gourmet piggy consommé was pleasingly clear, the effect of adding something hot to something frozen, resulting in the cheese clagging together and a lukewarm broth, just seemed strange to me. Maybe I completely misunderstood the intention here and it at least sang with umami. The wasp-like tuile on top added a further visual point of difference I suppose, but was mostly there for Instagram I suspect.
After that slight bewilderment, things very quickly got back on track, and indeed impressed, starting with the Loch Duart salmon with white chocolate, cauliflower, smoked roe and finger lime. This wasn’t just another interesting use of chocolate in a savoury dish (and with fish, no less!) but another masterclass in technique – each element superbly executed and having a part to play, despite sounding odd on paper.
Next up, an absolutely stellar fillet of Hereford beef with a Bordelaise jus for the ages, a mini cottage pie of braised cheek topped with a Robuchon-style pomme purée, a spinach and blue cheese gratin dauphinois, horseradish and smoked Ratte potatoes. I just didn’t want this to end. Unashamedly old-fashioned in many ways, and really just traditional English beef and two veg through a French lens, but utterly sensational. Neither I nor my GP want to know how much butter was in that dish but it’s certainly the best beef course I’ve had this year so far.
To segue into desserts (alas, avoiding the optional extra cheese course as I don’t have four stomachs), a pousse café in the same shot glass used for the mini French onion soup at the outset of the meal, and then a coconut parfait. Like a recurring minor character in a sitcom, chocolate made yet another appearance here, this time as a mock coconut shell to house the parfait, lime and green chilli (reminding me somewhat of the edible brandy snap baskets of yore). While I admired the technical skill again, it just didn’t quite impress in the same way; the zenith was certainly that unbeatable beef dish.
And to round it all off, petits fours and the Daniel Clifford staple of fluffy, sugar-dusted bottereaux (Loire beignets) which have closed every meal here so far. On this occasion the man himself wasn’t on the pass, but it’s clear as that mangalitsa consommé that the staff can cope in his absence, all of whom were pleasant, courteous and professional.
Then the damage report: not quite as vertiginous as The Waterside Inn is these days but clearly a £300 lunch (admittedly with a fair bit of vino) is only going to be for a special treat. There are aspects where value felt on the exorbitant side, such as £9 for a shot of espresso, though I’m giving the benefit of the doubt for the double-charging of water – I’m fairly sure that was accidental and it was quickly corrected. That said, one has to factor in the quality of the produce, skill and generosity of the in-between courses (and a free cake to take home). No doubt, there are cost pressures on us all: for guests, the never-ending whiplash of energy bills going up and down and the spectre of the AI job apocalypse; for restaurants, a government unwilling to cut VAT for hospitality, costs making it a struggle just to break even and unsympathetic landlords (and with news of Michelin-starred Simpsons in Birmingham closing just before this review goes to press, nowhere is immune). Unless we accept shrinkflation or dilution of standards, there’s no easy answer for restaurants at this level and expense is inevitable.
The main thing is Midsummer House still has that magic and overall it’s worth it if you get the chance to go. I daresay this was the best meal here yet.
Midsummer Common
Cambridge
CB4 1HA
June 2026
