Inside the 13th-century property in the Lake District named as England’s ‘best small hotel’ for 2023. The Mail checked in to see if it lived up to the hype…

They say fairytales are make-believe.

Grade I-listed Askham Hall hotel in the Lake District will leave you doubting this – it’s like a fantasy-fable house made real, with grand yet homely interiors, a kitchen garden straight from Middle-earth’s Shire and staff with welcomes warm enough for any Disney prince or princess.

I was there with my partner and young daughter following the hotel’s crowning as VisitEngland Small Hotel of the Year 2023.

Did it live up to the hype?

We fell in love with the jewel of a property a few steps beyond the entrance lobby, where awards for the 19-bedroom hotel and its Michelin-starred restaurant, Allium, form a guard of honour.

We were warmly welcomed in the magnificent hallway and given a quick guided tour of the three majestic ground-floor guest lounges. Each room was regally lavish, big enough to house a small zoo – and I sensed that every nook and cranny had a story to tell.

This is a property that oozes history.

It lies above the river Lowther in the Eamont valley in the quaint village of Askham, a short drive from Ullswater and Penrith, five miles away.

It dates to around 1280. At this time, it was a peel tower, a fortified crenellated building that provided refuge from invasions by Picts and Scots, the hotel reveals.

Cumbria was volatile during these years.

In 1375, it was bought by the Sandford family, with Thomas Sandford turning it into an Elizabethan mansion in the 16th century with the addition of various wings.

In 1815, it was sold to William Lowther, 1st Earl of Lonsdale, and it has remained in the Lowther family ever since.

They lived in it from the 1930s until 2012, when it became a boutique hotel.

Prince Philip stayed at the house every year for 30 years, attending the annual Lowther Show week, sometimes with his wife in tow.

The Duke’s regular room was the Admiral’s Room.

We were in the Train Room, so named because the Lowther family kept their model railway in it.

It must have been some railway. We could almost fit our entire south London flat inside it.

The cavernous space was smothered in timber and comforting Burgundy-red hues and featured a thickly pillared super-king four-poster bed, a wood-burning stove, and a mezzanine with two single beds.

The bathroom was relatively small with nice farmhouse tiling, but I was surprised to see a cheap shower unit  installed. As Cecile Bell, the interior designer who oversaw my bathroom upgrade, said: ‘Spend big on the tiles, taps and shower unit. Those are the things that will spoil the look if they’re cheap.’

And she was right.

I’m not sure Cecile would approve of the slightly harsh faux-chandelier lighting, either.

We were back on track with the view, though, which was lovely. Essentially, you gaze through mullioned windows upon the menu for the Michelin-starred restaurant Allium, which prepares dishes using ingredients from the kitchen gardens and surrounding fields.

We ate there on night two – and it was utterly wonderful.

Proceedings began in one of the beautiful drawing rooms, where there’s an impressively stocked honesty bar, bookshelves lined with ancient tomes, epic oil paintings, dramatic exposed stonework and richly upholstered armchairs, arranged around a wood-burning stove.

As we gazed into the flames, gin and tonics in hand, enveloped in contentment, Frenchman Nico Chieze, the affable ‘Maitre de Maison’, arrived with delectable pre-dinner nibbles from head chef Richard Swale – one comprised mackerel tartar, cauliflower puree, dashi jelly and nori seaweed; the other was a delectable Montgomery cheese gougeres, with ‘mushroom ketchup’.

Nico also deployed the wine list, so enormous that at first I thought it was a book of spells. Or perhaps the Magna Carta.

The hefty tome – beautifully bound by master bookbinder Glenn Malkin, the introduction reveals – lists the restaurant’s sensational varietals, with the cellar stocking between 10,000 and 15,000 bottles, from a wine from 1893 to a £32,000 Vosne-Romanée Premier Cru by producer Henri Jayer.

There are plenty of enticing modest options, but feeling slightly daunted by the sheer length of the list, we opted for the £95 wine pairing.

Gin and tonics dispatched, we were warmly greeted for our tasting menu odyssey in the delightfully boutique-y dining room on the other side of the building, which overlooks a finely sculpted garden.

The kitchen is in the corner in a room within the room, encased by a thick stone wall, with mullion windows providing diners with a tantalising glimpse of Richard and his team rustling up what proves to be a culinary tour de force, with salute-worthy wines matched to perfection.

Food highlights included ravishing roasted Isle of Man scallops (with a heavenly smoked cod roe sauce); shorthorn beef tartare with truffled egg yolk; North Sea cod with a peppers emulsion and a mixed herb and anchovy sauce; and Whinfell partridge with a truffle sauce so tasty it was almost overwhelming – I had to put my fork down and try to process what my taste buds were experiencing.

There was no dip in standards for desserts.

A quince, fermented honey and creme fraiche creation presented with dinky little edible flowers on a honey tuile, however, perhaps had the edge, marginally, over the denouement – Richard’s sticky pudding tart with fig leaf cream.

Each course, meanwhile, was delivered with a soupcon of panache by waiting staff who clearly believe in the Askham mission, which I’m guessing is to send every guest home with a burning desire to come back at the earliest possible opportunity.

The sommelier was on board with this, too. She was very knowledgeable and confident, deftly answering questions and obviously proud of the pairing list.

Two of the reds, a French and an Italian, fell categorically into the knockout category – a rustic 2018 Domaine Marcel Lapierre Morgon and a beautifully fruity 2010 Lungarotti Rubesco Vigna Monticchio.

We also adored the Maury 1928 Solera from Roussillon in France. This sweet wine is made from old Grenache bush vines and was aptly described by the sommelier as ‘Christmas pudding in a glass’.

By the end of the meal the dining room was buzzing with banter, every table enjoying the offerings from this thoroughbred restaurant.

Any criticisms? Perhaps there was a longer wait between some courses than you might expect at a Michelin-star restaurant. But nothing beyond quibble territory.

When we weren’t swanning around Askham Hall pretending to be members of the nobility, we were exploring Askham village, which is awash with delightful Grade II-listed houses; roaming nearby Lowther Castle, a striking semi-ruin a 20-minute walk from Askham Hall with a jaw-dropping adventure playground (we spent hours there) – and ambling along the shoreline of eight-mile-long Ullswater as clouds embraced clusters of peaks in the distance.

It all felt so fantastical. And just for a weekend, we got to pretend we were living happily ever after there – and in some style.