In search of supper in the New Forest

I had arrived just in time to prepare myself for the afternoon's scavenging with a late lunch in the Greenhouse restaurant, a restored Victorian glasshouse where young vines grow around the window frames and old wooden crates are piled with pots of herbs. I tried the home-smoked salmon with an apple and beetroot salad, and, from the 'literally picked this morning' section of the menu, a zingy grilled courgette salad with lemon and pine nuts, all served with warm, freshly baked bread.

Garry arrived to collect me, bearing the fruits of his morning's labours, fresh from the nearby seashore. A wooden trug overflowed with samphire and sea purslane, while a bright yellow bucket was filled to the brim with different types of seaweed. A third basket was heavy with oyster mushrooms he'd gathered from a fallen tree trunk by the side of the road. The chef, local boy James Golding, who trained under Mark Hix at Le Caprice and ran the kitchen at Soho House, was delighted, and when I ordered the Sea & Shore Salad that evening, it was that harvest I enjoyed.

Setting off into the forest with his two dogs, Garry talked of a life-time's foraging and how as a boy he would set out at dawn to collect mushrooms for breakfast before school. He explained how and where to look for mushrooms, how they grow them, how to pick them, and which varieties are his all-time favourites: ceps - or porcini - horn of plenty, oysters and chanterelles. As we ventured deeper into the forest, down grassy paths, over rail-way lines, through shady glades and past sleepy streams, he would pause every so often and look around, nodding, 'Yes, I think I know where we are' and on we went.

As we walked through the still, quiet woods, my eyes were trained on the ground, searching left and right for signs of treasure. Garry was also scanning the dappled light beneath the boughs for signs of animal life. Red and roe deer are abundant in the New Forest and we should have seen plenty, but the cyclists zipping along the forest bike trails had perhaps scared them away. Finally, Garry stopped abruptly and pointed, and a little way away through the trees sat a majestic stag, alone and peaceful, his antlers glowing in the diffused sunlight.

We moved quietly onwards. It was too early and still too hot really for mushrooms but we found a few. My delight at spotting a dusty brown cap among the grass and fallen leaves was positively childlike. It's easy to see how this might develop into a full-time hobby. After all, what could be more rewarding than getting home with a basket of freshly foraged food and rustling it up into supper?

I was joined for dinner by two local friends and, as the sun went down, we settled for drinks in the courtyard. We started with a selection of 'Piggy Bits' - pork rillettes, crackling, warm hock eggs and homemade chorizo - and moved into the bar as the temperature fell. Sitting by the fire in deep leather armchairs, we perused the menu, choosing an array of delicacies, from scallops to steak, cured beef, pork chops, and veget-ables from the garden. It was a testament to the quality of the food that we managed to find space for puddings - gooseberry and elderflower tartlet, iced wild strawberry terrine and homemade ice cream.

I returned to my room, with its enormous bed, Roberts radio and books on henkeeping, tired, full and happy, and slept deeply, dreaming of the magical creatures deep in the forest.

Double rooms from £125. Three-course dinner from £35; breakfast £10-£15 (01590 622 354; thepighotel.co.uk)