Woodlea Stables Farm Shops - from sourdough weekends to film‑inspired feasts

For years, Woodlea Stables in Crossgates, Fife was a small operation and the kind of place where great sourdough drew word-of-mouth and weekend queues. Today, under the stewardship of Raymond Fagan and his wife Michelle, Woodlea has grown into a full farm shop and café without losing that homestead feel. The setting is rolling Fife farmland; the welcome is warm; great food made with local ingredients is the focus.

Raymond is an enthusiastic cook with a background in finance, and when you speak to him you hear the European travelogue behind his dishes, especially Spain. When I chatted with him one Saturday morning, he poured me freshly made horchata; an exciting alternative to your usual hot beverage and indicative of an adventurous kitchen mindset. 

His themed BYOB evenings have become a local fixture, and eventually I made it to one: a Saturday-night tasting menu built around films. For £45 you get around ten tapas‑sized courses, generous, sociable, and full of imagination.

The menu opens with Woodlea’s staples: focaccia and sourdough, plus a disc of heady truffle butter. Then the film references begin.

A Clockwork Orange: a deep, offally, umami‑rich chicken parfait with orange demi‑glace gel.

Anchorman II — Chicken of the Cave: wings lacquered in hot cherry sauce.

Jaws: salmon rillettes with caviar and that criminally underused herb, tarragon.

Ratatouille: or rather its Mediterranean cousin, caponata — aubergine, celery, onions, tomatoes, olives and capers, tasting unmistakably of Sicily.

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Cocktails follow the cinematic logic: martinis (stirred) and White Russians, naturally.

Then comes spaghetti and meatballs with a cloud of Parmesan espuma; a Big Kahuna Burger brightened by a natural citrus “sprite” that cuts through the fat; a grilled cheese stacked with mozzarella, Comté and cheddar; and finally, puddings.

What stands out in Raymond’s food is the quality of the ingredients, almost all local; the attention to detail; and the imagination that can only come from someone who genuinely loves food and wants to share that love. Perhaps that’s why the menu feels so generous. It's priced for the community.

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It was a brilliant evening where the theme becomes half the fun and the conversation flows because everyone is in on the joke. I only wish I’d had the foresight to dress accordingly. My friend Lesley did: she arrived head‑to‑toe in green, a nod to Shrek. 

Before Raymond had even finished the dishes, I was already asking about his next themed dinner. He mentioned football, and instantly you could see the possibilities: pies, scouse, Bovril — the kind of hearty, nostalgic flavours that feel exactly right for an autumn tasting menu.