The Same Journey - but by train

I have wittered on about the motorway food stops I have had to endure but this time because of time constraints I have had to do a journey up-north by train. I love taking the train. I used to go back and forth from London to Yorkshire (3hours) each Christmas and 1 or 2 times throughout the year, but Christmas was the best time. I got totally prepared with a cheese, salami, crusty bread, olives....and a little bottle of wine. I had my book and mini disc player (remember those, they never quite made it did they) and I always booked a seat by the window with a table.
This train journey I was just as prepared (table seat, window, no music though, just a good book). The guy opposite with his Toshiba plugged in working hard on the way to Newcastle told me my train picnic smelt amazing and that he was quite jealous (he purchased a sandwich from the trolly- oh dear!). I introduced him to Stinking Bishop, he liked, a lot, and he's now going to seek out his nearest deli.
Think I'll have to splash out and go by train again. I could do cheese and wine tasting sessions to pass the time.

Mince Pie Heaven

In the shop we are selling hundreds of mince pies per day. People just don't bake anymore and they are so delicious I can understand why, it's not really a faff it's just people don't even own bun trays anymore. If you're a baker you'd be one of few amongst your friends, but very popular!
A sales rep tried to convince me to try their mince pies to sell this year, we've been selling them for 6 weeks now. Why don't these companies plan ahead? Also, they're made with puff pastry she proudly announced. Hello!! Wake up and smell the coffee. People do not want puff pastry, people want tradition. They don't want something different, they want to be taken back to the past with lovely memories of mince pie baking with mum.
My Dad posts me some in a tin which I have to take back at Christmas for the following years' mince pie delivery. What a good Dad I have.
Warm with brandy butter or just cold as they come.....Christmas heaven!
The Americans haven't a clue what they are, the amount of times in my life I've had the "so it's meat in pastry with sweet icing sugar....I don't get it" conversation. It's a peculiar concept to them calling it a mince pie I do understand.....but they do have pumpkin pie (sicky sweet) and maple syrup and bacon together so maybe not so strange, beef mince and icing sugar....now there's a new sales pitch.

My Motorway-Food-Torture Update

Leaving Yorkshire in the pouring rain for a long drive back to Sussex we listened to Jay Rayner, The Man who Ate the World. What a big mistake, by Doncaster we were licking our lips, by Grantham we were dreaming of marbled steaks (even though we'd left directly after a roast lamb 'dad-made' dinner), by Kettering we'd resorted to Haribo sours, by Stevenage we were eating each others arms. The audio cd is one of the travellers greatest friends, but make it a comedy, a romance, a play, an autobiography....anything but a book about food or you'll be joining the M25 hoping you hit traffic, just so you can hang out the window and indicate to a fellow driver that you'll pay a premium for that last bite of Twix.

A (Yorkshire)Lancashire Hotpot

Coming from a Yorkshire girl a Lancashire hotpot may seem wrong, but I wanted to be part of the pre-dinner conversation therefore needed a leave-in-the-oven meal.

We had friends over who love food and will try anything (I love entertaining for people like that). They were fans of my oxtail last winter and have even tried out something they ate at my table for their friends, which I think is the greatest compliment.

Lancashire Hotpot is so simply delicious that adding little extras is NOT the way to go. It doesn't have a lot of ingredients, P was a little worried and said "it'd better be good" when I refused his idea of adding rosemary or "at least some other veg...or something".

I would usually use neck but we were late to the butcher so I had to go for a lovely fatty shoulder. Four hours later, and after our starter of seared scallops with minted pea puree, we were in for a treat. I think this is one of those dishes you should serve at the table. My pub book tells me to split into 4 smaller dishes before cooking the last part, I think it's a sharing dish and should be presented this way.

Accompanied by (too much) good aussie shiraz which cut through the fattiness of the meat, it was superb. We were all full and ready for a light cheese board (but I don't do them light, so we had to find room in our tummies.....shame!)

Time for Tea

A delivery of rose tea arrived today. Now, some people may thing rose is a flower not tea, tea leaves from tea bushes make tea. I have to agree 100%. I am an avid tea drinker, nothing warms you up both inside and out as a hot cuppa.

It is drank after a shock, much better than any medicine. For cheering someone up, the cup-of- tea and sympathy remedy. Drank in the car, overlooking the stormy sea, it steams up the windows - very British. In small Irish villages some people have their own mug behind the bar for a cup of tea (when the hubby is drinking too much Guinness or Murphy's). In some workplaces unfortunate souls have to drink from polystyrene cups. The teapot sometimes wears a cosy...not sure where I am on that.

Tea can be Breakfast, Lovers Leap, Darjeeling, Gunpowder, Assam, Earl Grey, Afternoon, Lapsang, Oolong, builders, decaf (what's that all about?).......but when it comes to rose (or mint) I think we should think of a new name for the drink, lovely as it is if someone offered me a cup of tea and produced this it would be like being handed, say, a coffee when you requested tea.

Sun(all)day Lunch

Having eaten Sunday roast at home for the last few months I thought it was about time I indulged in a gastropub visit. I have heard only good things about the Griffin Inn, Fletching, East Sussex for a long time. And not quite got there. It's about an hours drive along small roads so you have to really want to get there, we did.
Cute village, looked a little quiet, opened the door and realised it was because the whole of Fletching and probably most of the surrounding villages were in the Griffin enjoying wine, beer (Harvey's Bonfire Boy, one of my faves), open fires and some of the most stunning food.
We had the 3 course for £30. Squid and sausage for me, scallops for P, calf's liver for me (P hates), Sussex lamb for P, chocolate torte with white choc sorbet to share, then a cheeseboard to share (the Olde Sussex turned out to be Montgomery's, they can't fool me, much of an improvement though if you want my opinion). Little bit stuffed, but then it's Sunday and you're supposed to feel a bit lethargic and over full. It's great going out for Sunday roast now and again, but there's nothing like the discussion over gravy when at home, "so-and-so on tv did it like this", "last week didn't you add something else", "it's better than that time you forgot the XXX", "are you sure there's enough?", "if Fay's coming to dinner, no".
Griffin Inn have really, really bad website by the way, would put you off visiting totally, so just ignore their lack of internet knowledge/design and take my word for it.

Motorway Food Torture

A solid 5 hours drive to Cambridge, which should only really be 2 and a half if you go by the AA route planner. I did expect 3 and a bit (what with the M25 carpark to join) but 5, wow!
But worth every hour to see a beautiful friend and her more beautiful daughter! And upon arrival a walk directly to food...and a bit of wine.
Today's drive was supposed to be 4 and a half hours so I didn't mind that it actually was. However, I unfortunately had to have my lunch on the way. And being unprepared, as not having left from home I had to join the sales execs, the lorry drivers, the bewildered tourists and the families on the way to visit granny at the dreaded motorway service station.

I had a choice of Burger King (a no, no), Costa coffee (overpriced dodgy toasties) and WHSmiths (a chocolate and crisps overdose?). They're sad, miserable places, all I wanted to do was get back in the car. But I was starving so had to eat a cheese toastie from costa with a fizzy water and a blank look so I'd fit in with everyone else.
I have stopped at a service station with an M&S once, I was so delighted you'd have thought I'd pulled into Fortnum & Mason drive through.
I think this country could try a little harder to make those long journeys (usually because of road works) less agonising by giving us a good reason to stop, and not just because your knee has ceased up, tummy making noises that travel sweets can't fix or bladder calling. Mind you, don't get me started on what food nightmares the Australian servos (as they'd call them) are. Anyone who's been on the Stuart Highway from Darwin to Alice will tell all.

The Slindon Pumpkin

Having not been in Sussex that long I was a new to the Slindon-Pumpkin-visit one must participate in before Halloween.
On this bright Monday, what great weather we’re getting this Autumn, I set off to find Slindon and the pumpkins. I gathered I was on the right track when I couldn’t park in this little village, lots of dirty 4x4’s (yes, people actually can claim to need them out here, unlike in Chelsea) and children everywhere. It’s half term so they were out in force. I parked, followed the crowds and arrived at the farm.
Fantastic! The roof is covered in pumpkins, a picture of butterflies and flowers. At Christmas we always drive out to see a particular house, one of those slightly mental OTT houses with snowmen, santa’s, sleighs, stars etc. Electricity bill-wow! I’ll be back to see the pumpkins, very clever and a must on the Sussex calendar.

The Great Wine Debate

Involved in yet another wine debate at the weekend. I was torn though. I don't really believe old world is better than new world or that any particular grape variety is the best.

I think every wine has it's place, well nearly every, surely no one was really meant to enjoy Black Tower. Blue Nun on the other hand did have a purpose, but that time is now gone, and so should the wine be.

But this debate was old against new. I live with a new world fanatic, I also have one as a Dad. I don't control the wine cellar in my house, I am too busy in the kitchen. I am always asked though, 'what would you like?', 'I'd like you to decide' is my usual reply. This way I don't need to go into the whole Cab goes better with lamb and Shiraz with beef, and this rose will be perfect for Thai, when are you next doing Thai? Or what about the sparkling shiraz, shall we have that with turkey on Christmas day? Or the semillon, when did you say you'd do that scallop dish.

I usually have to find the recipe to match P's chosen wine (not the 'normal' other way round). He does have an excellent cellar (and palate for that matter) so I won't complain, I suppose it makes an excellent cooking challenge for me, something I can't help but enjoy.

Not Drinking Coffee

I've been opting for tea rather than coffee for a few months now. I was deluded into thinking I'd loose a few centimeters round my waist (so could fit into new Boden skirt) from cutting out half a pint of semi-skimmed milk 4/5 times a week. It doesn't work so don't bother if you enjoy your coffee.

Coffee is a sad drink in the UK, we just don't really get it right. Having spent a year and a half enjoying the amazing coffee in Australia I now know why they snort at our sad efforts. Toby's, one of the most famous and well regarded coffee shops is where I spent my hard earned dollars. Smooth, rich, dark (and that was just the barista), this is where I learned how to make coffee and how to appreciate it.

When I pop up to Borough market (my old home) I always go to Monmouth Coffee, yes that queue is worth every drop. They don't burn the milk, they don't scald your mouth and it's not too cold, they don't make it too milky, they know what a flat white is, they are simply professional. It takes me back to morning coffee before a days work at the Wine Society, in a slightly edgy part of town, Wooloomooloo. Like drinking velvet, with the sun on your face......Mmm the memories.

Worthing 13th Beer Festival

Being a regular to the Great British Beer Festival held in Earls Court each August, P and I went to a local one in Worthing, on the smaller side of course, but still run by the dedicated men (sadly very few women) of CAMRA. So Friday night, in the rain, we headed out with empty bellies, full purses and high spirits (and me with pen and pad for notes!)
Oh, what joy, on arrival we received our pint glass for free (no £3 fee like in London), then passed a tombola; do you remember them from school fates? P had never seen one and laughed at the funny word, say it again, “tombola” I said, then though, yes what a strange word. It is an Italian word, meaning that spinning ‘tombola’ thing the raffle tickets sit in. Quite glamorous really, why we don’t just use a bucket and call it a raffle, I don’t know.
I won, I never win, but I won! A bottle of beer from 1977; it’s to celebrate The Silver Jubilee of our Queenie, 25th anniversary of her accession to the throne. Drinkable? Doesn’t even have the alcohol content P noted, didn’t we just get away with murder before all these silly laws.

Back to beer. The joy of joys – Yorkshire happened to be the ‘guest feature’ of the event. We started off on the pale, wheaty, lighter styles, Wheat and See for me, Canary for P, Festival Ale for me, Pin-Tailed Duck for P. Then to the dark beers; The Dark Side of the Moon and Brimstone. And finally the stouts Gorlovka Imperial Stout and Stallion. They only serve halves or pints. We usually have thirds at the GBBF so felt quite woozy and very happy that home wasn’t far to go (via the best curry in town of course).