Run run, as fast as you can…

…You can't catch me, I'm the gingerbread man!

Well this time, the sly old fox was me, that got to eat the gingerbread man!

A recent trip took me to Ashbourne in Derbyshire, home to the longest pub sign in the world and the maddest and biggest football match held at Shrovetide. Ashbourne's proximity has earned it the title of Gateway to The Peak District.

Ashbourne is also famous for its gingerbread biscuits and as far as I know there are a couple of places that make and sell them in the town. I visited Birds which resides in a black and white timber framed building in St Johns Street – you can't miss it as there's a hanging sign on the outside clearly depicting a gingerbread man.

Ashbourne gingerbread is not what you'd might expect, being much lighter in colour than the more familiar recipes. It is rather like a firm shortbread biscuit flavoured with ground ginger.
Its history is fascinating and the recipe is said to have been brought to the town by French prisoners during the Napoleonic wars. The personal chef of a captured French general reputedly made it in 1805 and his recipe was copied and used locally.

I just love the gingerbread men which are so traditional with their currant eyes and buttons and glacé cherry mouth – it makes a change from some of the over iced, grotty-looking ones covered with Smarties you often see.

For those who no longer indulge their inner child, 'knobs' can also be bought. Mind your teeth though as the thickness and hardness can be tricky to bite into!

Photos: © childsdesign

Cobbled Streets, Cider and Butter

Having recently returned from an enjoyable stay in Brittany, I was still ignited with enthusiasm for the local cuisine and wanted to create something at home. Aside from the ubiquitous moules frites, crêpes and galettes, Brittany has so much more to offer on the food front.

While I was cooking, I was taken back to the steep cobbled streets of Dinan or the rugged shores of Île-de-Bréhat...

Poulet au Cidre Breton

Brittany produces some very fine cider, everything from a good country style not unlike our Somerset or Herefordshire ciders to the more refined ‘Champagne’ varieties. Brittany, although in France is not a wine producing region and so it invests it’s time in using apples to make a pleasing array of brews.
This dish is fragrant with apples as the cider infuses the chicken making it tender and fall-off-the-bone succulent. The chicken is best cooked on the bone to give a robustness of flavour. After I removed the breasts and legs from the whole bird, I used the rest to make stock, picking off any remaining meat after it had cooked.
Although not the most photogenic of dishes, my husband did his photographic best to make it look appetising, but I can assure you it tastes very good, even if I do say so myself.
Sauté potatoes and french beans go very well with it, I think.

Ingredients
1 chicken, jointed, use the legs and breasts
2 apples, preferably Golden Delicious, cored and cut into 1cm dice
3 large onions, sliced
50g butter
500ml dry cider
4 tblsp crème fraîche
a good grating of nutmeg
salt and pepper to taste

Method
In large heavy saucepan, melt half the butter and add the onions and apples and fry gently for about 5-7 minutes until golden.
Melt remaining butter in large frying pan and brown the chicken breasts on all sides for about 3 minutes. Transfer the chicken pieces to the onion and apple mixture and stir well to combine.
Pour in the cider, add nutmeg and season with salt and pepper. Bring to the boil and then turn down to a simmer and cover with a lid.
Allow to simmer for approximately 30-40 minutes.
When the chicken is cooked and tender remove from the cooking liquid and set aside, keep warm in a low oven.
Skim any excess fat from the liquid and reduce the liquid by half, cooking on a medium heat to allow it to evaporate.
Stir the crème fraîche into the cider sauce and allow to cook for a further few minutes until the sauce thickens.
Serve the chicken in bowls with the sauce spooned over.


Gateau Breton

This cake is wickedly rich and celebrates one of Brittany’s finest products, butter. Part way between a dense sponge and shortbread it has an irresistible flavour and texture.
I decided to add the extra filling of prunes after being inspired by one I bought in Brittany last year. The cake is often plain without the stripe of sticky fruit, but I love the extra dimension that the prunes give – it’s like the most decadent fig roll you’ll ever eat.
The cake is supposed to have diamond shapes scored into the top, but I don’t know what happened to mine – they filled in on cooking, however, that didn’t affect the taste.

Ingredients
250g soft ready to eat prunes
1 tsp vanilla extract
6 egg yolks
200g lightly salted butter, softened
175g caster sugar
250g plain flour
half teasoon baking powder

Method
Preheat the oven to 160C/325F/Gas 3.
Chopped the prunes, very finely and put into a bowl and mix in the vanilla extract.
Beat the egg yolks together in a bowl, then reserve a little of the egg in a small bowl to use as a the glaze.
Add the softened butter to the egg yolks and beat until soft and well blended.
Add the sugar and flour and work into a slightly sticky dough.
Lightly butter a 22.5cm/9inch loose-bottomed cake tin.
Divide the dough into 2 equal pieces.
Press one half of the dough into the tin, using your fingers. It does get very sticky to work with, so put a sheet of cling film over the top to stop your fingers getting too messy.
Spread over the prune mixture evenly over the dough.
Press on the second half of the dough, smoothing the top with a palette knife.
Using a knife,score into diamonds across the top, then brush with the reserved egg yolk.
Baked for 50 mins.
Cool slightly before transferring to a wire rack


Meringues
(or what to do with the 
left-over egg whites)

I did think about freezing the egg whites, but knowing my track record of remembering what’s in the freezer, I thought they would be exiled to a frozen doom and be wasted, so meringues were the answer.
Inspired by the stacks seen in patisserie windows (like the one in the quaint medieval town of Moncontour, pictured below) I set about making big crunchy-on-the-outside and chewy-in-the-middle confections. Not wanting anything plain to look at, I got arty with some food colouring.
The texture is achieved by folding in a little cornflour and vanilla extract is added for a more interesting flavour.

Food photos: ©childsdesign 2010




Now for a little favour…

If you’ve ever dreamed of owning your own home in France, this could be the perfect location for you. (I should know, I've stayed in it and it's lovely)
This 4 bedroomed very detached house, set in grounds covering almost an acre is located in the small town of Lanvollon in the heart of rural Brittany.
Picturesque, peaceful, quiet and in an area of natural beauty Lanvollon is within easy reach of both airports and ports.
See www.buyfrenchhouse.co.uk for more details

Win The Greatest Holiday in the World!

The Greatest Holiday in the World



   
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You could be trying a vast range of cuisines from north to south and from east to west, sampling a smorgasbord in Sweden, lingering over an evening of tapas in Spain, or even eating Dograma (don’t worry it’s a refreshing cold soup) in Azerbaijan.
With over 200 Radisson Blu hotels in over 50 countries there is vast and diverse menu of cultures to choose from.
Now I’ve got you feeling hungry for the experience why not enter the competition to enable you to have the holiday, or series of holidays of a lifetime? As soon as I had the opportunity to enter, I didn’t hesitate – it’s so easy to do.
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As long as you are either an EU citizen, or a citizen of Norway, Iceland, Liechtenstein or Switzerland you can participate.
To enter, simply visit the website (link at the top of this post) and tell Radisson why you deserve to win. It’s quick and easy and you’ll create a candidate page with your short story, so that other visitors to the competition site can vote and nominate you. The more votes you get, the higher up the rankings you go, increasing your chances of winning. You can also upload pictures and even a link to your YouTube video to enhance your candidate page if you wish.
If you’re feeling more creative there is also the added opportunity for yet another special prize.
Of course I’d be very honoured if you would vote for me, click here
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It would be great to read your comments – I’d love to know what you’ve submitted as your entry and where your dream destinations are and please let your friends know about this competition as it’s really too good to miss!


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A Taste of North Norfolk

Big skies, salt marshes and pure nature make the North Norfolk coast a truly beautiful place to be, and I think we have been blessed with one of the finest weeks of the summer* that's going to make our holiday all the more enjoyable.

The whole point of our break in Blakeney is to relax. There's no itinerary and no over inflated expectations of what we'll experience while we're here either.
Our cottage is tucked away next to the old Friary Farm house and just a short stroll along a country footpath to the quayside.

Crabbers line the harbour, legs dangling over the

quayside at Blakeney

Looking at Blakeney today, it is hard to imagine that it used to be a bustling and thriving port. This was hundreds of years ago, of course, and time and tide have gradually silted up the harbour, meaning that the town is now set back from the coast by a good mile or so.
This, however, hasn’t affected Blakeney’s appeal as it’s quite a popular getaway location. Despite the number of visitors it doesn’t fill up so much that it becomes detracting, and that’s just the way I like it.

Ever popular with children who fill their days with crabbing off the quay, water-filled buckets at the ready as the eager crabbers dangle twine baited with bacon into the muddy channel, Blakeney has a certain charm that gives you the feeling that it is still very much set in a pleasant time in the past.

The tide's out and the mud is perfect for samphire

Sailing boats line the edge of the channel or cut as it’s known, their hulls stranded in the mud waiting for the return of the tide.
I’m amazed at what is able to grow in such a salty environment. There’s sea lavender, sea blight and of course the ubiquitous and very edible marsh samphire.

Although food hunting is not the primary purpose of our trip, we can’t avoid it, as Norfolk is bountiful with fine produce. Seafood is plentiful and it is common to see a crab shed selling not only crab, but local lobsters and mussels too.

Outside the deli in Blakeney

Picnic Fayre delicatessen at Cley-next-the-Sea

Both Blakeney and it’s neighbouring village, Cley-next-the-sea have delicatessens.
We pay a visit to Picnic Fayre in Cley and it doesn’t disappoint. Taking heed of the chalkboard outside we pick up some local homemade lavender bread, a focaccia style loaf fragrant with rosemary as well as the lavender and the added spike from some chilli flakes.

The inviting chalk board

Soft, spicy and scented lavender bread

We also need a bottle of wine.The deli has a good selection of wines from around the world and at a resonable price too, but the one bottle turns into two when a Norfolk sloe wine beckons from the shelf. This turns out to be rather good, not at all ‘home brew’ in nature, but well refined in flavour.

A good country wine – sloe-ly does it!

The place has become quite busy by now, so we stand in a small queue waiting to pay. I’m sure our wait has been engineered so that we don’t miss the pork pies nestling in the counter. They do look very tempting, so we add a couple of handmade, rare breed pork and caramelised red onion pies to our shopping.

I’m so glad we did, as they turn out to be the best we have ever tasted. The pastry is light and and crisp and not at all lardy and the meat is succulent and full of flavour with just the right amount of herbs and seasoning. Perfect

Could these be the best pork pies in the world?

Cley's famous smokehouse

Still on the food trail we cross the road to Cley’s famous smokehouse. Through the small bright pink door we enter the shop and are presented with cabinets full of smoked delights. There's so much to choose from, kippers, buckling, mussels, haddock, red herring… but we decide on the smoked mackerel, naturally cured and smoked using an age old family recipe, they are plump, juicy and full of flavour, making an ideal breakfast.

Just up the road from Blakeney, Wiveton Hall

Slightly dubious spelling but delicious all the same

North Norfolk has so much to offer and when it was time to leave I was feeling hungry for more, but I guess that'll have to be another visit some time in the future…

*Holiday taken in the middle of August

Here are some links for the places I've mentioned:

Blakeney Delicatessen

Picnic Fayre

Cley Smokehouse

Wiveton Hall

Holkham Beach

Holkham Beach is probably the best beach I've ever been too.

AMAZING!

For more photos from my trip visit Flickr


Note: This article is now published on the Norfolk Holiday Guide website

Brittany Break

I've recently returned from a trip to Brittany in France, and what an eye opener it has been. Seeing how the locals live has made me think about what is sadly lacking from our everyday lives here in the UK.

We stayed in in the small town of Lanvollon which is in the department of Côtes d'Armor. It's a lovely quiet place away from the hustle and bustle of the tourist towns, but for somewhere so seemingly laid back it has all the amenities including a fantastic supermarket. Considering the fact that Super U is a chain supermarket, which could be compared to our very own Sainsbury's or Tesco, it far supercedes our British counterparts. The quality and range of produce is astounding. I found myself almost giddy with excitement when I saw the fresh fish counter, and as Brittany is fringed by such a beautiful and bountiful coastline, it should have been no surprise really. We bought some locally caught moules (that's mussels to you and me) which we ate that evening, just simply done with some shallots, parsley, white wine and butter. They were deliciously sweet and tender.

Butter is big in Brittany and features heavily in many regional baked goods. I'm even thinking that if I can't buy the best croissants at home then I'm not going to bother with them again. Proper French croissants are flaky on the outside, soft in the middle and so buttery, you don't need anything else with them. As for the Breton cake, well that was melt-in-the-mouth heaven. I knew of the local cake and I even have a recipe for it, torn from a magazine, tucked away somewhere, but I had never tried it until now. We bought one that had some prune purée in between its shortcake-like layers – very nice.

Something I discovered about traditional Brittany butter is that there is never an unsalted variety. The Bretons like their butter salted and probably more so than we do, but there is a half-salted version for the more health conscious! Some types even contain little crunchy sea salt crystals.

Despite Brittany having a large dairy farming industry it doesn't make any cheese, which I find rather odd, but being in France there's no shortage from other regions. We found some delicious Comte, not just one type as you you'd maybe see in your local deli, but several, each having been differently aged.

Cheese of course, needs some bread to accompany it and a rich-tasting crusty baguette was in order. I like bread, but I love real French bread - it's just so tasty. Bread is an obvious daily requirement in the Breton home as it's not uncommon to see someone go out every day just to pick up a loaf. On a Sunday too, as the boulangerie is open well into the afternoon.

Baking seems to be an integral part of French life as there seems to be a boulangerie, patisserie or biscuiterie at every turn. Why isn't everyone fat in France with such a rich diet? That'll be the French Paradox then. I'm betting that all those fresh fruit and vegetables help negate the bad effects... oh and the wine is reputably beneficial of course.

Brittany is certainly a very picturesque part of France and is strangely reminiscent of Cornwall and Devon with its craggy coves, fishing villages and sandy beaches. The open countryside is grazed by cows and there are fields of maize and globe artichokes. The artichokes make for an interesting and attractive crop, I think.

I definitely fell in love with the area, especially the coast, so its marked for a revisit in the not so distant future.

For more pictures click here

It's a Coffee and Cake Thing

Café culture has become one of our past times over the years and I think we owe it largely to our holidays spent in Reykjavik.

Coffee is definitely big in Iceland, strong too and it usually comes with endless free refills. In fact, the refill is a positive sign that you're welcome to stay as long as you like, unlike in some coffee franchises in the UK, which expect you to drink up and then leave. Shame on anyone who takes too long, or dares to carry on reading a book long after their cup is drained!

View across Reykjavik's Faxaflói Bay to the island of Viðey

When we visit during the colder months a cozy café is a welcome respite from the often face-numbing arctic winds which race across the ocean.

On our recent trip we fell into Tíu Dropar on Reykjavik's main street, Laugavegur. It's a little homely place that sits just below street level, so the view out of the window gives one the amusing sight of feet going by – so it's more shoe than people watching!

I really like this place, it's more traditional than some of the other more swanky designer-style establishments in the city. It's popular with the locals too, which is always a good sign.

The small wooden tables are all snuggled into this warm and inviting room whose walls are hung with some interesting historical prints of local figures and old Reykjavik life. The crockery is rustic and slightly mismatched, adding to the charm. This place does not pretend to be anything that it's not – it's real through and through. I think you know what I mean when I say that, we've seen those places that try too hard to create a look and atmosphere, but it's so obviously 'themed'.

The unassuming entrance to the charming cosy café

The café offers a range of fresh sandwiches, salads, soups, etc, but we couldn't resist their homemade chocolate cakes. Historically, Icelandic people have a very sweet tooth and the array of tasty baked goods available is testament to that fact.

Traditionally, Icelandic housewives would always offer their guests plenty of of strong coffee and quantities of cakes, pancakes and pastries – and that was before the dinner finally arrived on the table!

Kaffe og Kaka

The name of the café comes from an Icelandic expression "bara tíu dropar" which literally translates as "just ten drops" and means something like; "I'm-just-asking-for-a-little-but-really-I-want-another-full-cup". Well, it was cold and windy outside, so we felt the same too.

Want to know more about Reykjavik? Click here

The Reykjavik Kitchen Exhibition

We’ve recently returned from a short break in Reykjavik and whilst we were there we visited a small exhibition about food in Reykjavik. It runs until 23 November, so if any of you are there then, I’d recommend you go and have a look too.

The exhibition is in one of the oldest houses in Reykjavik and shares the building with Kraum – a shop containing work from 80 different Icelandic designers.
The displays take you through different periods in time, showing how the people of Reykjavik have changed their eating habits over the last hundred years. There are kitchen artifacts, old photos and handwritten recipes and although all the information is in Icelandic I found I could get a pretty good idea of the ‘story’... okay I’ve cheated a little – I picked up a leaflet which had an abridged version in English!

The story told in chronological order, begins in 1900 when Reykjavik was a growing town of 6700 residents.

1900-1930 Reykjavik was primarily a fishing town, and its residents lived on seafood but also had access to a variety of food in stores. Shortages often occurred due to communication difficulties and farm products, especially milk were affected. The diet in Reykjavik was considerably different to that in other parts of Iceland, where mutton, milk and butter were more readily available. In Reykjavik, the ordinary person’s daily diet was fish, skyr (a cultured dairy product, rye bread, margarine and coffee. Well-off people tended to indulge themselves in the Danish tradition – the Danish influence being strong at the time as Iceland was ruled by Denmark. Most common people ate fish twice a day, either dried, salted or fresh, with swede or rye bread. Skyr was also a daily food item. Rye was the main cereal staple, but all other types of grain had to be imported because of the harsh climate and short summers.

1930-1960 Import restrictions stretched right into the 1960s and many foreign foods disappeared from Reykjavik’s tables, this forced people to return again to domestically produced food.
As domestic food production grew quickly, the diet of the townspeople differed greatly by class and there were often great food shortages for poor people. Fish was still a common food for all classes, and in most families fish was the main meal three or four times a week. As no fruit is grown in Iceland, fruit was a scarce commodity, with its import being greatly restricted, as was the case for vegetables. Plots for growing vegetables were available to the residents of Reykjavik where they grew potatoes, carrots, swedes, rhubarb and kale. However, imported sugar was an important part of the diet, and sugar consumption in Europe seldom equalled that of the Icelanders.
During World War II the diet improved, and meat was seen more often on the table. The British and American occupying forces brought new things with them, and canned meat, beer, chewing gum and various delicacies became popular with the townspeople.
Even a group of idealistic vegetarians emerged, despite the import restrictions on fruit and vegetables.

1960-1975 Free trade was instituted in the period 1959-1971, and the selection of goods in stores increased greatly. International food culture began making itself felt, and various speciality food stores sprang up. Freezers and other home appliances had a dramatic effect on food preparation. The popularity of cured, pickled and salted foods dwindled, while fresh and frozen foods became readily available. Fruit and vegetables became an important part of people’s daily consumption. Self-service stores and shopping centres began to appear.

1975-2000 Exotic foods and food traditions came to Iceland with free trade and Icelander’s trips abroad. The hamburger and pizza generation grew up and turned to pasta, Mexican and Asian food. Fish, the everyday diet of the people of Reykjavik, became popular for holiday meals and restaurant courses, and people went out to eat more and more often, instead of the friendly shopkeeper on the corner, ever bigger shopping centres took over, and the selection of food became incredible. Fast food seized the day, and the family’s eating habits changed in the daily grind. The family meal lost its former status and became rarer. Around 2000, Reykjavik became a city of 111,000, and the food patterns became more like those of big cities abroad.

Well, there you have it, a potted history of Reykjavik’s food culture.

Reykjavik has become quite cosmopolitan and experimental in the food arena over the last eight years. When we first visited in 2000 there were only a couple of ethnic restaurants in the city, but now that number has grown into a substantial quantity of establishments. The people of Reykjavik have embraced more diverse flavours and the chefs are not afraid to apply some kitchen alchemy to produce fusion style dishes using top quality Icelandic ingredients. Maybe fusion has had its day in Britain, but Iceland has had a fair deal of catching up to do – and it’s doing it very well.

The organisers of the exhibition, Matur-saga-menning (Food-history-culture) whose aims are to strengthen people’s knowledge of Icelandic food and to call attention to the cultural heritage of food traditions, are currently in the process of collecting old recipes from different regions and districts and this is high on the association’s wish list.
So, if I have any Icelandic readers out there who feel that they could help the association in their quest, you can get information to the association and/or join it on its website www.matarsetur.is.

You can also send a letter to:

Matur-saga-menning,

ReykjavíkurAkademian,

Hringbraut 121,

107 Reykjavik.

Matur-saga-menning website – all in Icelandic but has some interesting pictures from the exhibition. There are recipes too, but again, in Icelandic.
www.matursetur.is

A couple of Icelandic recipes from my previous posts.
Fiskibollur (Fish Balls)
Piparkökur (Icelandic Pepper Cookies)

For an insight into Icelandic cooking you can see some recipes here

The Icelandic Design centre

www.kraum.is

The Pearl of Kent: Whitstable

There’s something about the sea that has an instant attraction for me. I’m not sure why, but it has a positive effect on my well-being.

Lately, we’ve both been suffering the strains of modern life, so a long weekend away was in order. Actually my husband likes the sea too so a break by the coast, somewhere, just anywhere was an absolute must.

We decided on Whitstable as it’s not too far to travel but is significantly different to where we live. Neither of us has ever been there before either, although a long time ago, I went on a school field trip to Broadstairs, which is further up the Kent coast.

Whitstable has everything I like about a costal town. It has a working fishing harbour, bringing in some of the finest seafood in the country, oysters in particular, for which it is famed. It isn’t commercialised in the sense that it has those awful amusement arcades and trashy pier attractions. There’s something left of the old days that gives it a true soul and character. I suppose it is so undeniably steeped in history.

Food and Lodging 
It is worth mentioning that we stayed in a bed and breakfast, as we wouldn’t normally choose to do so. Up until recently British B&Bs have had a notorious reputation that has, I confess, put us off in the past. We stayed at The Pearl Fisher, which thankfully blew away all those stereotypical images of old. Our hosts for the weekend, Gary and Jan Hartley-Trigg are a really lovely couple. They were always friendly and attentive but never intrusive.

Our room was tastefully decorated, complete with en-suite, and we were even able to choose a time slot for breakfast. Yes, the breakfast; absolutely fantastic. What a spread; our ‘first course’ consisted of a choice of cereal, fresh fruit and yogurt. Then the ‘second course’, cooked to order. There certainly wasn’t any skimping on the quality here, the bacon was thick and most certainly dry-cured, the sausages were of a high meat content and very tasty and the eggs were expertly scrambled to a beautiful creamy soft texture. Fried mushrooms accompanied this, with fresh grilled tomatoes and some slices of toast. There definitely wasn’t any sign of cutting corners and dashing to the cash and carry, these ingredients had been carefully selected, locally.

Replete with the fabulous Full English, we were then offered toast. We couldn’t refuse as we were itching to try some of the locally made preserves.

Well, that breakfast certainly set us up for the day!

The weather wasn’t particularly kind to us on one day; we were caught in a most torrential downpour of rain. Rivers ran down the streets and trying to shelter in shop doorways did little to keep us dry as the passing traffic sent up great splashes and soaked us even more.

We couldn’t really go anywhere now, as we were too wet! I don’t think sitting in a restaurant would have been good either for us or the proprietor! So it was back to our room via a Chinese takeaway to get changed. By a stroke of luck, our hosts offered to tumble-dry our clothes for us. Like I said, they were very thoughtful and attentive. I would highly recommend the Pearl Fisher to anyone.

Taste of the Sea 
Whitstable has become known as a foodie destination, and justly so, the seafood is first class, but it wasn’t my actual reason for going. Initially, I actually had no idea of its culinary claims, it was only the draw of the coast and it’s quaintness that attracted me. However we did sample some good food, but as I’m not really in the habit of doing restaurant reviews I’ll just say that it was all very good.

Oysters are Whitstable’s famous speciality. Everyday the boats go out to dredge for them, from the beds that are situated about a mile off shore. The catch may also comprise of other shellfish, such as winkles, whelks and cockles, which are sold fresh-caught and cooked at the quayside. It was refreshing to see children eating them, especially these days, when most kids are fussy and won’t touch anything unless it comes with fries from a certain burger chain.

Oysters, or any fish and seafood for that matter, can be rather expensive if bought in any of the restaurants, but if you're not too fussy about enjoying them outside from a plastic plate/cup, then do buy them from the Fish Market or West Whelks on the harbour. This is a sure way of saving some money and sampling top quality sea fare, plus sitting out in the open air with the smell of the sea always seems to improve the taste, I think.

Simple Pleasures
I found Whitstable to be a good place to relax. With no particular agenda to adhere to we spent our time wandering around the harbour and along the shingle beach or browsing the shops and galleries.

The town is an attractive place to artists, and I can see why, as I found it inspiring too. Occasionally, I like to paint and the quality of light and colour and quirkiness of the place has reignited my creative spark. I must get out those paintbrushes.

I get an enormous feeling of satisfaction having walked along the coast. Fresh sea air is so uplifting – you sort of feel exhausted and invigorated at the same time – so that must be a sign of it doing you some good.

Little rest stops here and there allowed us to stare out to sea, watching the windsurfers and fishing boats. Far on the horizon vast container ships, carrying cargo between Dover and Europe, moved slowly past a backdrop of wind turbines sticking out of the Kentish Flats. There’s been much controversy concerning off shore wind farms, but I happen to feel that they are not a blot on the landscape, but rather they’re an interesting feature, besides, this one is sufficiently far away so as not to be intrusive.

Shopping
The High Street has many shops for those looking for something arty or designer orientated. There are a couple of 'junk' shops for the collector, bookshops and clothes boutiques. Whitstable has pretty much everything on a small scale – there are no chain stores that I could see – Canterbury, about seven miles away, is your best option if you want those.

I am fiercely jealous of this town, for such a small place it is well furnished with several decent butchers, fishmongers, greengrocers and bakers. It does have two small supermarkets in the centre, but I could have easily given them a miss.

There’s also the Harbour Village, a kind of market, selling crafts and local produce. I had the impression it was larger from what I’d read, so was a little disappointed. There was, however, a stall selling Kent strawberries and plums, and one of those will be used in a crumble featuring in a future post.

Is it Worth Going Back?
To put it this way, I didn’t want to go home. Three days just didn’t seem long enough.
Now that I’ve seen what Whitstable has to offer, I’d love to return for a longer period of time and maybe stay in self-catering accommodation. I have no qualms about cooking whilst on holiday and would welcome the idea of preparing a meal made from the freshly caught local seafood.

I noticed that there is a “Hands Off Our Harbour” campaign in operation. It would appear that certain developers want to regenerate the harbour into some kind of yuppie haven. Obviously the locals do not want this to happen, and neither do I for that matter, even if I am just a tourist. So just as long as it remains as it did when I last visited, I shall continue to return.

Further Information
Don’t be satisfied with the few pictures in this post, have a look at all of them on my Flickr page here

I highly recommend The Pearl Fisher Bed & Breakfast; it has a list of consistently good reviews on Trip Advisor
You can book online:
www.thepearlfisher.com

For those looking for art and crafts and local produce try:
www.whitstableharbourvillage.co.uk

More information about Whitstable, on what to do, where to eat etc:
www.whitstableonline.com 
www.seewhitstable.com

"It's Puddings, Not Tarts!"

We found ourselves in Bakewell by accident, much like the famed puddings made in the town. The day trip to the Derbyshire Peak District, yes, I did say day trip, had another purpose – to meet up with family members, on a visit from abroad, whom we hadn’t seen for quite sometime.

We would have been perfectly happy to wander around Ashbourne, the town in which they were staying, but suggestions for some kind of day trip were made. Not exactly high on our agenda, as we’d already got up at stupid o’clock and driven for nearly three hours, much of it on the M1, through torrential rain and mucky spray.
Thankfully, the weather did not follow us all the way and it was dry, although very windy by the time we got there.

Not wanting to cause a fuss by making protests against any planned gallivanting, it was back in the car for the 17-mile drive, taking about 40 minutes, to Bakewell.
Don’t feel sorry for me; direct your sympathies towards my poor husband. I can’t drive, you see. I have tried a couple of times and taken tests, but I don’t think it’s for me – neither does the examiner.

We’ve been to this part of Derbyshire on a number of occasions and I still love the countryside with its lush rolling hills with fields full of rugged sheep and multi coloured cattle, and the rocky crags, valleys and rivers. But what I find most refreshing is that nearly all of the houses are built of stone. I find red brick so uninspiring and there’s a lot of it where I come from.

Bakewell seems to have been scrubbed up since our last visit, more than five years ago and a few things have changed, but despite it being a touristy town it still has plenty of old character and remains faithful to its historical roots. Around 924AD Edward the Elder who was the son of Alfred the Great established a military post or burgh at Badecanwyllan (bath well). This was probably the true beginning of the town. In the Domesday Book of 1085 the settlement was described as Badequella, from which the current name of Bakewell has evolved.
Obviously not only has the town evolved by name but by nature too as it grew over the centuries to become the Bakewell of today.

Access to the main car parks took us over the 13th century bridge that crosses the river Wye. It’s fine mediaeval arches reflected in the clear water where ducks, swans and geese were paddling, and if you looked closely you could even see huge trout swimming against the current – amazing! Why is it when I should be marvelling at the wonders of nature that a tasty fish recipe pops into my head? Seeing that trout hovering in the shallow water, almost made me want to jump in and catch it with my bare hands. The idea works in my head, but I doubt it would in reality! Slippery things, fish.

I would advise anyone intending on a trip to Bakewell that they plan to get there early, if visiting at weekends and especially so on Bank Holidays. It was Sunday and there were lots of people, which for me doesn’t seem quite right, in what I think should be a sleepy town. The place does tend to fill up very quickly with cars too, and on the downside, that makes for a lot of noise and dust. I imagine the source of the dust to be from the many nearby limestone quarries. Bikers can also be seen gathering and zipping up and down the main street in preparation for their blast up Snake Pass further into the Peak.

What’s with all the dogs too? I’ve never seen so many in one town all at the same time! To amuse myself I took a few sneaky photos of said pooches and hounds. . .

As I mentioned earlier Bakewell is famed for its puddings. The Bakewell pudding (please note NOT tart) was created by way of a culinary mistake and is nothing like what Mr Kipling will have you believe. It’s not spongy, there’s no icing and definitely no cherry!

The story goes (there are many versions) that the pudding was invented by accident, over 200 years ago. Mrs Greaves, landlady of The White Lion Inn in 1860, (now the site of The Rutland Arms) asked one of her kitchen maids to make a strawberry tart. The maid, instead of making a sweet pastry base, using eggs and sugar, left them out and instead, she mixed them together to fill the plain pastry case which was coated with strawberry jam. Apparently there was also reported to be a 'secret ingredient'! My guess is that it may have something to do with the almond flavouring. There doesn't seem to be a record of the maid’s name, so Mrs Greaves takes the credit for inventing the dish! Mrs Greaves left the recipe to a Mr Radford, who in turn passed the 'secret recipe' to a Mr Bloomer.

I rather like this version from the author Alison Uttley, mostly known for her Little Grey Rabbit books – I enjoyed her stories as a child too. This is taken from Recipes from an Old Farmhouse: “Cover a wide shallow dish with thin puff paste. Put in it a layer of jam, preferably raspberry, but any kind will do. It should be half an inch thick. Take the yolks of eight eggs and beat the whites of two. Add half a pound of melted butter and half a pound each of sugar and ground bitter almonds. Mix all well together, and pour into the pastry case over the jam. Bake for half an hour and serve nearly cold." There are three establishments in the town claiming to be the home of the original pudding but I think this shop really is the one: Bloomers, in Water Street.

Piled right up to the old low ceiling beams are cakes, puddings, pies and various other delectable pastries made from good local ingredients with no undesirable unnatural additives. Meats, cheeses and preserves are available too.

We bought two traditional Bakewell Puddings and a jar of local organic honey, which we later enjoyed on spelt bread toast. I can never resist buying a pot of good honey wherever I go! Although we didn’t buy one this time, I can highly recommend their pork pies too. On our last holiday visit, we had one and no other pork pie has been able to stand up to it since*. Oh and their lamb and mint pasties are incredible.

It may have been a whirlwind visit, but somehow it almost seems worth it to travel half way up England just for the puddings! I think we’ll be going back when the one in the freezer is finally devoured! In the meantime I found my little book of Favourite Peak District Recipes, that I bought on our last visit, so that will keep me busy in the kitchen testing out the delights of Derbyshire. * Since writing this post I discovered another pork pie which has won me over – sorry folks in Bakewell!