We’re very lucky up here at Castle Farm to have the lovely people of Stream Farm just over the valley. The family that own and run the farm want to show … Continue reading Somerset Chicken
I’m a mother of 2 boys under the age of 5 whom I love to distraction. They are wonderful, disastrously naughty and utterly charming in equal measure. Yesterday the … Continue reading Macaroni and Cheese
I am blessed that the local village school is a mere 10 minute walk from my front door. This small but perfect establishment is where my mini blonde spends his days learning how … Continue reading The delights of Mendip Wallfish
Dear Monsieur Roux, In December I was given the enormous pleasure of eating at Le Gavroche. It was simply the most divine culinary experience of my life. Almost a month … Continue reading An open letter to Michel Roux Jr
I’m not normally one to name and shame but sometimes I feel the need to warn the world (and by the world I am in fact referring to my small but perfect Somerset existence) about a truly disastrous eatery. This place is The Enmore Inn on the outskirts of the divine little village that I call home.
From the outside the pub looks like a broken down miners welfare club and inside does no better. I was greeted by the new landlord who was smoking by the entrance in a dirty chef’s coat illustrating last night’s service in streaks reminiscent of a poor man’s version of the dessert trolley.
What really upset me though was the smell when I walked through the door. It made me gag and wish for rescue, I couldn’t breathe and was momentarily struck dumb by the waves of vile odour. It was I fear, my own version of the stench of Elizabethan London and put me off time travel for good. If Peter Capaldi ever comes calling I know now what answer I’ll be giving. Cigarette smoke mixed with stale beer, bad food, deep fat frying and dirt was all around me clinging to my skin, clothes and coating the inside of my throat. What ever food they were serving I was not eating and will never be going back.
This little trip did however get me thinking about smells and how they invade our memories and drive our desire to eat (or not!). I once had a bad bout of flu that started while I was making slow cooked lamb which has put me off sheep for life while the smell of garlic butter transports me to The Colony Hotel in Kennebunkport where we ate lobster till we popped, drank, swam and swayed all summer in this perfect All American paradise.
As Christmas approaches we’re bombarded with the scents of pine, cinnamon, clove, ginger and orange. Richly warm and intensely evocative, to me these are the memories of my childhood. This made me decide to share with you all my Grandmother’s Christmas Cake recipe that we’ve been making here as a family for many many years and is as famous to us as all of the other traditions we hold dear as a family. We affectionately called her Muffin hence the title of this post.
- 14oz of self raising flour
- 8 oz of rich Somerset butter
- 10oz of soft brown sugar
- 1 pound of mixed fruit and cherries
- 4 eggs
- 1/2 a pint of milk. This can be substituted for Somerset Royal Cider Brandy, freshly squeezed orange juice or a mixture of all three.
- 4/5 teaspoons of mixed spice
- Soak the fruit in the liquid over night or for 12 hours in a cool dark place and keep well covered.
- Melt the butter and sugar in a heavy bottomed pan.
- Add the fruit with it’s liquid and the spice.
- Simmer on a very low heat for 15-20 mins.
- Allow to cool
- Beat the eggs
- Add the eggs and the flour and stir in well with a wooden spoon until the mixture is combined.
- Poor into a deep cake tin (size will depend on how you want your cake to look – either short and fat or tall and graceful!).
- Bake on a low heat (150 degrees) or in the bottom of the AGA for 1.5 to 2 hours.
- Half way through the cooking place a piece of baking parchment over the top to prevent burning.
When the cake is cool place in a cake tin and feed with your cider brandy once a week until Christmas Eve. You can follow your own traditions either by covering in marzipan and icing and a jaunty little Christmas scene or by studding with more fruit and nuts. The Blonde is a huge fan of marzipan and I’m an ever bigger fan of jaunty little scenes (and brandy) so you know which way we’ll be jumping!
Thank you to http://www.haahandbook.co.uk for the scrumptious image.
To buy Somerset Royal Cider Brandy go to http://www.ciderbrandy.co.uk/
I have a friend who is as beautiful as she is kind. Many years ago she had the most blisskins of a job running a PR company that looked after many of London’s most luxury brands. However, searching for something more than endless champagne and scrumptious canapés with the editors of glossy magazines she quite suddenly upped sticks and moved to the wilds of Yorkshire to raise her two equally beautiful boys.
The point of this story is that when she moved she simply refused to change her outlook on fashion. This is not a girl who could be converted to tweed and welly boots. She knew what worked for her and was not about to copy the farmers wives in an attempt to fit in. She’s regularly seen marching across the village green on the school run in skinny jeans and sky-high heels with her Chanel chain bag flying like the most decadent of kites behind her. I just wish that many of the pubs and restaurants that inhabit the same countryside could copy her example.
I recently managed to drag myself away from Somerset to spend a few days with her and her family. One night we decided to try out the local village pub that had recently changed hands and was boasting a very impressive looking menu. I have very fond memories of this pub; of snuggling by the roaring open fire, chatting to the locals and eating super hearty Yorkshire food that was reasonably priced and reasonably tasty. You left with a full tummy, a warm heart and a general feeling of the Bon Vivant.
As we stepped in through the renovated front door it was rather a shock. It had been absolutely beautifully transformed into a cutting edge industrial eatery very much in the style of St John’s. White walls, reclaimed wooden tables and all manner of modernity. The food was as wonderful and innovative as the interior and the wine list impressive but I all the time I was there I was filled with an incredible longing for the old version of this village pub. I didn’t want this rebooted version of the boozer. I wanted cigarette stains on the ceiling and a comforting pint of ale. My bottom longed for the broken down leather chesterfield rather than the old school chair I was perched upon. I guess I wanted the new owners of this freehouse to have the faith that they didn’t need to completely rip and replace to make it a success. Comfortable and hearty can be mixed with the very best dining experience as the 2* Hand In Flowers has shown us. I often feel that the modern restaurateur is so obsessed with making the experience they provide unique that they forget what their public really want. I’m confident that this little pub tucked away between York and Harrogate will be a huge success but I’m also confident that most of their customers won’t be the locals.
This experience made me long for some of Great Britain’s most traditional of dishes and I’ve settled on heaping praise on the humble Welsh Rarebit. This dish originates back in the 1700’s and with the use of a good local Somerset cheddar cheese and the addition of a Bath Ale can be claimed as Somerset grub!
- 25g of butter
- 25g of plain flour
- l00ml of Dark Side Ale (Bath Ales) or other dark ale
- 150g of Barbers 1833 Vintage Reserve Cheddar or other extra mature Cheddar
- 1 free-range egg yolk
- 1 tsp English mustard
- 4 tsp Worchestershire Sauce
- 4 thick slices of home-made bread
- Salt and pepper to taste.
- Turn your grill to high or check that the top oven of the Aga is fiery!
- Melt the butter and stir in the flour, cooking through for about 30 sec to a minute. Add the beer and keep stirring until the mixture is velvety and smooth.
- Add all of the rest of the ingredients.
- Toast the bread and then place on a baking tray. Smother the toast with the cheese sauce and then pop under the grill or into the Aga until the cheese is melted.
- Make yourself a big mug of tea, sit back and enjoy a dish that’s as tasty now as it was 300 years ago with no sign of reboot. Modern life can take a back seat for a while!