Mrs Jiffler and I spent Saturday at the wedding of some friends in Lincolnshire – a lovely, relaxed day in good company.
At the reception we discussed my blog with friends, and one of the table asked whether a review of the wedding breakfast would be appearing on the blog. After giving this some thought on the train home, I’ve decided that it might not be good form to review the food when someone else has paid for it! In any case, my piece of beef was lovely, and I could have knocked back the rather drinkable red all night. Lincolnshire is a good place to eat good British food, on the quiet I reckon it could outdo some more traditional foodie destinations such as Cornwall.
At the dinner table, a friend of mine mentions how my occasional casual blog references to past meals in obscure places amuse her. I’ve just revisited a few old blogs, and I can see how this might come across. Although I wish I could enjoy a sybaritic lifestyle, sampling the finest the world has to offer, that is sadly not the case, and many of my foreign feasts are either as a result of hard work, or have been enjoyed in the rather dull company of consultants and bureaucrats.
Anyhow, it got me thinking not just about great meals in appropriately exotic places (although I’d fly to Greece like a shot for some proper taramasalata if someone gave me a free ticket), but about great things I’ve eaten in unexpected or mundane places.
For example, forget Italy - the best Tiramisu I’ve ever tasted was a homemade effort at Frithville village hall, Lincolnshire. Profiteroles? In the small town of Guisborough in North Yorkshire… I also enjoyed possibly the best ever chilli con carne at the same house… Spag bol in Penysarn, Caesar salad in Beaumaris (both Anglesey) and Pastrami sandwiches in the Norwich student’s union in 1998. Bruschetta in Hemel Hempstead, Chicken Karahi and awesome roti in a stinking backstreet in Manchester, jerk chicken in Brixton, samosas in Leicester, thai fishcakes in Aberdeen…
At the reception we discussed my blog with friends, and one of the table asked whether a review of the wedding breakfast would be appearing on the blog. After giving this some thought on the train home, I’ve decided that it might not be good form to review the food when someone else has paid for it! In any case, my piece of beef was lovely, and I could have knocked back the rather drinkable red all night. Lincolnshire is a good place to eat good British food, on the quiet I reckon it could outdo some more traditional foodie destinations such as Cornwall.
At the dinner table, a friend of mine mentions how my occasional casual blog references to past meals in obscure places amuse her. I’ve just revisited a few old blogs, and I can see how this might come across. Although I wish I could enjoy a sybaritic lifestyle, sampling the finest the world has to offer, that is sadly not the case, and many of my foreign feasts are either as a result of hard work, or have been enjoyed in the rather dull company of consultants and bureaucrats.
Anyhow, it got me thinking not just about great meals in appropriately exotic places (although I’d fly to Greece like a shot for some proper taramasalata if someone gave me a free ticket), but about great things I’ve eaten in unexpected or mundane places.
For example, forget Italy - the best Tiramisu I’ve ever tasted was a homemade effort at Frithville village hall, Lincolnshire. Profiteroles? In the small town of Guisborough in North Yorkshire… I also enjoyed possibly the best ever chilli con carne at the same house… Spag bol in Penysarn, Caesar salad in Beaumaris (both Anglesey) and Pastrami sandwiches in the Norwich student’s union in 1998. Bruschetta in Hemel Hempstead, Chicken Karahi and awesome roti in a stinking backstreet in Manchester, jerk chicken in Brixton, samosas in Leicester, thai fishcakes in Aberdeen…
Very few of these things came from professional kitchens, and were generally the product of creative home cooks who have put a bit of love into their cooking. Unfortunately one doesn’t get a Michelin star for knocking out a killer Tiramisu. Its made me think about how sometimes – rarely - I can put together a meal which is perfect and I can be really proud of, but more often than not my cooking output is simply ‘satisfyingly edible’ with the occasional bin scraper. I might choose a few classic dishes to really perfect, so that they can hold their own next to the Lincolnshire Tiramisu.
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