In my first blog, ‘The F Word’, I pronounced that Kane and I would be relocating to Europe for two years, allowing me to take the reins on some culinary exploration, which I have been dying to embark on for some time. With this in mind, you will understand that I was gravely disappointed when only speckles of blog-worthy material could be drawn from my first five days in London. Although I was blown away by the works of the impressionists at the National Gallery and the photography exhibit at the Tate Modern, the coffee preceding these events was certainly not worth wasting film over. Who knows, perhaps it was my jet-lag...or perhaps the Brits really don’t take much pride in their brew! In any case, it was most disappointing and, might I say, rather unfortunate that Re:hab in Cairns couldn’t vac-pack me a flat-white on skim and pop it in the post.
Food-wise, it was only the home-made salmon and smoked haddock fish cakes at Lord Nelson’s (Great Ormond square) that blew me away. What a treat they were! I am now kicking myself for not whipping out Rick Stein’s Guide to the Food Heroes of Britain, which I lugged all the way from Oz! I have no doubt that it would have provided some juicy clues to the whereabouts of fine British cuisine.
Not to worry! On Saturday, Kane and I travelled two hours north of London, by train, to Deepcar (City of Sheffield, South Yorkshire, England). We are fortunate enough to be staying with Kane’s family friends, Betty and Gordon, in their four-hundred year old cottage, which hosts incredible views to the Wharncliff crags. I’d never heard of the crags until yesterday – you must Bing it! Haha, kidding! Google it. As for Betty and Gordon, they are an absolute hoot! In the most delightful way of course. I would post up a home-movie of their hilarity, however, all you have to do is close your eyes and imagine Hyacinth Bucket and Richard from Keeping up Appearances in 4D! And they assure me that I’m not the first to make this observation! Now, before I go on, I must share a little bit of history. Betty and Kane’s Nanna have been pen pals since eleven years of age. They wrote to each other (pen-to-paper/ Australia-England) for thirty-seven years, before meeting for the first time as married women with children. I have heard so much about Betty and Gordon that they feel like family already.
Last night, Betty served up hearty bowls of what she called Ash (the Sheffield equivalent of a beef and vegetable stew). Now, it must have potatoes to be called Ash, otherwise, it is merely known as a casserole. My friend Duncan tells me that in nearby Lancashire, this would be called a Lancashire hotpot. Now, I don’t mean to send you into a fit of jealousy - but - our Ash was served over traditional Yorkshire Pudding – light and fluffy casings, with a very slight crunch when your teeth first break the golden surface. Gordon assured me that it’s the additional egg which really gets them rising. Can you imagine?? Actual Yorkshire Pud, which you read about as a child, in actual Yorkshire?? Call me unusual if you like – but EXCITEMENT does not even begin to describe my emotional response to this scenario. For an after dinner sweet, Gordon served up gorgeous little English strawberries – nothing like the sour monsters which we sometimes luck-out with at home. Every mouthful was a real treat, sprinkled with sugar and evaporated milk. Gordon must have served us the equivalent to one-whole punnet each! My goodness gracious! If this is what living in England is all about, I’m in it for keeps! Since arriving, Betty and Gordon have exposed me to the quaint English life-style that I have always day dreamt about....surrounded by stone walls, fireplaces, squirrels and blackberries.
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| Blackberries in Derbyshire |
Blackberries still on the bush - Can you believe it!? Today, Whilst visiting the site of the drowned villages of Derwent and Ashopton, at the Ladybower Water Reservoir in Derbyshire, I stumbled across plump, ripe blackberries! I’d never seen a real-life blackberry on a bush before! Had there been a plentiful supply, I would have retrieved a tartan-lined wicker basket from the vehicle to collect the foundations for a pie! All of this happening before a scenic background of heather on the moors; it took my breath away. Suddenly, for the first time since touching down in England, my tummy filled with the kind of butterflies that flutter in response to change...the kind which tell you that you’ve actually ventured away from home. I want to stay. Right here, with the berries and the puds and the heather on the moorland. Although we intend to move on to Italy in a few days/ week/ undefined amount of time, at some point during our time here, we will need to find a place to settle. Perhaps Deepcar, Sheffield, will be the place we call home.
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| Deepcar, Sheffield, South Yorkshire, England. |
