Category: travel

Confiture avec de l’agneau: Chef Richard Guest ou la cuisine anglaise

C’est sur que ‘Jam with Lamb’ ça rime et ça sonne bien. Quand on le traduit, tout à coup on décrit ce que les Français imaginent de la bouffe anglaise: de la viande avec de la confiture. C’est aussi le titre fort à propos d’un livre de cuisine du chef Richard Guest qui célèbre les produits du Sud-Ouest de l’Angleterre suivant les saisons à travers des recettes traditionnelles anglaises et quelques classiques français.

Avec une étoile Michelin qui le suit dans trois restaurants depuis 18 ans, il n’y a aucun doute que Richard Guest est l’un des meilleurs chefs Anglais. C’est aussi un ami à moi, mais on sait que Michelin ne donne pas ses étoiles à qui mieux veut donc si je chante ses louanges, ce n’est pas parce que c’est un ami.

Richard vient d’ouvrir un bistrot dans le Sud-Ouest de l’Angleterre, à Taunton: Augustus. Au Sud de Bristol et au nord d’Exeter, ce n’est pas un endroit à priori évident pour ouvrir un restaurant. Taunton n’est pas une ville particulièrement touristique même si le Sud-Ouest est une destination de vacances bien prisée en Angleterre. Mais Richard a de bonnes raisons de rester où il connait.

La carrière de Guest

Guest a tout d’abord été inspiré par le chef Marco Pierre White. Imaginez un mec aux cheveux longs, cigarette au bec, avec un caractère de cochon (White, pas Guest, il ne fume pas et a les cheveux courts!). A 33 ans White devenait le premier chef anglais et le plus jeune chef à obtenir trois étoiles Michelin.

Le jeune Guest, qui comme White est un type du Nord, -et croyez moi il y a une frontière en Angleterre entre le Nord et le Sud, avait trouvé en White l’inspiration qui le fit partir à Londres, le seul endroit où on pouvait vraiment faire ses marques dans les années 80, Sud ou pas. C’est là que Richard a travaillé avec Jean-Christophe Novelli qui lui appris -entre autres- l’art de goûter et lui a permis de s’exprimer dans sa cuisine. Novelli avait raison de lui faire confiance puisque c’est là que Richard a obtenu sa première étoile Michelin.

 Du Nord au Sud-Ouest en passant par Londres

Mais le chef du Nord a rencontré une belle blonde du Sud-Ouest chez Novelli et en 1999, Richard se retrouvait au Castle Hotel à Taunton, à la tête de son restaurant déjà réputé. Ce qui a plu à chef Guest après toutes ces années à parfaire une cuisine ‘française’ c’est que le patron, Kit Chapman, voulait la même perfection mais avec une cuisine anglaise et les clients ne s’attendaient pas à moins.

De ‘Jam with Lamb’ à Augustus

Ce qui explique comment on se retrouve avec un bouquin de cuisine intitulé ‘Jam with Lamb’. Anglais et fier de l’être, Richard Guest compte sur ses producteurs et leurs excellents produits qu’il transforme en des petits moments de plaisir. Qu’il cuisine pour un patron français, anglais ou comme dans son nouveau restaurant Augustus pour lui même, je n’ai jamais été déçue par la cuisine de Richard. L’assaisonnement est toujours parfait, chose rare, les produits sont locaux, de saison et frais, la présentation superbe et le résultat un vrai plaisir.

Le Sud-Ouest étant une région plus ensoleillée que le reste de la Grande-Bretagne, les fermiers et maraichers nous vendent des produits souvent meilleurs que ce que l’on peut trouver en France, si on sait les trouver. De plus en plus, il ne s’agit plus de copier la France mais de retrouver les races de mouton ou les pommiers qui appartenaient à la campagne environnante et ont disparu grâce à la révolution industrielle, les exigences des supermarchés et les changements d’habitudes des consommateurs.

Depuis quelques années, les Anglais se réveillent de leur longue torpeur. Comme Richard Guest ou le célèbre Heston Blumenthal (qui a d’ailleurs travaillé avec Marco-Pierre White et a maintenant trois étoiles Michelin) les Anglais redécouvrent leurs racines culinaires et même si les meilleurs chefs ont tous plus ou moins fait un ‘stage’ chez des chefs français (ou à influences françaises), ils louent enfin leur propre cuisine, à juste titre.

Célébration de la cuisine Anglaise

Donc ‘Jam with Lamb’ c’est une célébration de la cuisine anglaise. Et oui, ils mangent de la confiture avec de la viande. C’est vrai que dans le Sud-Ouest nous avons une abondance de fruits en été. Les pommes, les groseilles, les fruits du rosiers sont autant de produits qui ne peuvent se garder durant l’hiver que transformés; cidre bien sur, mais également confitures ou gelées. Les Anglais sont forts pour ce genre de ‘conserves’, après tout on a adopté leur marmelade.

Et pas de grimace si vous n’avez pas essayé. Il faut goûter un morceaux d’agneau juste à point avec une bonne gelée de groseilles faite maison. Pas la gelée du supermarché rouge comme de la betterave que je mélangeais enfant avec des carrés Gervais. J’aimais bien quand j’étais gosse mais une gelée maison n’a rien à voir avec. Mais bon, ce n’est pas tout sucré-salé. Par contre à Augustus, c’est tout bon.

Richard Guest et son partenaire maitre d’hôtel Cédric Chirrosel ont ouvert leur restaurant donnant sur une petite cour intérieure au coeur de Taunton avec une terrasse pour les beaux jours (et il y en plus qu’on croit!). Au contraire de ce dont ils avaient l’habitude au restaurant huppé du Castle Hotel où ils travaillaient ensemble, Augustus est simple d’apparence. Confortable et sympa on n’y trouvera pas de nappe blanche, de verres en cristal ou des clients qui chuchotent. C’est avant tout un bistrot dans l’âme, comme le voulait Guest, mais son art de faire, il ne l’a pas laissés sur le pas de la porte. Vous ne le trouverez pas encore dans le guide Michelin, mais croyez moi, Augustus est un restaurant ‘à suivre’.

Vous savez ce qu’il vous reste à faire si vous allez vers Taunton.

www.augustustaunton.co.uk

Richard Guest’s Augustus in Taunton… one to follow

I remember the first time I ate Richard’s food. He’d been Head Chef at the Four Seasons restaurant in Park Lane for Jean-Christophe Novelli and they’d just opened Maison Novelli in Clerkenwell. I’d met Richard socially a couple of times, had never heard of Novelli and had spoken food (pretty rare in those days with a normal English person). I just had to try this funny, approachable Northerner’s food. It was the best I’d eaten in London and totally on a par with what I had enjoyed in France, when my father treated us to Michelin stared restaurants.

For clarity’s sake I must tell you that Richard Guest and his wife Vicky are now friends of mine. So let me stick with some facts: After a YTS apprenticeship in York, Richard’s first kitchen was the Savoy’s in London in 1990, then Novelli’s Four Seasons (Sous-Chef, 93-96, Michelin Star), Maison Novelli (Head Chef, 96-99, Michelin Star, 3 AA rosettes) then Castle Hotel, Taunton (Head Chef, 99-2010, Michelin Star, 3 AA Rosettes). If you don’t already know Richard, that should give you an idea.

I equally enjoyed W8 (another Novelli venture) and was delighted when Richard and Vicky headed for the West Country. The Castle Restaurant did not disappoint as far as the food was concerned. I did find the atmosphere a bit too cold. Whilst I don’t like loud guests when tucking into my main in a posh restaurant, feeling the need to whisper is not conducive to fully appreciate the wonderful fare on my plate. The dining room was just too old fashioned for me. Its recent closure therefore did not come as a surprise. It is understandable that the establishment is concentrating on the Brazz with new chef Raftery. I have no doubt they will do well with another great chef.

So what about Augustus then? 

Richard does fine dining well, his recognition proves it. What he has always loved though is ‘simple’ food that highlights the produce of his great suppliers and changes with the seasons. Whilst he’s never said so, I imagine that when you have an absolute passion for the joy you create, heading a kitchen that feeds dozens of people in the space of three or four hours must take its toll. I always compare chefs to artists. They create inspiring compositions for all the senses. Once on a conveyor belt, the soul gets lost.

In fact, Richard would totally disagree with me. He does not like the “airy-fairy French guys romanticising about food”  to quote his book Jam with Lamb. Well he is a no-nonsense Northerner. I have airy-fairy tendencies, French or otherwise.

My husband and I -and many other friends- have been trying to get Richard and Vicky to join the Hix, Riverside or Wild Garlic of West Dorset and the constant sprouting of good gastro-pubs our area is enjoying. Unfortunately for us but understandably, Richard was keen to work with suppliers and a business partner he knows well and trusts. So he opened Augustus in Taunton with front of house Cédric Chirrosel, former Castle Hotel restaurant manager. It was always going to be called Augustus, after Roald Dahl’s character in Willy Wonka.

The Courtyard on St James Street is a great setting for a bistro. We parked a few steps away, the sun was shining, the outside tables were full, wine was flowing and the atmosphere was positively European. The inside is small, simple, comfortable and welcoming. Cédric is attentive, informative and helpful; Richard is nowhere to be seen, kitchen and small team oblige.

I’m not a food critic so I’ll be brief on food description: a meltingly delicious starter of Goats Cheese croquettes on a crunchy mix of salad and vegetables, a perfectly cooked main of lamb with a just-so creamy potato gratin and a ratatouille that made me think I was in the South of France. I know many people believe that Michelin is a load of rubbish. Having said that, once you have experienced fine dining of a high standard, your brain remembers it. Anything after that can be good, few will be brilliant. It’s about the small details, the subtle tastes that surprise you for being put together yet complement each other.

A few tender yet crunchy baby broad beans were a surprising firm bite in the middle of the soft salad leaves; mixed with goats cheese croquettes, it just worked. It’s about the total attention to detail, perfect seasoning (which I find really hard to achieve myself let alone find in a restaurant), trustworthy suppliers, absolute love and belief in what you create. I’ve gone all airy-fairy again. In his Jam with Lamb book written five years ago, Richard says it’s about the right produce at the right time. We know that’s true.

Richard Guest wanted to open a bistro called Augustus. He just got distracted by a few Michelin stars on the way but Augustus is here and well worth a visit; Taunton is not that far after all…

A French view on town criers

Since moving to West Dorset this Frenchie hears “Oyez! Oyez! Oyez!” at many local events of note (and I must say I couldn’t believe my ears that you should use old French, again).

I assumed that town criers had just never disappeared in England. A bit of research when I posted my photo of David Craner, our local loud voice, proved I was wrong.

Ancient and Honourable

The first thing I came across on the net was the ahgtc (Ancient and Honourable Guild of Town criers). They have a website where I was hoping to find out how many town criers there are and a bit of history.

‘Latest news’ section was not quite what I had in mind. The fact that town criers can rent their loud services to private firms to advertise their wares or events in a theatrical way was not spelt out anywhere that I could find.

Instead, this is what I found:
19th February 2011
John Thomas had died.
8th January 2011
Eric Watsham has died.
And so it continued.

I suppose the Guild is there mainly for their members so to honour their lost friends is fair enough, even admirable. The poem that accompanies the obituaries is very touching. The Guild also claims to help with the marketing of Town Criers but I must say that they do not seem to be doing this in a traditional 21st century way. Then again, what did I expect?

In fact, the most informative website I could find is our own David Craner (for Crewkerne and Beaminster) the first town crier I ever came across. There are 220 town criers in Britain mainly representing towns and cities (although sometimes Lords of the Manor as well).

When I last spoke to David he explained that he hoped to go to France to promote the art of ‘crieur public’. I understand he has been approved by the twinning associations so he is a step closer to getting there. Town criers may have spread William the Conqueror’s laws and news after 1066, they have pretty much disappeared in France.

There is a small revival but they are mainly volunteers in city centres, spreading private love messages, recipes (this is France!) and community events that locals ‘post’ in their box or cage, found in the local convenience store or café. Some have links to tourist offices but unlike in this country, they are not linked to civil events and Councils.

It is interesting that daily newspapers (and literacy) should have been the reason for the disappearance of town criers. A revival in town criers cannot be linked to the drop in sales of newspapers but nonetheless, I can’t help but smile at old fashioned ways coming back to entertain us and local papers struggling to find ways to inform us.

I wonder, should newspapers employ town criers to read excerpts of their news and entice people to buy the papers?

Can you hear it? “Read all about it!”

For a history of town criers, you can visit David Craner’s website:
http://www.davidcranertowncrier.co.uk/History.html

Oyez! Oyez! Oyez!

Voulez vous visiter le Dorset?

If a French persons wants to visit Dorset and speaks English, they’ll be fine when they try and find information on the net. Just about. But what if a French traveller prefers to search for his holiday on the net in French? After all, it’s pretty likely. He may write ‘visiter dorset’ on google.fr. He’ll find this site (Pardon my Franglais) in 5th place before visit-dorset and dorset-newforest.

South East equals South West?
When I searched ‘visiter angleterre dorset’ dorset-newforest came first, tripAdvsior second, South-East Visit England third. I know, non sensical: South-East is not a typing error on my part. Pardon my Franglais comes 8th. Destination Dorset is not on the first page. I didn’t bother with the second page, most Google searchers don’t.

Attitude problem?
To think that Pardon my Franglais has been created for my random ramblings, does not get updated regularly, does not get many hits yet gets views from French people searching for a holiday in Dorset (and how to eat cheese in England) confirms something I already knew. English speaking people have a language attitude problem. I should know, I’ve lived here for over 20 years now.

English, the only language in the world?
If England is finally going to invest time, money and effort into tourism to show the rest of the world what a beautiful country this is (and what an outstanding county Dorset is), it may be time you lovely Brits realised that not everybody speaks English.
You can convince yourself (and many French speaking people) that your language is the first in the world. After all, Americans have done a good job of imposing their cinema even in France or insisting on international meetings begin held in English (how fair would you find them in French?) but that does not mean that they (and you) have succeeded in killing the other main languages altogether.

Who is losing out?
Is it not a shame to miss out on a huge market of French speaking (and Spanish speaking) potential customers? The only time British people speak to me in French is when they’ve had a few drinks. The other thing that often comes up after a few pints is how the British had a great empire (unlike the French of course). Living in the past does not always help the future.

Welcome, bienvenue, willkomen, blablabla
When will tourism professionals realise that languages are an important part of a service like hospitality and tourism? From the web searches of potential clients to the welcome of the staff. How nice is it when you travel and the waiter greets you in English? Do you take that for granted?
I am yet to go to a restaurant in England with my French speaking father and get any help from a waiter in translating a menu for him. I find my dictionary heavy in my handbag and waiting for my phone to connect and give me the answer really frustrating.
When in France, if I have to translate for my husband, there’s a good chance I’ll get some help if I get stuck, sometimes without asking.
When in Morocco, they’ll try in both languages, for good measure.

Food for French thoughts.

How reliable is TripAdvisor?

I read with interest a review for the Wild Garlic restaurant in Beaminster on Trip Advisor from georgeporgepuddingpie. George could be a woman called Georgina but as the ‘reviewer’ did not leave a real name, I’ll assume it is a male George and call him ‘he’ to ponder on the veracity of his claims.

I swear it’s true, or is it?

George claims to be a local who parked behind the restaurant and heard what can only be Mat (Follas, BBC Masterchef winner, who runs the Wild Garlic) swear and bad mouth his staff.

You can’t really park directly behind the Wild Garlic. There is a private parking area but it stands closer to the Pizza place. Was it Mat he heard? Did he really hear anybody swear?

He saw “one of the men in chefs white buying pastry from the Coop”. Did they have Wild Garlic written on their whites? Was this man in whites working for the chippie, the Pizza place or the Chinese? Was he buying a bit of pastry for his wife before the rush of evening service?

Does family man = children’s menu?

To say Mat was a family man, I was shocked not to see a childrens menu“. What did he expect? Fish and chips, sausage and chips or burger and chips?

Of course georgeporgepuddingpie is totally entitled to dislike the Wild Garlic or any other establishment. He can have a problem with Mat and his Kiwi ways -supporting the wrong rugby team and all that. After all, Mat is somewhat famous and we know that celebrity status can bring positive and negative consequences in its wake.

Give the chef a chance

The thing is, if the food was cold, why did our anonymous reviewer not send it back? If the mash was unseasoned, did he tell the chef? Why do English people often sit there, say nothing and pay the bill? Why do they not give the business a chance to make amends when there is a problem with the product or the service?

To write an anonymous review on Trip Advisor about a local restaurant is not only cowardly, it sends a very negative message to the world about the local town. If we’ve eaten there, said our bit to the owner and nothing’s changed, then yes, we should review what we thought was a problem for all to see. I bet georgeporgepuddingpie does not run a B&B or a shop.

Are you being serious?

Thankfully for the Wild Garlic, Beaminster and the area, any foodie reading georgeporgepuddingpie’s review is unlikely to take it seriously. As with many Trip Advisor’s reviews with titles like “DISGUSTING !!!” and only one entry from the ‘reviewer’, it doesn’t take much imagination to read between the lines: “I have a hidden agenda”. Whatever that may be.

User generated content websites and personal grudges

The problem is, not everybody knows how to use a ‘user-generated content website’. If there is only one review and no profile, how do you know that the reviewer likes the same things you do? All the same, these often personal grudges are there for all to see, leaving a doubt in the reader’s mind.

The consequences can be very negative for a business; which is exactly what these ‘reviewers’ are looking for. I cannot help but wonder whether the Georges of this world run a business themselves or are always Perfect. Should have called himself Peter.

Is this the way forward for English hotel rating?

There are talks at the moment that the government is thinking about getting rid of the star rating from Visit Britain. The likes of TripAdvisor could replace this costly system.

This little example should be food for thought.

Will West Dorset get superfast Broadband?

Have you heard from “Race to Infinity”? Sounds a bit Toy Story but is it child’s play? If you think your broadband connection is slower than what you’re actually paying for, read on because if Beaminster and Bridport’s votes are anything to go by, West Dorset is not even in the race. Yet.

BT are conducting a survey for the establishment of their superfast fibre optic Broadband within the UK called Infinity Services. Have we got a chance in West Dorset to even get what some of us already pay for but are not getting: a fast connection?

Well… five areas of the UK (yes 5) with the largest percentage of votes by 31st December 2010 will win the chance to be the lucky BT’s Infinity race winners. ‘Chance to win’ never guarantees anything in my books but lack of trying certainly guarantees failure.

So, before you go and vote please tell all your friends, your colleagues, your neighbours, your parents and whatever you do please don’t forget your silver surfer friends. We do live in West Dorset after all. Only 8 people have voted for Beaminster out of 1,800, Bridport is marginally better with 38 votes out of 8,110 (on Monday 25 October 2010).

Our neighbours Weymouth will probably be on fast track mode thanks to the Olympics but let’s face it, Beaminster, Bridport or Sherborne may well be in West Dorset too, it doesn’t mean we’ll have any of that legacy. Go on, it takes a minute, does not cost a penny and it’s nice to be full of hope once in a while…

To Infinity and Beyond? Go:

http://www.racetoinfinity.bt.com/

 

Fungi foray frolic in West Dorset

A fungal foray with John Wright is not mushroom hunting as I know it. Childhood memories of my mother’s picnics and my father whistling to keep hunters away are miles from a day at the Kingcombe Centre in West Dorset.

There are similarities of course. Baskets, knifes, eyes to the ground, a reassuring smell of decay when the nose gets closer to the undergrowth and that warm feeling of joy when a mushroom is found. Or a toadstool.

The point of taking part in a foray with Mr Mushroom himself is to learn. There were a few newbies like me and a few reoffenders who clearly thought it was worth re-foraging with Mr Wright. The world of fungi is a vast underground world where the initiated want to learn more and the foodies don’t want to go home empty handed.

Our foray was at the Kingcombe Centre in West Dorset, part of a Nature Reserve where the fields have never seen fertiliser, where the preservation of our local ecosystem is not a fashion. A very special place not just for the lucky visitors but also for the underworld. The 75 different types of fungi we found in about four hours should prove my point. Only one do I uncompromisingly know, a very exciting one at that, a chanterelle.

Our first lucky find in the hedge outside Kingcombe Centre was tall, thick stemmed, white with a greenish cap. It brought a big smile to John’s face as he dug it from the ground, bag at the base and all. He proudly showed the group and introduced us to the one mushroom you should avoid at all costs: The Death Cap. Need I say more. Not as pretty as its red and white cousin that fairies are keen on but more dangerous.

Of the remaining 73, I had come across a few but could sadly name none fully. English name or latin name. A beautifully fat boletus find was quite exciting. Being red though, it was totally the wrong colour for supper but perfect for a photo opportunity. John obliged by holding it up against the cloudless blue sky.

I still don’t know the difference between a toadstool and a mushroom. I might be the proud owner of a signed copy of the River Cottage Handbook No. 1 (John commented that he was honoured to sign his ‘Mushrooms’ book for a Française, cheeky charmer) but to me, they’re still all Champignons. All 4,000 species that you can find in Britain.

I learnt lots of interesting facts about fungi. For a start, they are the reproductive organ of a world that lives underground. From there, inevitable sexual innuendoes follow. How about the nipples on the magic ones that can take you to seventh heaven or leave you sorely disappointed and a carefully pronounced volva at the base of the hard stem of the Amanita phalloides. I’ll leave it at that, not my forte, I was brought up by a Catholic mother who was master picnic organiser but stayed away from such language. John on the the hand was far more masterful with his words, let alone knowledge, and had us giggling throughout the day.

A few titbits I gathered were of far greater interest. The reason mushrooms are often found at the edge of a wood or near a car park is not, as I thought, because mushrooms need a bit of sunshine to warm their caps but because the organism that lives under the ground is suddenly worried that the environment it is thriving in is running out. Time to reproduce and out come the fruits for spores -babies in the making- to be scattered, and for animals to pick, munch or nibble.

Of far more interest for my stomach is that the mushrooms my family still hunt for, once the first rains have blessed the sunny South of France and its pine and oak forests, can be found in this country. The Saffron Milkcap. For once, the clue is in the Latin name: Lactarius deliciosus. I found one years ago, somewhere in the South West and John confirmed you can find them in this country. I wasn’t dreaming after all.

Should I tell you where? If a delicious mushroom is to be found, should its location be shared? Well, here is one thing the French and the English have in common. My Dorset farmer friend and his father don’t share their secrets for Field Mushrooms hotspots with each other. My family don’t divulge their pine forest autumn picnic locations to all and sundry.

It looks like I will be spending the next few years hunting in pine and oak woods of Dorset to leave my children our own little mushroom secrets. I’ll be thanking John for renewing my love of the forest undergrowth, his little book in my basket, keeping away from beautiful white tall mushrooms with a volva.

John Wright shows off the Death Cap:

John Wright's Death Cap

Photogenic Boletus:

Beautiful boletus

Kingcombe Centre courses:

http://www.kingcombe.org/courses/intro.aspx

Freak storm or freak planning?

I spoke to my father this morning who lives on the outskirts of Toulon in the Var to hear his take on the freak storms that happened a couple of days ago in the South of France. He was the last person to be able to use the D29 before they closed it. Twenty people have died and another dozen are still reported missing. The Nationale 7 is still closed. Trains are still unable to travel. There are still some 1,000 people in St Tropez with no electricity. I cannot believe I am talking about home.

My first thought when I read about this yesterday was how dreadful that this disaster happened not only in my country but so near to my home. I feel devastated for the people who have lost a member of their family. I know about these freak storms. Some twenty years ago, I was caught on the motorway in a similar one and just had to stop the car. I could not see any further than the middle of the bonnet of my car.

I asked my father if this one was worse than normal. It was a particularly vicious storm. Nevertheless, I have to wonder had this dreadful freak of nature happened only twenty five years ago, would the outcome been the same?

When I left the Var twenty years ago, there were still green spaces in between houses and buildings, we had supermarkets rather city like shopping affairs with warehouse type shops that sell everything and anything. Our flood plains have been filled by concrete and tarmac. Our towns have grown so much I cannot recognise them when I go back.

I am no scientist nor planner. Hindsight is a wonderful thing. Having said that, where is water going to go when the proportion between concrete, tarmac and tiled gardens has outweighed fields and gardens? It stands to reason that motorways will become torrents. If water cannot go down into the ground, it will follow whatever it falls on to the next available bit of earth. In some of our towns, it’s a long way away.

I do hope other countries learn from that and that my compatriots’ lives have not been lost in vain.

The inn down the lane

From nouvelle cuisine to a country pub down a tarmac lane so remote, it has grass growing on it. The sun is shining so we decide to drive around West Dorset lanes just for the sake of the views and find the Three Horseshoes Inn just around lunch time.

Pub with rooms. The menu is more gastro than old boys’ local and they’ve run out of Bath chaps and Hooke Farm trout. No matter, I fancy a Blue Vinney ploughman and the husband goes for battered cod with triple cooked chips. Yep, good ol’ fish and chips for lunch. Takes all sorts.

We can hear children as we sit down on the terrace with wide green views. You’d think they are just behind the wall, a perfect demonstration of how sound works in amphitheatre. A few minutes later, the school below starts work again for the afternoon so the only sounds left are the birds, the wind in the parasols and a distant dog listening to himself. Otherwise you’d wonder whether there’s much life around.

When my square wooden platter arrives I pull a face. There’s a heap of thin and pretty greenery on the edge and I am wondering how to eat this without half of it ending up on the floor. It looks like young sweet pea shoots and tastes delicious. Brain figures that fingers are de rigueur. If the man in the nice restaurant in France (many years back) thought it was OK for me to eat with my fingers because chefs don’t like plates coming back with food, then why not?

Apart from the juicy shoots, there was a large chunk of blue veined Dorset delight, some very light and airy home made bread and two chutneys. The first was classically vinegary with soft fruits -no crunchy out of a jar sharp stuff here-  the other more of a compote that has not reached mushy state so the soft bits of fruits have a gentle texture. This one would have probably complimented a Farmhouse Cheddar better, Blue Vinney being a bit stronger it overtook the palate (ok, killed the fruits if you prefer).

The husband enjoyed his triple cooked chips and battered cod. The cod portion was large enough and the batter was a bit on the heavy side but the chips were deemed delicious. There is a price to pay for triple cooked chips at lunchtime and I can hear the husband snoozing. You can’t beat a Ploughman in a country pub. And as country pubs go, this one sure has the location, a great terrace with half a dozen tables, the pretty church next door and new owners.

Our terrace neighbours said: “Very pretty but I wouldn’t want to live here; silly little roads”. Fair enough, this is a place you come to because you like being remote. No marquee, no sea views, just an inn and a village. The Jurassic Coast may be down the lane, it may as well be abroad. That’s why I liked the place.

Ploughman: £7

Battered cod + triple cooked chips: £11

Three Horseshoes Inn, Powerstock