The weather has turned. From an outstanding stretch of fine weather we are now rather dreich. In fact, we believe that the Lake District of England is always rainy--at least, we’ve never seen it otherwise. The forecast is for light showers, but the showers come in sheets. All throughout Scotland and England we hear two comments. First, if you can see (Ailsa Craig, The Berwick Law, the ben, Goatfell, the Cairngorms, Nevis, the Ochills, the fells, or in the Lake District the house across the street) it’s about to rain; but if you can’t see (Ailsa Craig, the Berwick Law, the ben, Goatfell, the Cairngorms, Nevis, the Ochills, the fells, or in the Lake District the house across the street) it is raining. The second comment is if you don’t like the weather wait (five, ten, fifteen, twenty minutes, or in the Lake District three days) and it will change. We visited Hill Top House, Beatrix Potter’s home in Near Sawrey, and there was no place to park, the waiting line to get in was a hundred yards of dueling umbrellas, and the locals were saying, “Pleasant weather, I say.” The Scots would at least complain about the weather then find the nearest pub with football on the tele. The English are indeed rather stoic.
If the weather isn’t the best on this trip, what about the food? Mealtimes have been interesting. When we arrived at Merlindale B&B, where we are family, we discovered we’d walked into diet central. John and Jacky were on a protein rich, no fat, no carb, no sugar diet. Since there is almost no fat free food available in Scotland even at the larger grocery outlets, Jacky has had to work without much commercial help. To Jacky’s credit I will say that she has made limited food choice as tasty as possible, but after two weeks Anne and I were craving fat. We suggested that we’d eat out one night, ostensibly for our writing. Jacky saw through the ruse and asked if we felt we needed real food. We had to admit that we were feeling a tad deprived. “Good,” she said, “So are we. Let’s get take-away.” That night we gorged on battered fried fish and chips and all manner of decadent Chinese fare, including battered fried pineapple for dessert. At weigh-in the next day Jacky had still lost significantly.
While traveling we’ve mostly eaten either pub food (decent and sustaining) or Italian where we split a small pizza and a main course. The most unusual food we’ve eaten on this trip, though, was “Hotbed Soup” at Acorn Bank Gardens near Penrith, England. When Anne asked the catering manager at the garden what “Hotbed Soup” was we found out that it was lettuce and herb soup and that the lettuce had been grown on a bed of straw and compost that gets very warm, thus a “hotbed.” I can’t describe what lettuce soup tastes like except to say it was silky, delicious, and absolutely full of flavor, but completely devoid of calories. I don’t think we’ll ever see it on another menu.
Hotbed Soup can only be matched by an eating adventure from last fall’s trip to Scotland. On our way to the Isle of Skye we stayed in the west coast village of Gairloch with its fun and lovely nine-hole course. For dinner the Gairloch Hotel was suggested by our B&B hosts as a good bet for fresh seafood. The location of the hotel dining room couldn’t have been better as it looked out onto Gairloch Bay. The menu overflowed with interesting seafood choices, but what stood out was the special Seafood Platter for about $22. I thought that was a reasonable price for what was advertised as a “large platter of fresh local seafood.” “I’ll have that,” I said to the waitress as she took our order. A short while later she came out with a turkey platter piled high with nine different types of seafood and four salads: four langostines, three types of crab, mussels, clams, squid, salmon, haddock, another white fish I didn’t recognize, and herring. For salads there were two slaws, green, and again something I didn’t recognize. The whole restaurant gasped in unison as she laid out my feast. One gentleman commented, “No sweet for you until you clean your plate.” I didn’t even come close, although I put a healthy dent in the fish dishes. Later the manager apologized because the waitress hadn’t told me the platter is usually for two or more to share.
I’ll end this entry with a story from the food chapter in the soon to be published Ten Years of Travel in Scotland, Ireland, England and Wales.
Deep Fried What?
Fish and chips is the staple Scottish fast food and chippies (fish & chip shops) are all over the place. Their menu of fried delights isn’t limited to haddock and cod, either. You’d be surprised what you can find on a chippie menu. Sausages of various kinds are prevalent. Deep fried Mars bars are popular--I’ve tried one and it is so rich and sinful, but it is delicious. Not all things, though, are meant to be deep fried, as we found out one evening in Anstruther on Fife’s Firth of Tay coast.
After golf at Crail Balcombie Links Anne and I were looking forward to trying out the Anstruther Fish Bar, reputed to be the best fish and chip shop in Scotland. On this Friday night we had difficulty finding a parking spot along the harbour, but eventually got parked. We could tell the Anstruther Fish Bar by the line of patrons extending out the door and along the store front. The Anstruther Fish Bar has enough space inside for about 20 to sit, and one line serves those eating in and one serves those taking away. We asked and found out that the wait would be about two hours for eating in or over an hour for take away. That was too long for us. We wandered down toward where we’d parked; there was another chippie down there.
There wasn’t much of a line at this chip shop (that should have been a clue). We ordered one order of haddock and chips and one order of an item on the menu that caught my attention, deep fried pizza. In a couple of minutes we had our orders and went out to the harbour-side picnic table in front to eat our meals. There was nothing especially good about the fish and chips, but the deep fried cheese pizza slice we had was spectacularly awful! Imagine a slice of greasy thick crust oily cheese pizza, dipped in heavy batter, and then dropped in the deep fat fryer until it finally floats to the surface. It is then scoped up with tongs, shaken to remove 10% of the clinging fat, slid into a paper box, and served. I have no idea who was the first to try the concoction, or who thought of selling it, but whomever it was deserves to spend eternity in culinary Hades. A bite or two each was more than enough to turn our stomachs.
On another visit we did make it back to Anstruther Fish Bar and it is as good as its wall of awards attest. Oh, by the way, the menu there doesn’t include deep fried pizza.
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