Idyllic River Cottage Veggie Patch

The finale of our trip was lunch at River Cottage HQ. We’ve been to River Cottage for a fantastic day of mushroom foraging in the past as well as to their Autumn festival. So we were keen to introduce Rad of squirrel and hare fame to the delights of Hugh’s rural utopia.

We were given a fascinating tour of the kitchen garden by a charming Chris Evans lookalike who had lots of ingenious suggestions such as:



Grown your seedlings, cress and other micro herbs in guttering. It seems to work brilliantly and is a piece of cake to do.



Try braising the stems of thistles which apparently are delicious.





Use tyres to create unusual containers that are ideal for growing things like potatoes in. The black rubber absorbs the sunshine and therefore keeps the soil warm. Also when it come to harvesting you can just remove a layer of tyres to get to the next level.



Try growing your tomatoes and potatoes in inside out plastic compost bags. It’s a great way of recycling, otherwise wasteful plastic bags.





Rainbow chard looked stunning.



As did the deep red, and slightly seductive, stems of this plant.

The best advice was about how to plan your kitchen garden / allotment. All too often we get a bit overexcited and dive in withouth thinking. We plant rows and rows of potatoes and acres of tomatoes both of which you can buy in the shops. It’s much better to find some interesting varieties of vegetables you love and can’t find in the shops or are expensive, or need to be eaten as soon as they are harvested and concentrate on them. Things like asparagus, raspberries, sweet-corn, squashes and artichokes spring to mind. It’s also well worth developing a strong herb garden and think about planting flowers such as nasturtium which not only taste great in salads but also attract the bugs and therefore save your prize vegetables from getting nailed.

Our tour finished with a casual lunch for 50 in their converted barn. Canapes of rabbit in a light jelly and smoked mackerel pate on a slice of cucumber were deliciously simple and comforting.





And don’t tell Hugh, but we may have nibbled on some of his prize peas as well…



Our main course of uber-local lamb cooked two ways was pretty special too. The shoulder was slow cooked for about a year and half with enough Middle-Eastern spices to deplete a well stocked souk.



Whilst the leg was flash roasted and served beautifully pink. Some slow cooked tomatoes helped to marry the two styles of lamb together, like a squirt of ketchup does with BBQ’d meat…



A slice of cake with fresh English fruit and stiff nutty cream brought our magical meal and adventure around the South West to a memorable close and sent us home wishing we could stay forever at River Cottage.

This is part of our trip around the South West.

Camel Vineyard Day Trip

Throughout our trip to the South West we saw fliers for Camel Valley vineyard. So on one of the less sunny days we embarked on the forlorn drive over Bodmin Moor and over to the Camel Valley, which is only a short hop from Padstow and the gastronomic wonders of Rick Stein and perhaps more interestingly, Margots.



The Camel Valley Vineyard has become increasingly well known and respected for their sparkling white and rose wines as well as for their fresh and not quite ripe whites. Given that these are just the sorts of wines Cowie loves to guzzle it made for an entertaining trip.

We picnicked by the Camel River before our tour, nestling in amongst the nettles and undergrowth next to a charming bridge with nothing but the trickle of water to distract us from our cured meats and salad. If it had been a bit warmer you could have convinced me I was in the Dordogne.

We were given a tour by Sam who is the son of Bob Lindo who owns the vineyard. They planted their first 8,000 vines 20 years ago and have been vanguards of the English wine movement ever since. They grown a mixture of grapes which seem not only tolerant of chilly English conditions but actually well suited. Given that the vineyard is not enormous, their main concern is one of volume. Their wine, apparently, tastes the same from year to year, but the grape yield tends to vary significantly depending broadly on how warm the summer is.



Because the climate isn’t warm enough for the grapes to ripen fully (much like Champagne) the wine tends to express the tart flavours of the English countryside such as elderflower, gooseberry, raspberry and a whole bunch of other limey-green, refreshing flavours.



We sipped our glasses of award winning wines on the balcony overlooking their vineyards and down the valley to Padstow. The Bacchus was like drinking a green fruit sorbet whilst the pink sparkler was beautifully rosey on the eye and better than any of the usual supermarket contenders from Champagne. We’ll be looking out for their wines in the future and can recommend a visit to anyone with an interest in seeing the embryonic first steps of English wine into the mainstream.

If your looking for other things to do on wet or gloomy days when your exploring Devon and Cornwall places then we’ve been recommended other excursions such as Sharpham Vineyards, Ticklemore cheese and a trip to the Helford Oyster beds isn’t a bad shout either.

This is part of a series about our trip around the South West.

King's Arms in Strete, Devon

And so to a pub called the King’s Arms in a village, next to Slapton Sands, called Strete. Meandering along this stretch of coast is like leafing through my lever arch file from my pre-GCSE geography lessons. Spits, spurs, tombolas and stacks whizzed past. I’d never really thought about these features as being anything more than just diagrams! And now I see what all the fuss is about. The scenery was breathtaking.

Our BnB, proudly displaying its Silver Award like a goodie twoshoes school boy wears his prefect badge, was a delight. It was hard to believe that our room was actually the loft on top of a garage. The view, overlooking this sensational stretch of coast, was awesome. Cows sloped past our balcony as if they had been told to frame our view.



We dashed down to the headland to soak in the remnants of the day’s sunshine and found ourselves lost for words by the beauty that surrounded us. We nestled down in the sheep grazed grass overlooking the twinkling bay and opened a bottle of chilled white wine, hit play on itunes and felt all the stresses of the world dissolve. Cheesy as it sounds, it was one of life’s perfect moments.







We floated along to the King’s Arms in a blissful trance that didn’t disappear for the whole meal. The site of Diana Henry’s book on the side was a subtle indication that we were in for a memorable meal.



Cowie’s fish soup was deep, textured and gutsy. As masculine as the Gurnard’s Head version had been feminine. It was the first of many confirmations that the King’s Head has a wizzard's touch with fish.



My herring roe looked horrific. Like small grey calves tounges or ash coloured giant snails. They’d not only fallen out of the ugly tree but clattered into every branch and twig on the way down. And then been snotted on. However, they were as ugly as they were delicious. They swam around in garlic, parsley and lemon butter which oozed out of my lightly charred toast. Dare I say they are they best thing I’ve eaten this year?



Cowie’s skate with brown caper butter was everything that Sam’s wasn’t. It was perfectly cooked allowing Cowie to tease strands of flesh of like a child dissecting a cheese straw. The butter had been treated perfectly by a kitchen that could knock this dish out in its sleep.



My lemon sole in a lime butter was quite unusual. The skin was gently charred and the flesh was perfectly moist. The sauce balanced the acidity of the lime with a touch of syrupy sweetness. I had worried the cooked lime may have become bitter, as it often does, but it had been handled by a pro and added late in the cooking.



We swooned throughout and left on the same cloud that carried us in singing the praises of such a first rate pub. It deserves all the praise it gets. Just don’t listen to a word of the drivel that the gaunt lady next to us was spewing about the lighting and the décor. When the food’s this good it’s worth travelling a long way for.



On our walk home we stumbled across the Laughing Monk which was alive with gregarious diners. If you’re in Strete for two days, it might be worth checking out.



This is part of a series about our trip around the South West.

Riverford Farm, Kitley, Nr. Plymouth, Devon

My tummy was grumbling. I was in a bad mood. (The two are rarely unlinked). The rain was saturating the whole of Devon with the view to the North giving me nightmares that the Baskerville’s psychopathic guard dog might attack us. As we zoomed past Plymouth, on our way to Salcombe from Fowey, I secretly prayed for a decent lunch. Moments later, out of the dismal gloom, emerged an outpost of Riverford Organcs. Look no further than this for proof of the existence of a greater being.

We’ve been to the Riverford Organics HQ before now and had a quite brilliant day out. The food was all fresh, organic, vibrant and very memorable. It was an experience that opened my mind to the amazing things you can do with vegetables. It made me realize that they needn’t be an afterthought. If you can get your hands on their cookery book, you won't go far wrong either.

Walking into their garden centre-esque shed we were bowled over that such an unassuming façade could be home to such a gourmet wonderland. They’ve got a butcher, cheesemonger, deli, bakery, café and an array of interesting wines on top of the produce that is sourced from their farm.

Overwhelmed by choice, I pointed at a stuffed pepper and a frittata to keep my increasingly noisy stomach quiet. The pepper was sweet and smoky and filled with a very mild lamb korma mixed through with rice and raisins. It was utterly delicious and has now found its way onto my “will cook for dinner” short-list.



The frittata wasn’t such an enormous success. In contrast with the stuffed pepper, it was very bland. Some aggressive seasoning helped. I shouldn’t have asked for it cold… but then again I have an aversion to micro-waved egg dishes! I should have chosen something more manly, such as one of their incredible pork pies, scotch eggs or something on a slice of toasted sourdough. Or maybe even their Devon rarebit that's made with cider instead of beer.



Next time we’re in the area we’re going to build a pit stop here into our plan. I’m already dreaming of tucking into one of their fully loaded breakfasts whilst reading all the papers and then picking up some top notch provisions to add some fun to our campsite cooking.

They say their aim is “to create a vibrant, informative, hassle-free, fresh local food emporium” and they’ve certainly managed that! If only every town had one.

Riverford Farm Shop - Kitley
Kitley
Yealmpton,
Devon
PL8 2LT

This is part of a series about our trip around the South West.

Sam's and Fowey

Fowey is a stunning seaside town, dedicated almost entirely to boats. Chaps in thick sweaters, boys in sailing caps and squawky seagulls compete for attention, whilst cars squeeze through streets so tight you’re surprised when they don’t all get stuck.

Our camp site was on the east side of the estuary and as luck would have it, Cowie’s car turned out to not be amphibious, so we soon became the ferryman’s favourite customers as we shuttled between tent and food.



We ate extremely well in Fowey, thanks to everyone’s suggestions. We had a lovely, sunny lunch of crab and sardines at Food for Thought in the main square, waited on by a Hungarian staff. It was perfect for our needs, but we’re pleased we went for lunch rather than dinner.

Having failed to get a table at Nathan Outlaw’s star spangled restaurant we had to make alterative plans. Our second option was to dine at The Old Quay but after a chat with their ex-fish supplier and a glimpse of their, rather expensive, menu we decided not to go. With its terrace overlooking the estuary, The Old Quay would make a great spot for fruit de mer as their sun goes down or crab salad at lunch time perhaps. But with the sun already down it would have been silly to pay the premium for a view and not see it. We also looked at The Other Place which seemed good on the website, but less enticing in real life. And had a great tea stop in a hippy café called Pinky Murphy's watching cars holding their tummies in as the teetered through the cramped streets.





Having assessed all our options, we landed up going to Sams. Of all the restaurants we visited on our trip, it had by far the most atmosphere. We were greeted with a barrage of energy and off beat humour reminding us of a combination of School of Rock, True Romance and Empire Records. The format is certainly working for them. We looked at the menu boards, placed our order with one of the three Sams and then joined the queuing masses upstairs in the bar.



An hour or so of drinking with some long lost friends and our table was ready. Apparently, in yesteryear, the pre dinner drinking took place on the street outside rather than in the slightly cramped bar upstairs which would have been a lot more fun. Rumour has it, the pre dinner boozing is designed to get everyone in a good mood so they don’t think too hard about the food. A tried and tested technique and a major reason for American restaurants all falling apart in the dry years.

We started with an enormous portion of stunningly crispy and juicy red mullet tempura that had us purring with pleasure. Thumbs up.



So far so good. We were nicely sozzled and beguiled by our starter. Then our distractingly attractive waitress started to work her magic as she brought me a steak knife for my skate, before realising that she’d muddled up her letters. When the skate arrived, I almost asked for the steak instead…

It was very tasty and ample, but let down by being overcooked and swimming in an estuary of caper butter. As much as I like chips, something less deep fried would have been a welcome foil for the grease on the plate. Unless of course they thought I was having steak and were hedging their bets.



Cowie’s sea bass was a mirror of my dish. An unattractive assortment of sea bass fillets jostled for position with a sprouting bean salad. Neither main course allowed the fish to be the star of the show as the red mullet had been with our starter. Which was a shame.



We feel bad criticising the food, which was enthusiastically off-key, because we had a really fun evening. Much like being at a karaoke bar or a mate’s gig. Other than a great starter and an epic soundtrack our highlight was watching our waitress spin from mini crisis to full on diplomatic row, but all the while admired and cheered on by her adoring bosses. We'll definitely come back in search of their bouillabaisse or for some lobster and chips next time we're in Fowey.

Our 1 mile trip home took around an hour as we had to drive all the way around the estuary because the ferry stops at a very leisurely hour. Silly us for expecting it to run late. Despite the messy main courses we loved Sam’s because it was simply great fun. It’s food as entertainment rather than being pretentious, fiddly and quiet. If you’re in the Fowey area and want to have a laugh with some decent food to soak up the booze, coupled with amusing service then Sam’s won’t let you down. If they could just replicate the brilliance of the red mullet tempura then it would be a belter…

This is part of a series about our trip around the South West.

Portloe, St. Mawes and The Ship Inn

Our journey from The Gurnard’s Head in Zennor took us through Penzance, past St. Michaels’s Mount and the oyster beds of Helford (where apparently there's a great camp site with a clay pizza oven called Gear Farm) and on to Flushings where we caught the tail end of a regatta and the start of a fete. Patches of blue sky and ribbons of bunting seemed to greet us wherever we went.

We landed up in a farmhouse BnB between Truro and St. Mawes in the most undulating and rugged Cornish scenery you can imagine. Hills didn’t roll, they tumbled; grass wasn’t green, it was emerald. As we arrived at Tregonan Farm we could barely believe we had found it. The driveway was a mile long, down a valley, over a stream and walled in by steep hedges. The tarmac had long worn away leaving a “road” more rutted than a winter ewe.

The farmhouse looked idyllic from the outside, as it did on the website. When our utterly charming host welcomed us in, we couldn’t help but sigh when we were shown to our browny-beige room. It was the least romantic bedroom you can imagine. The interior design equivalent of granny pants held up with a chastity belt. The dated look and rickety fittings were a master stroke in ensuring that amorous guests don’t keep everyone up all night!

We pottered downstairs and were greeted by tea and warm scones that had just emerged from the AGA. It made me wonder whether they had a camera at the bottom of the drive which alerted them when a guest was arriving in order for them to put the scones in the oven… There can be few more enchanting things than fresh scones, home made gooseberry jam, clotted cream and thoughtful hospitality. Full marks.





Prompted by their user-generated restaurant and pub guide we drove down to the stunning fishing harbour of St. Mawes. We loved the quiet atmosphere and sight of boats bobbing about as if they were listening to one of Will Young’s more mellow ballads. But St. Mawes is devoid of a decent pub, with the Rising Sun doing only a half decent job of imitating one. It’s crying out for someone with some vision to do create a cracking fish focussed pub.

So we drove on to Portloe where we found The Ship Inn, which was so full of people they were spilling out all over the nearly vertical street outside. It was abuzz with locals, visitors, old sea-dogs and boozehounds adding character at the bar.

A perfectly grilled whole plaice with lemon butter washed down with a magical pint of Tinners was just what I wanted. Nothing fancy. Light. Spot on. Cowie’s prawn cocktail was straight out of Simon Hopkinson’s world. And why not?

We walked off our light supper and stood looking out to sea feeling refreshed, inspired, liberated and eager to return. When we can afford it, we might even indulge in a trip to the Lugger, which looks like a very smart place for a romantic get away.

Well done Tregonan and Portloe. Timeless, British hospitality at its most genuine. Why can’t other places manage this? It really isn’t hard.

Part of a series of posts about our trip around the South West.

A Perfect Lunch at The Gurnard’s Head, Zennor

As we left St. Ives and headed west towards Zennor, the sun emerged from behind some sulky grey clouds and bathed us in warmth and optimism. I never thought we’d ever get to visit The Gurnard’s Head, which stands out in Diana Henry’s books as being one of the best gastro pubs in the country, but also the most remote.

After wiggling along the “Top Gear testing-esque” road we stumbled across the image we’d seen in books and on websites many times before. The iconic image of The Gurard’s Head Hotel with blue sky above and brown cows in front. I can’t think of a more welcoming sight.





The pub is renowned for its top notch food and relaxed but stylish atmosphere. A collection of friendly paintings adorned the walls evoking a feeling of being in a successful friend’s living room. Groups of walkers, families young and old congregated around plain tables and basked in comfy chairs. A toddler spent the whole time re-arranging the library and doing sprint starts towards the kitchen. Cookery books were strewn around along with guides to the local area and switched on staff never missed a beat.



We shared a perfect, deep-crimson, bowl of fish soup which came with a fully leaded rouille and some crusty bread. At the last moment they grate some orange zest on top to give it an extra lift. This put the fish soup from The Anchor at Walberswick to shame and is a contender for “best fish soup EVER” in the words of Comic Book man from The Simpsons.



A fillet of grey mullet, served with aioli and squished new potatoes and bursting tomatoes was divine. The delicate skin was crisp, but not burnt. The supernova-white, flesh teased apart and wasn’t muddy. Spot on.



Cowie’s sea bass with samphire, new potatoes and salsa verde was equally as good. There was nothing pretentious or flash about either dish. But neither could have been bettered.

This was without question our best lunch of our trip - and quite possibly my favourite since the Paunch began. It was so good, we are going to find their sister pub in Wales, called The Felin Fach Griffin Inn, which AA Gill once described as “Exceptional anywhere in Europe - in Wales, it was as damn near miraculous as the Angel of Mons".

We wish we could have stayed all day, and then tucked into supper. But alas, we had to move on. But isn’t it great when you leave somewhere wanting more?



This is part of a series of posts about our foodie odyssey around the South West.

Porthminster Beach Café & St. Ives

Our odyssey around the South West of England started in St. Ives with the rain screaming down and the forecast looking gloomier than Eeyeore at a funeral, which serves us right for having the audacity to spend our summer holiday in the UK and to expect sunshine! Spurred on by a break in the clouds Cowie and I went for an evening jog in order to work up a serious appetite and get a feel for the local area. Given that I only had 2 pairs of trousers for the trip and both were a touch snug, regular jogs to keep some of the impending weight off seemed like a good pre-emptive policy.

A combination of sheer tiredness, rain and a lengthy walk led to us driving from our base at the Atlantic Hotel to Porthminster Beach. Sadly, as we had been warned, parking proved to be more difficult than getting a seat at rush hour on the Northern Line. For 30 minutes we explored alternative parking options, including such no-gos as a retirement home and cemetary, before heading back to our hotel and asking for a taxi. Several phone calls to cab companies later left us stranded with a 50 minute wait for the next cab! So we made another attempt at parking and got lucky, over an hour after we had started!

We arrived at the Porthminster Beach Cafe in a flap, with the rain teeming down to a charming welcome and a prime table overlooking the beach. If the weather had been better it would have been the best view from a restaurant table in the country.

A glass of sparkling raspberry Champagney stuff from Polgoon in Cornwall put us in the holiday spirit and turned the gloom outside into a sparkling, pink glow, just like our fizz. (It was a product we saw time and again around the region and is on the menu at the National Café.) Children’s crab buckets were filled with ice and used to chill the wine.

The menu was exhilaratingly charged with fresh ideas from countries far, far away but based on the fruits of Cornwall. Cowie’s scallops with cauliflower puree, bacon, spiced nuts and a warm grape and truffle jelly was stunning to look at and almost as good to eat. Some more seasoning and this would have been worthy of being exhibited as a multi sensory installation at the Tate down the road.



My crispy squid with citrus white miso, black spices and crispy shallots was magical. Apart from the last part. As ideas go, it’s up there with some of Baldrick’s less successful ideas. But luckily the burnt shallot dust was kept in its own vessel and wasn’t allowed to contaminate the fantastic squid. Meltingly tender and crusted with crispy batter, it’s a dish that I won’t forget for some time.



Cowie’s monkfish curry is one of the Porthminster Café’s signature dishes. The rich stew is an amalgam of prawns, mussels, tamarind, turmeric, coconut and chunks of monkfish topped with tomatoes almonds and tomatoes.



Unfortunately, the plate was cold and the food only slightly warmer so we sent it back for a quick blast in the microwave! The flavours were generous and deeply satisfying, if a little light in the chilli department.

My John Dory with crab fritters and an oriental dip, on the other hand was disappointing. The fish was meagre and over-cooked. The crab balls were bland. And the whole thing a shadow of what a good piece of John Dory can be. Plus, the use of a shot glass was a touch repetitive.



We shared a tamarillo themed dessert to finish, but as we tasted each component, wished we hadn’t. The best part was a gorgeous crème brulee which was the least infected by tamarillo! And why did all three of my courses have to feature a shot glass?



It was the most expensive meal of our trip with a very creative menu and a chic atmosphere that you will struggle to find anywhere else in the South West. Whilst, the food started brilliantly it tailed off like the end of a ballad as the ideas got more overworked. If we’d been watching the sun go down or alternatively having lunch overlooking the beach we’d probably have ignored this and thought, “wow”. But without the view to offset the culinary slip ups, we were left feeling impressed in general, but slightly irritated about the food and wondering if they are becoming victims of their own success.

The following day we had coffee at the Porthmeor Beach Café, with Tate St. Ives behind us and sun drenching the beach. It almost felt like we were sitting in a postcard. Over the course of 30 minutes we oohed and aahed as the kitchen emitted the most incredible smells of fresh fish and wafts of garlic and saw dishes of crab claws and bowls of rich fish soup land in front of wowed diners. If we hadn’t been going to The Gurnard’s Head for lunch we’d have tucked in and no doubt raved about it. We also heard that Porthgwidden Beach Café, is preferred by those who consider themselves to be in the know. Their menu is far less elaborate than Porthminster’s but that’s no bad thing. The sound of their seafood pancake has got me excited from 300 miles away!

St. Ives is incredibly lucky to have not one, but three fantastic beach cafes that serve a stunning range of top quality food with views over the sea – which can’t be far off being unique for a town of this size in the UK. You’ve also got the added bonus of stunning beaches and access to Vicky’s bread, (from Fore St. Deli & Digey Food Room) which wins awards on a regular basis.

For more foodie information about St. Ives have a look at this website.

This is the first in a series of posts about our trip around Cornwall, Devon and Dorset which you all helped to make so special by responding to our call for help.