I went out to lunch today to an olde worlde (1600's) pub. And so why is that so earth shattering I hear you ask. Well m'dears it wasn't any old boozer full of old sorts it was a tiny old place owned by the very uncle of Jamie Oliver.
And within it's timbered walls I got quite overcome by sizes.

The size of the place was not unlike the mission hall we passed as we meandered along scenery so peaceful and pretty it made me wish I could write. But I stayed silent and pen free choosing to lose myself in the wonder of this earth locked heaven.
Essex, as you know, gets a lot of bad stick but if the knockers and snobs saw what I saw and tasted today they'd be banging along the pheasant lined roads in raptures.

This delightful joint is called The Plough and Sail. (Link to it in my fav sites list)

I plumped for a mushroom and brie starter with caramelised onion served with leafy salad and buttered bread.

Lunch proper took my breath away.

My white plate held a wedge of utterly gorgeous asparagus and brie flan (yes brie again) proper deep fried chips cut thickly and cooked to perfection, a crunchy creamy coleslaw, another leafy salad interweaved with slices of juicy tomato and fresh and wet cu. Peppery watercress added more joy. By the way the pastry was cooked to perfection. I checked underneath.
I was away with the gastronomic fairies.

Half a shandy too.

Did I want to see the dessert board said the charming chatty waitress...
It was BIG. The list was a pud lovers porn I mean all tastes were catered for...
Banoffee Pie, many ice creams, strawberry pavlovas, crumbles, tarts, flans, upside down puddings, rum trifles, chocolate everywhere, cointreau bread and butter pudding and Jamie's very own Lemon Curd Cheesecake...the list went on and on and on.

Being a stickler for rib sticking food I opted for something I shouldn't have opted for...namely Syrup Pudding and custard.
Whoever the chef was knew a thing about dressing a plate because unlike other establishments where I've eaten English puddings, this chef made the Pudding the Star, a great light as air golden wedge lay on its side surrounded not by ladlefuls of nuclear yellow custard but by a simple pool of rich tasting real custard which heightened the near orgasmic pleasure of the sublime pudding.
I couldn't eat it because..... I kept looking at it. But sense, hunger and greed prevailed and I sunk my spoon in...

Outside was even more thrilling.

An huge aviary with yellow orange and speckled birds all happily dipping their beaks into plentiful supplies of raw broccoli, my friend and I stood stock still gawping like a couple of goldfish at the sight and sound of these captive birds. I love birds and wished for a moment that I could break down the net so they could come and live with me but I was sure they were well looked after.

Not wishing to spoil the reverie with animal welfare worries I ditched my friend in order to slide down the slide and swing on the swings... He eventually caught me up of course and pushed me higher and higher on the swings then soothed my bum after I'd landed poorly after my slide ride.I felt nothing of course... other than the wind on my cheeks.
:)

My One and Only Love. Poem

On the Horsehound menu tonight. Fish..FISH? Yep Fish. I'm feeling too tired to 'make' anything, so grilled Pollack is the fish dish of the day. But it is healthy so...For pud? A 3 minute microwaved syrup pudding. IT IS HOMEMADE. I haven't sunk so low as to nuke a SHOP BOUGHT one!

I love to cook but I couldn't and wouldn't live without beautiful words...
Been reading some of the poems on this here blog and the one below is a favourite of mine. It's sentiments pure, it's honesty clear, I love it with all my just beating heart.


On bright snow I childishly blow
frozen kisses to my friends
Then
On wooden benches I solemnly sit
slicing out your name
Then
On bent knees I show
my pretty insane love for you
Then
On Tuesday you said 'us'
and I couldn't feel the pavement.

First Day of Autumn

And so all gone are the flimsy frocks of summer and in come the sensible woollies and sturdy boots for the gold and brown months.
I've always loved Autumn and Winter, because being a serious woman and bit of a hermit I tend to feel more at one with the darker days and take, in a curious and strange way, little bits of comfort from bouts of bad weather.
Some may say grotty weather enables me to hide away in layer upon layer of wool and leather and they may well be right, I suppose it's my reclusive nature.
I always wear a big coat and small hat when it gets a bit chilly and there's nothing nicer or more feminine than a short lady well buttoned up and wearing a silly hat in a jaunty manner.
I have to admit though I can look a bit of a plank.

Food.
I love cooking casserole after casserole, often dropping in various root veg which have no right to be there, but in my mind will add to the umptuousness of the rich sticky beefy/ lamby/chickeny thing I'm making.
And as for puddings, oh Perleeezzzze!......My life is defined by them.
I am a Pudding Queen.
Autumn and winter wouldn't be autumn and winter without a thick girthed lot of chocolate, syrup, lemon or jammy puds all lining up waiting and aching to be covered by pints of dripping steaming tongue bursting custard.
I worship Puddings.
In fact I'd get on my knees to a Spotted Dick.

Imaging if you will, 5 foot me, blade in hand, digging around and down the sides of a hot basin, and then ever so gently easing a big plump brown baby pud onto an eager plate, it is, quite simply, the most perfect sensation. I feel quite aroused just thinking about it. Of course one doesn't have to cover it with custard, one could drop a mound of whipped cream on top and then gaze open-mouthed as the slippery thick white stuff rolls down the sides and into the creases and cracks of the beauty which is begging to be eaten.
Er...where was I? Oh yes something about Autumn and how much I love it....
I do, very much.

So here I sit in my red polo neck woolly and white jeans looking out into the garden at summer's remnants, patches of brown and green grass, the lilac flowers of the Rosemary bush have come and gone leaving masses of spiky green leaves waiting to be stuck into a nice leg of lamb.
And the yellow roses, oh yes the yellow roses, they made me feel lots of things, mostly love, but they've disappeared now, and that is how it should be. But I'm going to miss their scent as I drive in and out and I'll miss their shudder as my lawnmower brushes up against them making a petal or two fall.
Sorry rose.

But mostly I'm going to miss them as I look up from my computer screen day after day because as I look out into my little garden, they won't be there any more.
The garden is going to sleep, and I won't disturb it by pottering about, I'll let it rest.
Because today is the first day of Autumn.