Thursday, 4 September 2025

Barnard Castle

A Brief Stop for Lunch and Several Reasons to Return

Does Barnard Have a Castle?


County Durham
We set out to drive to Alnwick in Northumberland, but that takes 4 hours or more, so we needed a lunch stop. As the driver, Lynne decided to take the M6 as far as Tebay, eschew its excellent service station, turn right and track east cross-country to Barnard Castle. I had an eye operation two weeks ago and she thought we could have lunch, and I could check my eyesight while I was there; it was the obvious place to go.

Co Durham and its position within England (inset)
Barnard Castle is a town with some 5,000 inhabitants in the south west of the county

Arriving from the east we entered the town over the old bridge across the River Tees below the eponymous castle. The bridge was rebuilt in 1596 incorporating elements of a much older structure.

The castle is atmospheric if somewhat skeletal. Built at the end of the 11th century, it controlled the river crossing between the Bishop of Durham’s territory to the north and the feudal lordship known as the ‘Honour of Richmond’ to the south. It was updated in the12th and early 13th centuries by the Balliol family who (off and on) claimed the throne of Scotland (see The Battle of Stirling in the Stirling) post. The Earls of Warwick then held the castle until 1471 when it passed to the Duke of Gloucester, later Richard III, who held it until his death at the battle of Bosworth in 1485. In 1569, the ‘Rising of the North’, a Catholic insurrection against Elizabeth I, led to rebels besieging and then taking the castle after a damaging bombardment. The castle never recovered and was abandoned in the early 17th century.

Barnard Castle above the River Tees

We did not visit the castle – now in the care of English Heritage – as this was only a lunch stop. The borrowed photo, by Ben Gamble, is part of the Geograph project collection and is reproduced under Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 2.0 Generic licence.

Anything Else?

Other than the castle, Barnard Castle’s main attraction is the Bowes Museum. It is housed in a purpose-built château designed by Jules Pellechet in French Second Empire style. Building started in 1869 (the 2nd Empire collapsed in 1870) and the museum opened to the public in 1892. It was the vision of wealthy local landowner John Bowes and his Wife Joséphine, though unfortunately neither lived to see their museum open.

It has displays of art – paintings by Canaletto, El Greco and Goya among others – ceramics, silver, tapestries, sculpture and local history. There is also the Silver Swan – a life-sized 18th century automaton - that elegantly “catches fish” when activated. It is the only exhibit I remember from our visit in the 1970s. There was no visit this time, entry now costs £20 a head, too much for a lunchtime brief encounter.

Once round the castle we drove up The Bank – the lower part of what might elsewhere be called the High Street - and then went twice round the Market Cross. This was not strictly necessary, and the event produced a minor domestic dispute, finally settled by allotting the blame to me. Continuing through the High Street’s upper section, known Horse Market, we rounded the bend into Galgate. On our right was a large car park outside the local Morrisons, so we stopped there.

Barnard Castle Market Cross

Testing One's Eyesight

The first thing I did after leaving the car park was to test my eyesight, it is a long tradition in Barnard Castle dating all the way back to 2020.

Looking at things to test my eyesight, Barnard Castle

In April that year, during the first COVID lockdown, Dominic Cummings - Chief Adviser to PM Boris Johnson - travelled with his wife and child from London to Durham after she developed COVID symptoms. The rest of us were dutifully staying at home, as instructed, but an allowance was made for those seeking necessary childcare support. Few people imagined this allowance covered a five-hour drive.

Sometime later Cummings admitted to being seen in Barnard Castle (about 30 minutes from Durham - I have a Durham post, too). He had driven there, he said, to "test his eyesight" and ensure he was safe to make the long drive back to London after recovering from COVID symptoms.

Few people believed him. Apart from it being against lockdown regulation, would a sensible person take a 30-minute drive to see if their eyesight was fit for driving? Mine is marginal, so Lynne drove me here and after 20 minutes in Barnard Castle it still seemed marginal. Both Cummings and Johnson apparently believed in one rule for the people and another rule for them. Cummings resigned in November 2020, Johnson some 18 months later.

Lunch

Brie and Cranberry

We located a convenient café on Galgate and ordered toasties and a cup of tea. I enjoyed my brie and cranberry toastie and it set me wondering how a cheese from northern France first met a berry from the coastal United States and struck up a relationship. I asked the ever-semi-reliable ChatGPT and they told me that it is an English sandwich filling which first appeared in the early 2000s - they could cite no specific ‘first instance’ - and spread organically until it became widespread. The British market for French soft cheeses, they said, expanded markedly in the early 2000s, about the same time as cranberry sauce was first being imported from America where it had long been a traditional part of Thanksgiving and Christmas meals. There may be a grain of truth there, but cranberry sauce has been part of my Christmases since the 1970s and I have been eating brie and camembert since the 60s. Perhaps, when it comes to new foods, I grew up in a family of early adopters. I would note the combination requires an under-ripe brie, like most of those in British supermarkets. A fully ripe Brie de Meaux is a joy but would be overpowering in this context.

And a Side Order of Compassion

As we were finishing, an elderly man came in and sat at the table next to us. I am 75, I would hate to be called elderly (even if I am) but I have just used that word to describe somebody else. I doubt he was much older than me and he seemed in reasonable physical condition, but the blank look in his eye suggested he was not the man he once was. One of the young women who work in the café greeted him by name. “Hello Lenny,” she said, “D’you want a cup of tea?” He stared straight ahead but did not answer. She fetched some tea, put it in front of him and sat down opposite. “Do you want something to eat?” There was a long silence, but she waited patiently. “What's the soup?” “You wouldn't like it, Lenny. Would you like some apple tart?” He did not answer. “We’ve got custard, would you like some custard?” He nodded. She went away and returned bearing a bowl containing a large slice of apple tart wallowing in custard. He picked up his spoon and started eating with obvious relish.

We left at that point. I have no idea how much help he needs and gets, but he was reasonably well turned out.  Maybe he comes in every day, but the important point is that he was treated with sensitivity and compassion. - a shining example of kindness in a world that sees too little of it.

Horse Market

Walking back round into Horse Market we saw a gentle curve of buildings running down to the Market Cross.  Most look Georgian though some are younger and a few older. Many have blue plaques explaining the various uses the premises have been put to over the centuries.

Horse Market, Barnard Castle

The good people of Barnard Castle have a Morrisons and a Lidl for their convenience but are blessed by also having the option of proper old-fashioned butchers and an artisan baker with a side-line in interesting cheeses. One of the several pubs offers ‘dog friendly karaoke’ (no, nor me) and there is an African/Caribbean coffee shop. I do not know when Nobia and Sons opened, but they have earned many friendly reviews over the last two and a half years. They sell the standard coffee and cakes but also offer Jollof rice, curry goat, jerk chicken and more. For a fleeting moment a second lunch seemed a good idea, then reality kicked in. Further down is a farmer’s market; it seems the only thing you cannot buy in the Horse Market is a horse.

Horse Market, the Market Cross and St Mary's Church

The octagonal market cross that we earlier circumnavigated was built in 1747 by wealthy wool merchant Thomas Breaks. The open ground floor was used by farmers selling butter, eggs and the like, while the upper storey has been variously used as a courtroom, gaol, fire station and town hall.

The principal modern use of the Grade 1 listed building, sometimes referred to by locals as ‘Breaks' Folly’ is as a traffic hazard. It reduces visibility for all drivers and is regularly clipped by HGVs making their way through the town (see the Teesdale Mercury. 2019).

St Mary's Parish Church, Barnard Castle

St Mary’s church dates from the early 12th century, the time Bernard de Balliol built the stone castle and gave his name to the town that would develop round it.

Like all old churches, there have been alterations and additions over the centuries, though most of what we can see is 14th century or earlier. The main exception is the tower that was rebuilt in 1873–74 as it was in danger of collapse.

The Parish Church of St Mary, Barnard Castle

Inside it has some odd features and at first sight appears to have been built backwards, but the pews do point in the usual direction.

Looking towards the west window, St Mary's Barnard Castle

There is a rather worn probably 14th century effigy of St Anthony and a boar. St Anthony, the patron saint of swineherds, is linked to the Augustinians, and an Augustinian friary was established in 1380 in Thorngate, just south of the castle and 250m from the church. No one knows what happened to the friary or whether it was ever fully established, but maybe the boar came to the church from there.

St Anthony and a Boar, St Mary's, Barnard Castle

The castle passed to the Duke of Gloucester, later Richard III, who also has the boar as his symbol. Under his patronage the church was enlarged, though the unusual flight of stairs up to the chancel was probably built later.

Steps up to the chancel, St Mary's Barnard Castle

In front of the steps is a stone arch with the sculpted head of Edward IV (Richard’s older brother) to the left….

Edward IV, St Mary's, Barnard Castle

…and Richard himself, as Duke of Gloucester, to the right. A hundred years later Shakespeare painted Richard III as a villain, but Shakespeare’s history plays never bothered too much with historical accuracy and Richard has been rehabilitated recently.

The Duke of Gloucester (later Richard III) St Mary's, Barnard Castle 

There is an enormous font from about the same time. A stool is provided for the priest to stand on while baptising children, but the diving board was removed in the 19th century. The letters and symbols carved round the edge have no known meaning.

Enormous font, St Mary's, Barnard Castle

Back to the Car and on to Alnwick

As we returned from the church it started to rain. At first the big, fat, lazy drops had space between them, but the further we walked the closer together the drops became and the harder and faster they fell. By the time we reached Morrisons, it was a torrential downpour, so we and a dozen others stood beneath their awning and waited. Rain that hard cannot last long, but as soon as it eased a new cloud cracked open and the intensity returned. After the third time this happened we ran for it.

Despite selecting ‘recommended route’ for the remainder of our journey to Alnwick, our SatNav chose the scenic route - at least as far as Newcastle and the A1. We crossed the bleak moorland of Teesdale and Weardale, which have their charms when you are pottering, but the narrow, meandering roads are frustrating when you have somewhere to go. One consolation of this diversion is that our route grazed the edge of the large village/small town of Stanhope. If other fans of Vera, the good-hearted but curmudgeonly detective who makes Morse look like a party animal, were wondering where she got her surname, they need wonder no more.

We reached Alnwick in the late afternoon, feeling that we should give Barnard Castle a proper visit one day soon.

Thank you for reading to the end. Your reward for doing so is the information that one 'fact' about St Mary's Church was invented by the author. But you knew that anyway.

Tuesday, 2 September 2025

Fifty Years Together (3): A Special Present

A Rare and Wonderful Bottle


Staffordshire
Wedding anniversaries are important to the couple involved, celebrations are often more private and involve less present giving than birthdays or Christmas. This rather special year however we received one spectacular present. It came from my sister Erica – seen here visiting Piglet in Ashdown Forest (aka the Hundred Aker Wood).

Erica visits piglet

I am a practising wine buff, and Erica goes to great lengths to find interesting wines for birthdays and Christmases, but for this anniversary she excelled herself. She gave us a bottle of Château Mouton-Baron-Philippe, from Pauillac in Bordeaux's Haut Médoc region of Bordeaux. In 1855 the great and the good of the Bordeaux wine world examined their châteaux for consistency and quality and gave 60 of them the right to call themselves Cru Classé. Ch Mouton-Baronne-Philippe was among them, though then called Ch Mouton d’Armailhacq (and since 1989, Ch d’Armailhac). These 60 were the pinnacle of red wine making in the Haut Médoc, thus the pinnacle in Bordeaux - and thus in the whole world (according to the Bordelais). The people of Burgundy would have argued loudly in 1855 and today other regions (Tuscany, Napa Valley, Barossa Valley and more) might reasonably claim joint pinnacle status, but the 60 from 1855 - all still producing fine wine – remain at the tip of their pinnacle.

Chateau Mouton Baron Philippe

But this is not just a bottle from a top chateau, it was from the 1975 vintage. ‘75 was a good year in Bordeaux and was also the year we were married. We already had arrangements for our wedding anniversary, so decided to hold this over for our birthday celebrations, mine today, and Lynne’s at the weekend when we will be away. These celebrations also involve the number 75.

Vintage 1975

50-year-old claret is a beautiful thing and needs careful treatment. It would have thrown a heavy sediment, mostly adhering to the back of the bottle opposite the label, but it had been unavoidably disrupted by a 4-hour car journey from Sussex. Standard advice is to place the bottle in a vertical position some 72 hours before serving but because of the car journey I left it a couple of days longer. The wine was shoulder-high in the bottle, which is normal for its age.

Next came the challenge of extracting a fifty-year-old cork. I removed the capsule and inserted my corkscrew carefully into the extremely soft cork. With a smooth and very gentle pull I had the top half outside the bottle neck before it broke, which was a little better than I had expected. Had I owned a ‘butler’s friend’ the rest would be easy, but not being so blessed, I reinserted the corkscrew into the lower half of the cork. It would be frighteningly easy now to pull out the corkscrew leaving a hole and showering cork dust into the wine. Holding my breath, I pulled very gently and to my relief (and surprise) the lower half came out intact. All I had to do now was to decant the wine off the sediment, a largely successful operation.

The decanted wine

Then give it a gentle swirl…

Give it a gentle swirl

…and a sniff…

A thoughtful sniff

And drink it accompanied by a duck leg.

And what does a fifty-year-old claret taste like?

According to the textbooks, the tannins and fruit flavours should have faded and been replaced by a subtle, savoury complexity. Our bottle though retained noticeable tannin; 1975 was a year of particularly tannic wines in Bordeaux, so that seemed appropriate.

The following was culled from the notes I found on-line for this particular wine and vintage, and reasonably represent what we saw, sniffed and drank.

Colour: Tawny with a wide rim; heavy sediment

Nose: Little fruit but notes of cedar, leather, tobacco leaf, dried currant, graphite, forest floor, mushroom/truffle, maybe even soy sauce and a whiff of cigar box (classic Pauillac). Wine-writers play word association games, but it feels largely right, though I doubt I have ever handled a cigar box, never mind sniffed one.

Palate: Fruit almost gone, but faint dried blackcurrant or prune. The alcohol is well integrated; the wine has become lighter with age and the acidity more pronounced. The finish is long with savoury notes.

We have had the good fortune to taste a few such Cru Classé wines over the years, but never one of this age. It was an experience I enjoyed from start to finish – even the perilous cork extraction. We are both very grateful to Erica for giving us such a fine finish to our extended Golden Wedding celebrations and a memorable start to our birthday revels.

See Also

Saturday, 26 July 2025

Fifty Year Together (2): Celebrating at The Angel at Hetton

Continued from Part 1....

The Restaurant, the Angel at Hetton


North Yorkshire
The Angel Inn at Hetton first opened its doors to the public in the 15th century and has been serving food and drink ever since. Its latest incarnation started in September 2018 with the arrival of chef-patron Michael Wignall, his wife Johanna and their team. Wignall had previously been executive head chef at Gidley Hall in Devon.

He has ambitious plans for the Angel, the big first step, winning a Michelin star, being achieved in October 2019. He describes his style as casual and contemporary and his food as being modern, technical and meaningful which he explains as every element brings flavour or texture, enticing diners to experience new combinations and ingredients. (Phrases in italics come from angelhetton,co,uk.)

I am bemused by the repeated use of the word ‘casual’ on the website. There is nothing casual about the way Michael Wigmore designs, cooks and presents each dish. Lynne and I do not eat casually, we take small flavour-packed mouthfuls and taste, discuss and savour. There is nothing casual about the large, well-trained waiting staff who glide purposefully between the tables. But, when we need to talk to them, the conversation is informal. No one wants or expects obsequious Victorian servants, or supercilious butlers. Perhaps the word they wanted was informal rather than casual.

Our Dinner

The Angel offers a choice of five or seven course tasting menus. Twenty years ago we might have chosen seven, but even with tiny courses that is now too much, so we went for five.

The Angel menu

Numerate readers will observe that the 5-course menu has nine courses. The Wagyu and Cheese, options we eschewed, are the missing courses from the 7-course menu, allowing an upgrade, should the diner feel peckish. Bread is never considered a ‘course’ and Snacks are what more formal/less casual menus would call canapés, so not a course either.

Snacks

Baron Bigod is a Brie-like cheese made on the Suffolk/Norfolk boundary. I know no finer cheese and I have written about it in both Suffolk and Norfolk. A bonus point for top quality ingredients but sadly turning Baron Bigod into a mousse dimmed its unique subtleties. The tuile was clever, but the Alsace bacon perched on it rather overwhelmed the mousse.

Baron Bigod mousse and tuiles

Parfait. A chicken liver parfait in a boat of puffed rice, was as soft and lovely as a parfait gets.

Chicken Liver Parfait

Chawanmushi. The first of several Japanese touches. Lynne and I have been privileged to eat our way over the last two decades from Malacca up through every country in mainland East Asia to Beijing in the North. Sadly, we have never visited Japan, and as Japanese flavours are becoming ever more popular, I am playing catch-up. Chawanmushi is a custard made from dashi, sake and eggs. This was a lovely little pot of a totally new flavours. I really enjoyed it.

Chawanmushi

The snacks accompanied our pre-dinner G&T where we were introduced to the Hooting Owl Distillery in York. Among their many products are four gins named for the four corners of the county. I had West Yorkshire, with all the cumin and turmeric of a Bradford curry, Lynne had South Yorkshire, based on liquorice and enough mint and rosemary to grace a Barnsley chop. We live in an age when artisan gin distilleries hide round every corner and behind every bush. Even the finest distilleries must struggle for exposure amid a tsunami of mediocrity. Hooting Owl should surf that tsunami; gin does not get any better than this.

Tomato

Textures of tomato, the subheading says, and here are tomatoes, some normal, some with skin off, some semi dried. Ricotta and basil are mentioned and clearly visible – they are welcome as old friends, of the tomato. XO, so as far as I know, is a Chinese sauce involving dried scallops and shrimps, Jinhua ham, garlic chilli and shallots. I did not recognise it here. There is seaweed, a Wigmore trademark, and I thought the waiter mentioned a white Japanese tomato with yuzu. I ate a tomato that seemed to be struggling awkwardly with citrus but I thought it was red.

Tomatoes, The Angel at Hetton

Lynne liked the elements, but could not see how they came together, I was just a little confused. What a shame we started with what we thought was by far the weakest course.

Wine. Etna Rosato, Pietradolce.
The sommelier was a bright and cheerful young woman, who took on the impossible task of finding a wine to compliment a dish of tomatoes with apparent enthusiasm. Michele Faro’s 11ha vineyard is on the side of Mt Etna 700+m up the mountain. He uses the local Nerello Mascalase grape and some of his vines have been producing for 120 years. His rosato is exceptional. Minerality and acidity come from the volcanic soil, while the vines generate a range of fruit flavours, with strawberry dominating. We could not find the redcurrant and cranberry mentioned by the sommelier, but we did find an orangey citrus note. I enjoy a good, dry rosé, and this was a very good dry rosé indeed.

Bread

Bread is never counted as a course but there comes a point in all such meals when somebody comes along and plonks down a basket of high-quality bread at a moment when you really have no use for it. Michael Wigmore , however, makes a laudable attempt to make sense of this interlude. Hokkaido milk bread is a light, fluffy bread in a shape suitable for tearing and sharing. With it came Ampersand butter, a traditionally made, batch churned cultured butter produced near Banbury, and a couple of dips. Colonnata lardo is a speciality of the Tuscan village of Colonnata. It is pork fatback cured for 6 months with layers of sea salt, garlic, rosemary, sage, pepper, and other local herbs/spices. Semi-liquid bacon is my best attempt at a description. The other dip was the rather more familiar taramasalata.

Bread, The Angel at Hetton

Not Wine. Poiré Granite, Eric Bordelet, Normandy
Our sommelier’s pick for this was not a wine but a sparkling poiré, or perry, in English. I rarely drink cider, and I had never previously tasted perry. Poiré Granit (referencing the local geology) is made by former sommelier Eric Bordelet in Normandy. It is made, we were told, in a way that more resembles champagne than cider. The retail cost is also reminiscent of (cheaper) champagne but unfortunately, the taste is not, and neither of us really liked it. Probably my first and last glass of perry.

Cod

This small, squat, white cylinder in the middle of its huge plate looked so lonely I felt sorry for it.

Cod, the Angel at Hetton

Then I unpacked it, removing the kombu, a variety of kelp very popular in Japan, and shifting the strips of cuttlefish to one side. Beneath it, balancing on the cod were two small, transparent circles of what I took to be potato, was this a homage to cod and chips?

I nibbled the kombu; it was all right. I nibbled the cuttlefish; the thin strips were remarkably tender. Lynne orders cuttlefish whenever it appears on a menu, but I am deterred by its resemblance to a bloated, yolkless boiled egg. The flavour is stronger than squid and it tastes more of the sea, but these strips were about texture not flavour.

Cod unpacked, The Angel at Hetton

The dark blobs were, presumably, smoked pike roe. There is no way of transferring the blob and its flavour to your mouth with a standard knife and fork. Michael Wigmore might aim for ‘casual’ but leaning forward and licking the plate would probably be a step too far.

The cod itself was remarkable. Surprisingly solid, but with flakes sliding across each other as if lubricated. The flavour was deep and intense; I never knew the humble cod could taste so sumptuous. I keep a list of platonic ideals, the food that has reached perfection. This makes the list, it is the cod that God would eat (if God a) exists, b) eats and c) likes cod.) Oddly I already have cod on my list, the product of a fish and chip shop in Reykjavik that was so fresh it was almost fluffy, so pristine it had to be eaten swiftly and in its entirety. There is room for both, apart from being cod, and being perfect, they have nothing in common.

Wine Rioja Blanco, Viñedos del Contino, Rioja Alavesa
I am old enough to remember when Rioja blanco spent years in oak barrels and the wines were stiff with oak. I rather liked them, but they went out of fashion and Rioja became all fruit flavours and crispness, often too thin and acid for me. Now a leading producer has put some oak back. The young sommelier was quick to note the oak was only to add structure and texture not oaky flavours, before admitting a hint of smoke and toast. I thought it struck a fine balance between oak and fruit, and was an inspired choice, few whites possess the structure to take on the dense flavoured cod.

Quail

Like the cod, the quail gave us a new view of an old favourite. In Portugal Lynne always buys and cooks quails, though our quail eating started long ago in France where they serve it guts and all. This quail breast was more tender, more moist and fuller flavoured than any I have met before. Onto the list it goes.

Quail

The carefully arranged accompaniments included:

Cotechino, an Italian sausage usually made of pork, but here made of quail. It was rich, savoury and subtly spiced.
Boudin Blanc, literally ‘white pudding.’ A ‘Full English’ breakfast usually includes black pudding, a sausage made from pigs’ blood, fat, cereal and spices. A ‘Full Irish’ can offer both local local black pudding and white pudding which is largely the same but without the blood. The French versions are similar but minus the cereal. They are softer, not a breakfast food, but more like paté. Michael Wigmore’s was very delicate in flavour.
Three tiny girolles that punched above their weight – I could have managed five!
Jerusalem artichoke ‘chip’ that supported my belief that there is little it can do that is not done better by a potato.

Wine. Pinot Noir, Winnica Turnau, Zachodniopomorske.
The sommelier seemed delighted to have sourced a Polish Pinot Noir. Winnica Turnau started planting in 2010 and today has 37ha making it Poland’s largest winery. Vivino display some comments, generally positive, though one remarks that it is overpriced. It apparently retails at around £30 a bottle. I am delighted to have tasted my first ever Polish wine, but sadly Lynne and I both felt it was borderline unpleasant. In retrospect we should have sent it back, but lacking experience of Polish wine, it had all gone before we were certain.

Peach

This was a very pretty dessert sitting in a delicate shortcrust pastry cup with baked white chocolate on the base and a peach sorbet on the top. I had to look up namelaka. It is a glossy, stabilized ganache made from white chocolate, milk, cream, and gelatine. So that is more white chocolate. balanced with fruit and flowers and a crumb beneath the sorbet. It is all very sweet and lovely.

Peach

Wine.“Kika” Chenin Blanc, Miles Mossop, Stellenbosch
Chenin Blanc is not generally considered a grape for the finest wines, either in South Africa or beside the Loire, but it is susceptible to ‘noble rot’ if left on the vine long enough. The grapes then shrivel, losing water but not sugar or flavour. Vinifying such intensely sweet grapes makes enough alcohol to kill off the yeast before it has consumed all the sugar, leaving sweet, or in this case, intensely sweet wine, balanced by the Chenin Blanc's high acidity. With a flowery aroma and a palate of honey and ginger, it is beguiling and even sweeter than the dessert it was paired with. Miles Mossop names his wine after family members, predictably his sweetest wine is named “Kika” after his youngest daughter.

Malt

The leading player in this act is the small brown truncated cone resembling a mini-Christmas pudding but tasting more like malt loaf – an almost forgotten memory. The menu also mentions dulce de leche; from Argentina (or Uruguay), it is a sweet, caramel-like spread made by slowly heating milk and sugar until it thickens and turns a rich golden-brown. I presume this forms the brown lines on the plate. Pearl barley also gets a mention, but where it was is a mystery. There was also salsify sticks, a vegetable I had not expected in a dessert, but they fitted well. I also noted a piece of pear, and a blob of something cool and dairy.

Malt

The menu also references Styrofoam, an inedible plastic used in packaging. I presume this is a reference to the pleasant crunchy stuff surrounding the main players and is a joke, of sorts. I may seem a little confused by parts of this dish, but we had been at the table for the best of three hours and drunk six glasses of wine (or perry) - not large glasses, but not small either. It was a pleasant end to the evening, not as sweet as the first dessert and not too demanding to eat (though describing it is another matter).

Wine. Anthemis, UWC Samos
The other way to make a sweet wine is to dump the must into alcohol of some sort, usually brandy, and so halt the fermentation before the yeast gets to the grape sugar. Anthemis is one such Vin de Liqueur. Made from Muscat Blanc à Petits Grains, it spends five years in oak barrels emerging a pleasing coppery orange. Intensely sweet, it retains the fresh aroma of the Muscat while the oak aging gives flavours of honey, smoke and toffee. It is possibly the only realistic answer to the question ‘what wine goes with Christmas pudding’? It also suits the malt loaf in this slightly less sweet dessert. It is a wonderful 'sticky' but, a little goes a long way.

The End (for tonight)

We finished the evening with coffee and sweet treats – petits fours to those less casual. We had enjoyed an excellent dinner, with great invention and with some real standouts. We had a good time, but it required a long period of concentration. Much work goes into producing such meals so we owe to the chef to take it seriously – and to us, to get our money’s worth!

Coffee and sweet treats

Breakfast

We awoke refreshed and got up in leisurely fashion. Last night the courses had been numerous, but the portions small enough not to interfere with our capacity to enjoy a good breakfast.

Breakfast presents Michelin starred restaurants with a problem. Diners go into the evening meal prepared to try novel combinations and new flavours but are rather more wary at breakfast. The solution is usually to go for top quality, but familiar ingredients simply cooked. This does not mean they cannot produce a dish worthy of my platonic list – I will remember the scrambled eggs at the Yorke Arms in nearby Ramsgill in 2013 for the rest of my life.

At the Angel the breakfast menu appeared to have another five courses, though the toast and preserves were presumably to be eaten together.

We started with yoghurt, made in-house and enhanced by a layer of fresh fruits and nuts, then we ate the trout, home cured and lightly smoked over hay and accompanied by crème freche and dill. The yoghurt woke the palate, and the trout (a breakfast first) was very delicately flavoured.

Yoghurt and trout

The toast is Shokupan, another Japanese milk bread, which went nicely with the ampersand butter and the preserves, made in-house like the bread and choux buns. Filled with tonka bean chantilly the buns were unbelievably light, while the filling was delicious,

Toast and choux buns

The meat was Nidderdale sausage, prize winning pork sausages made by Farmson and Co in Ripon. The bacon, also produced in-house, was more of a slice from a bacon joint with a sweet-cured rind than the usual back bacon, but none the worse for that.

Sausage and Bacon

Last up was a soft-boiled free-range Cornish egg. I am not sure Cornish chickens per se produced better eggs than Yorkshire (or even Staffordshire) chickens, but this was a fine egg and with the yolk dripping across ampersand butter, truly memorable. I have no photo, but if you have read this far, you probably know what an egg looks like.

And that finished our wedding anniversary gastronomic adventure. We may have risen eager to take on breakfast, but when we stood up from the table, we knew we had sacrificed lunch. It was worth it.

'Fine Dining' posts

Abergavenny and the Walnut Tree (2010)
Ludlow and La Bécasse (2011) (restaurant closed, post withdrawn)
Ilkley and The Box Tree (2012)
Pateley Bridge and the Yorke Arms (2013) (No longer a restaurant, post renamed Parceval Gardens and Pateley Br)
The Harrow at Little Bedwyn (2014)
The Slaughters and the Lords of the Manor (2015)
Loam, Fine Dining in Galway (2016)
Penarth and Restaurant James Sommerin (2017) (restaurant closed, post withdrawn. JS has a new restaurant in Penarth)
The Checkers, Montgomery (2017) (no longer a restaurant, post withdrawn. Now re-opened under new management)
Tyddyn Llan, Llandrillo, Denbighshire (2018)
Fischer's at Baslow Hall, Derbyshire (2019)
Hambleton Hall, Rutland (2021)
The Olive Tree, Queensberry Hotel, Bath (2022)
Dinner at Pensons near Tenbury Wells (2023) (restaurant closed Dec 2023, post withdrawn)
The Cross, Kenilworth (& Kenilworth Castle) (2024)
The Angel at Hetton, North Yorkshire (2025, Golden Wedding Celebration)

See Also

Fifty Years Together (1) Chasing Memories Around Wharfedale

Back to Where it all Started

Heading North


North Yorkshire
Fifty years of marriage requires a celebration, but as we set out to do just that, only I knew where we were going. This has become the traditional format of our anniversary jaunts, though neither of us can remember how it started. Lynne took the wheel (eyesight problems make it unwise for me to drive) and I directed her north up the M6, and 80 miles later north-east onto the M65. From the end of the M65 at Colne (of ‘fond’ memory to some) we travelled cross-country to Skipton, Gateway to the Yorkshire Dales.

The Traditional County of Yorkshire
Skipton and Kettlewell are marked, Hubberholme is just north of Kettlewell and Hetton is north of Skipton inside the National Park

Below is how we looked 50 years ago today. What we look like now will be revealed (more than once), as this post wears on.

Wedding Day, 26th of July 1975

Skipton

We paused in Skipton for coffee and then took a short walk through the busy Saturday market to the gates of the castle and posed for the day’s first photo opportunity.

Outside Skipton Castle (hardly changed, have we)

Over the gate is the word 'Desormais' (Henceforth) the slightly two-edged motto of the Clifford family who owned the castle from 1310 until after the Civil War.

We did not enter the castle, but we did in 2020 and it features in a post called Skipton, Grassington and Kettlewell. We did, however, drop in to the adjacent parish church as we had never been there before.

Around 1300 a stone church was built on the site of a 12th-century wooden chapel. It has undergone many alterations since, sometimes because of damage (in 1645 from the Civil War and in 1925 from lightening) and sometimes because later generations thought they could do better, and sometimes they could.

The most eye-catching parts of the church are the rood screen, which bears the date 1553...

Tudor Rood screen, Skipton Parish Church

... and, looking through the screen, the reredos. Designed by Sir George Gilbert Scott in 1870, it is set off by stained-glass window of about the same vintage.

The reredos and the east window, Skipton Parish Church

Kettlewell

From Skipton we  entered the Yorkshire Dales National Park and found the B6160, the ‘main’ road that runs the length of Upper Wharfedale, …

Along the B6160 into Upper Wharfedale

… and followed it to Kettlewell. Fifty years ago we spent our honeymoon here, and apart from more and more dwellings being tarted up as second homes/holiday cottages it has changed little. Today the village has under 300 permanent residents.

Kettlewell had three pubs in 1975 and, remarkably, still has three pubs today. We stayed at one of them, the Blue Bell Inn, which has had its ups and downs over the years, but currently seems to be doing well.

Our honeymoon hotel
The paint is fresh, otherwise nothing has changed since 1975

Here is Lynne nursing a glass of Guinness Zero outside the Blue Bell as we waited for our lunch.

Lynne waiting for lunch outside the Blue Bell, Kettlewell

Despite many attempts over the years, I have yet to capture the charm of the village in a photograph. Here, though, is a photo from my 2020 post Aysgarth and Kettlewell showing the bridge over Kettlewell Beck at the top of the village. We played Pooh Sticks here in 1975, in 2020 and again today (and a few months ago played at the original Pooh Sticks Bridge in Ashdown Forest – we hope to go professional soon.)

Pooh sticks bridge over Kettlewell Beck in 2020

Hubberholme

Just as we did five years ago, we drove northwards up the dale through Starbotton to Buckden where we turned left towards Langstrothdale, following the tiniest of roads to the hamlet of Hubberholme, the smallest, pleasantest place in the world, according to novelist JB Priestly.

The compact Norman Church of Saint Michael and All Angels at Hubberholme was sturdily built to survive almost 1,000 years of Yorkshire weather. We came here in 1975 on the first full day of our marriage on a visit suggested by my best man Chris Noble, sadly no longer with us. He sent us to find the carvings of Robert Thompson (1876 – 1955), known as the ‘Mouseman of Kilburn.’ On returning in 2020 we found the church locked (the baleful curse of Covid) so we came again, on perhaps a more significant day.

The Church of St Michael and All Angels, Hubberholme, photo taken in 2020

Early in his furniture making career Thompson started signing his work by carving mice into it, and the rodents can be found on the oak pews and the choir stalls at Hubberholme.

I wandered round, searching for mice and found nothing. Lynne left the back of the church, where she had been reading about JB Priestley, whose ashes are in the churchyard, and joined me in the search. For a while she was equally unsuccessful, and then she spotted one, and then having seen one, she saw another, and another. She had found quite a few before I found my first, looking without seeing has always been among my special skills. We found lots eventually, but I doubt we them found all.

A Robert Thompson mouse, Hubberholme (they all look the same wherever they are!)

The company Robert Thompson founded: ‘Robert Thompson's Craftsman - the Mousemen of Kilburn’ is still going strong ‘creating the antiques of tomorrow’ from English oak – and ensuring they all carry at least one mouse.

The Angel at Hetton

Having gathered sufficient rodents, we headed back down the Dale, following the B6160 to Cracoe before turning west to Hetton. The village is on the edge of the national park and only 5 miles north of Skipton.

We drove straight past The Angel at our first attempt; its signage is so very discreet. Describing itself as a restaurant with rooms it relies very little, if at all, on passing trade, serving neither ordinary food, nor charging ordinary prices. This was the destination for on our special day, and I had booked months in advance.

The Angel at Hetton

Our room was over the road, in what were once the stables.

Our room in the stable

It was comfortable, large, light and airy if a little over-designed. The lighting looked eccentric, though it worked well when we figured out the switches, which were as discreetly signed as the Angel itself.

A mildly eccentric lighting system?

The bathroom sinks (one each) resembled hollowed-out ceramic tree trunks, while the bath was perfectly designed for a ‘brides in the bath murder’ - but 50 years too late for us. On the other hand, the shower was a shining light in a bathroom of over-designed oddities. It was spacious, the controls were easy to understand and operate, the temperature was easy to set and never varied, the maximum flow was pleasingly torrential, and I could run the sprinkler and the hand shower simultaneously. The best indoor shower ever. My best outdoor shower was at the Xandari Pearl, Marari Beach, Kerala.

At the appropriate time, showered and more formally dressed, we made our way back over the road for dinner. The review of our gastronomic adventure has a post all to itself.

See Also