Showing posts with label UK-England. Show all posts
Showing posts with label UK-England. Show all posts

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, 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)

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.

Thursday, 10 April 2025

Norfolk (3) Hunstanton and Around

Hunstanton: A Victorian Seaside Resort

Introduction


Norfolk
Kings Lynn & W Norfolk
Three years ago, Lynne and I visited Kings Lynn. This produced two posts Kings Lynn, the Town and Around Kings Lynn, The Wash and Castle Rising. This year we went 17 miles further north to Hunstanton, almost on the lip of the Wash. We rented the two upper floors of a sturdy Victorian home to accommodate us, our daughter Siân, son-in-law James and their two children, aged seven and fourteen.

Norfolk - and (inset) the county's position within England
The many pins are the work of Tour Norfolk from whom I have borrowed the map

The village of Old Hunstanton is of prehistoric origin and the Le Strange family were the local gentry from the early 12th century until 1949.

In 1846, Henry L'Estrange Styleman Le Strange (great name!) decided to develop the area south of the village as one of those a new-fangled bathing resorts. Development started, then stalled, but in 1861 he formed a group of investors to build a railway line from King's Lynn. Completed in 1862 the line allowed rapid expansion of the new Hunstanton. Unfortunately, Henry died the same year, leaving his son Hamon (another good name) to reap the rewards of his efforts.

Today Henry stands, rather besmirched with guano, outside the old town hall, now an art gallery and event venue.

Henry Le Strange, Hunstanton

Hunstanton Beaches

07-Apr-2025

North Beach

Having unpacked, we made the short walk to the south end of the north beach. After long drives, legs needed stretching.

It is not a classic lazing and bathing beach, but the striped cliff is unusual. At the base is a dark red layer of Carrstone mostly hidden by the rockfalls, an unusual red limestone occupies the middle with white limestone at the top.

North Beach, Hunstanton

It also has unusual rough, rounded rocks for jumping on and off.

North Beach, Hunstanton

08-Apr-2025

North Beach Again

The next morning at low tide we left our vehicles in the north end car park. Here the white limestone band appears thicker and cliff-fall rubble is all around.

Hunstanton North Beach

Leaving the others looking for fossils I set out across the rocks and the sand beyond. There were waders in the shallow water and I wanted Merlin to identify them (Merlin is a free app from Cornell University which does just that, I recommend it). Unfortunately, I had underestimated the stream flowing across the beach. The people with wellies, walking on my right simply splashed through, but I was underequipped.

Hunstanton north beach

I returned to the others who had found several devil's toenails (an extinct oyster) and belemnites by the dozen. These were a small variation on squid with a bullet-shaped internal skeleton which became fossilised wholesale. They were tiny, several being described as 'underwhelming'.

Further on, geography brought us nearer the waders. Herring and black-headed gulls are ubiquitous, and oystercatchers common but I also recorded whimbrels and curlews and, perhaps surprisingly, an osprey. Birdsongs can be similar, and picking individual birds from the avian babble is difficult. Despite its name Merlin is not a magician, and inevitably throws up the occasional false positive, but it insisted there was at least one osprey out there.

We soon reached the wreck of the Sheraton. Shipwrecks are often stories of disaster, lost lives, and heroics, but not this one.

The wreck of the Sheraton

Constructed in 1907 in Beverley as a trawler, the Sheraton was requisitioned by the Royal Navy 1915-18 and again in 1939 when she was armed with a gun and patrolled the coast. Post-war she was painted bright yellow as a Royal Air Force target ship. By 1947 they had still not hit the target but she broke free of her moorings in an April gale and ran aground here. Re-floatation attempts failed, her superstructure was salvaged and the rest left to rot.

After pausing for a thermos of coffee and a snack, James, Lynne and the youngsters headed back to the cars while Siân and I continued towards the southern access we used yesterday. We were closer than we thought, but were delayed by a large bird standing on a rock. We approached carefully along the sandy channels in the grid-like rock formation, repeatedly creeping then photographing until we crept too close and he flew off.

Great cormorant, Hunstanton beach (with an oystercatcher down to his right)

The final photo will not win prizes, but is sufficient to identify the bird as a great cormorant. Ordinary cormorants are common, but this was our first great cormorant.

Grid-like rock formations, Hunstanton north beach

The rock formations are best seen from steps at the southern access. The pattern is caused by jointing in the bedrock, the lines of weakness being expanded by the sea..

South Beach

After lunch we strolled through the small town centre and across the sloping green below the statue of Henry Le Strange to the south beach.

Mr Le Strange's slopping sward, Hunstanton

This is a sandy beach with bathing opportunities, but not so much in April, the sun shone but with little warmth. Following the younger members of the party we headed for the amusement arcade - Pier Family Amusements according to the sign, though there is no pier.

Pier Family Amusements, Hunstanton

It is a long time since I have visited such a place and I could rant at length, but suffice it to say:-

I was distressed by the penny falls. The elegant simplicity of shuffling shelves and falling coins has been replace by a festoon of dolls and fake flowers, which conspire to keep the coins in place.

I was amazed when Siân beat her son at air-hockey and proudly announced her highest ever score. That a woman with her intellect and responsibilities keeps a corner of her brain labelled ‘air-hockey scores’ baffles me.

I smiled sadly as our grand-daughter amassed over 70 tickets spinning coins across a moving surface to hit targets. She proudly took her tickets to the booth and swapped them for a miniscule lollipop. She could have bought one four times the size for half the money she sent spinning.

Of course, I thought all this but said nothing. It is one thing being a miserable old git, but entirely another to announce it.

James kindly bought everyone a sugary doughnut, warm from the fryer. We ate them sitting on the prom and then continued, sticky-fingered, in the direction of the funfair. Passing the mini-golf the youngest member of the party loudly informed us she wanted to play mini-golf, so we did.

Watching James for tips

It was a great success…but…years ago I played golf regularly. I was not good, but with the ball on the green and I could manage a clean contact between ball and putter - because any fool could. Not anymore. I toe-ended, I shanked and I hit the ground so the club bounced and clipped the top of the ball. Age has brought me to this!

09-Apr-2025

Felbrigg Hall

Many years ago, we acquired a National Trust matching game. Half the cards depicted   NT properties, the other half the ghosts that haunted them. The young Siân liked this game and read the cards assiduously. As Felbrigg Hall in Norfolk was one of those properties, a visit was inevitable.

The Hall is less than 40 miles from Hunstanton, but we let the satnav chose the scenic route and it took some 90 minutes rambling through the lanes of north Norfolk to get there. The grounds around the hall are vast and landscaped, but the hall itself is relatively modest.

Felbrigg Hall

Felbrigg was the home of landed gentry, not aristocrats. Though owning the hall for over 400 years the Wyndham family held no titles, though one of them was knighted, and two were admirals.

The original medieval building had been much modified before it passed by marriage from the Felbrigg family to John Wyndham in 1450.

From then until to 1866 the hall was owned by 11 Wyndhams (or Windhams) 6 Williams, 2 Johns, 2 Thomases and an Ashe. It mostly passed from father to son, but there were the occasional hiccups that occur in every dynasty.

Sir John Windham, the second John, was responsible for the Jacobean core of the building around 1620. The current building is still largely Jacobean, thought with many later modifications. The interior is decorated in more 19th century style.

Morning room, Felbrigg Hall

William Windham I (d. 1689) commissioned architect William Samwell to extend the Jacobean house in 1674.

Great Hall, Felbrigg Hall

His son Ashe Windham, owned Felbrigg for 60 years until his death in 1749. He built the orangery and a service courtyard.

Dining room, Felbrigg Hall

His son, William Windham II hired architect James Paine to remodel the Hall and the formal landscape. There is a portrait of him in the uniform of a Hungarian Hussar, probably from his Grand Tour.

William Windham II as a Hungarian Hussar

William Windham III (1750-1810) was a bibliophile and collector and is largely responsible for the library. While staying at his London home he noticed a friend’s house was on fire and dashed in to save valuable manuscripts. He fell during the rescue and later died from his injuries. He is Felbrigg’s best known apparition, allegedly appearing in the library whenever his favourite books are laid out.

Library, Felbrigg Hall

Felbrigg Hall’s last Windham, was William Frederick (1840–1866) whose father died when he was young. He was sent to Eton but left at 16 and had failed careers in law and the military before inheriting the hall and an annual income of £3,100 (c£250,000 today) on his 21st birthday. He then announced his desire to marry Anne Agnes Willoughby. She may have been the innocent daughter of a vicar, and thus slightly below the Windham’s social standing, or a high-class courtesan, or something in between, different sources tell very different stories. Whatever the truth, his scandalised uncle went to court to have William declared a ‘lunatic.’ The long and dramatic case was followed closely by the press before eventually the judge opined that William was eccentric, but nor mad. Almost ruined by legal expense, he now set about dissipating the remainder of his inheritance and by 1863, the hall was sold and William was destitute.

He allegedly eked out an existence driving coaches, but died in 1866 aged 26. A ghostly coachman is sometimes seen diving furiously through the estate. It may be William.

John Ketton bought the hall in 1863. In 1969 his great-grandson Robert Wyndham Ketton-Cremer died unmarried and without an heir, bequeathing Felbrigg Hall to the National Trust.

Robert Wyndham Ketton-Cremer by Allan Gwynne-Jones, Felbrigg Hall

Finally, we descended to the servant’s realm. I love these huge old kitchens…

Kitchen, Felbrigg Hall

...but I am grateful it is not my job to make the copper gleam.

Copper pots, Felbrigg Hall kitchen

Outside it was exceedingly cold. After a week or two of pleasant sunshine, the clouds had reasserted themselves and with them the famously biting east wind. However, we had to spend some time exploring the grounds as the youngest member of the family had to complete the easter egg challenge.

That done, she insisted on visiting the walled garden. It is large as walled gardens go, but not at its best in early April.

Walled garden, Felbrigg Hall

As is traditional, espaliered fruit trees lined the walls, many of them varieties that have all but disappeared. This is an apple called D’Arcy Spice.

D'Arcy Spice apple tree, Felbrigg Hall

We then left and took the quicker ‘recommended route’ back to Hunstanton

The Food we Ate

Inevitably...  here is a section on the culinary delights and specialities that can be found almost everywhere by a diligent traveller. Happily I was surrounded by diligent travellers on this trip - and two more whose palates will mature soon enough.

Curating the Cheeseboard

Curating the cheeseboard is Siân’s self-imposed task. Nobody else, as far as I know, ‘curates’ a cheeseboard, but she takes it seriously, knows what she is doing and her cheeseboard expects the best.

A place for a curation

And this is how it looks when a curation has occurred. Three of these cheeses are from Norfolk, the fourth, at my request, is Baron Bigod, made just over the border in Suffolk.

A beautiful curation

Clockwise from 6 o’clock, the temporary residents are:-

Fen Fossey

Fen Fossey is made by Norfolk and Better, who are based in a farm in Thetford.  A small tomme-style cheese classed by the makers as semi-hard, though I would call it ‘hard.’ Smooth and herby with fruity and blue notes it offers a rich and complex flavour that develops on the palate.

Norfolk White Lady

Norfolk white lady was first produced in 1999 by Jane Murray at Whitewood Dairy, near Norwich, using the milk of her own flock of Friesland ewes. She was the first women in modern times to produce artisan cheeses in Norfolk and her Brie-style recipe produces a soft bloomy rind as snowy white as the ewes, hence the name. Jane Murray retired and Becky Enefer now makes White Lady at Wilton Farm, Hockwold.

It is not a strong cheese, but enjoyably subtle, buttery and sheep-y. With longer maturation, I read, it becomes richer and oozier.

Jiffler Blue

Blue Jiffler is a new cheese this year from Norfolk and Better. It is a semi-hard cheese, brined and aged to develop a natural rind and enhanced with a blue vein. It is mild and creamy with subtle hints of salt and herbs, but for me the 'blue' flavour is not strong enough. To ‘Jiffle’ is Norfolk dialect for ‘to fiddle or mess around,’ a reference to the constant movement of the cheese during maturation.

And finally, the sublime

Baron Bigod

Made at Fen Farm near Bungay, in Suffolk, Baron Bigod might be the best soft cheese in the world (see Eating Aldeburgh). This example was fully ripe, almost flowing and with a beguiling tang of the farmyard. Loved it.

Cromer Crab

The brown crab, Cancer pagurus is widely fished around the UK and Irish coasts. Those from the nutrient-rich waters of the chalk reef stretching along the Norfolk coast either side of Cromer (see map) are sold as Cromer crabs and are particularly sweet, delicate, and flavourful.

We bought ours from Gurney’s Fish Shop in Thornham, just outside Hunstanton. As we learned in Aldeburgh last year, the more derelict the shack, the better (and more expensive) their fish. (Siân’s view: artfully distressed, not derelict).

Gurney's Fish Shop, Thornham

We bought two dressed Cromer crabs, smoked prawns and some tiny brown shrimps. This, along with salad and crackers, and followed by the excellent cheeseboard provided the four adults with a first-class dinner without needing to cook. The grandchildren picked a bit, but unsurprisingly preferred more familiar offerings.

Dressed Cromer crab
The claw meat, white meat and dark meat have been extracted, chopped, artfully mixed and returned to the cleaned shell.

Fish and Chips

Inland fish and chips is almost entirely takeaway food, but the seaside is different. Restaurants attached to fish fryers have tidied themselves up in recent years, expanded their menus (a little) and some even have drinks licences.

Fish and Chip restaurant, Hunstanton

Expanded menu or not, Lynne and I chose traditional cod, chips and mushy peas. The cod was very fresh, the batter crisp and there were more chips than I could eat. Perfect.

Crisps

Having descended from the heights of artisan cheeses and Cromer crab, lets hit rock bottom with crisps. Siân has long collected (not curated!) unlikely crisp flavours. Four years ago in Ludlow she found three game flavours. This year the Grouse and Whinberry was back, joined by Spanish made Cretan Herb flavour and a French Confit d’Ognion avec Vinaigre Balsamique. We opened the Cretan Herbs. The best part of it was the drawing of a bull playing a balalaika on the packet.

Weird crisps

11-Apr-2025

Watatunga Safari

On Thursday we were up and packed early and drove 20 miles south, past Kings Lynn, towards the village of Watlington. Near the village, tucked round the back of an unsightly quarry, is Watatunga wildlife reserve.

Opened in 2020, Watatunga is 170 acres of diverse habitats, including woodland, grassland, wetlands, and lakes. Siân had hired a 6-seater electric buggy for a tour, allowing us to see as many of the birds and their 24 species of deer and antelopes as chose to show themselves.

We were a tad early, so had a look at the duckpond outside reception. Among others they have white-faced whistling-ducks, red-crested pochards and mandarin ducks,

A hiding mandarin duck, Watatunga

A 10 o’clock sharp we were seated in our buggy (James kindly volunteered to take the wheel) setting off in a small convoy behind a cheerful young woman with a walkie-talkie and a mission to explain.

She was keen to tell us about the reserve’s conservation work with both ungulates and birds. The first animals we saw (too distant to photograph) were hog deer, a small deer with an alleged pig-like gate when alarmed. Once they roamed northern India, Bangladesh, Myanmar and further south but are now endangered.

The water buffalo were closer. Numerous, they are domesticated throughout south Asia.

Water Buffalo, Watatunga

Next up was a wildebeest, again hardly rare and a herd animal, so one wildebeest is a sad sight.

Black Wildebeest, Watatunga

I am posting pictures of almost every animal we saw well enough to photograph - some stayed too far away while others we never saw (they are free to roam). Birds present the snapper with more problems than ungulates, but the green peafowl were very co-operative.

Green peafowl, Watatuga

Indian peafowl have settled in many countries and are common in India. The peacocks carry their enormous tail feathers which become tatty out of the breeding season and look a burden, presumably making life easy for predators. The Green peacock’s tail conveniently moults after mating but even so, it is green peafowl, who once ranged from Myanmar to Java who are endangered, not the Indian species.

Silver pheasants resemble ordinary pheasants iearing a long white coat. Originally from south east Asia, they have been introduced elsewhere and are plentiful.

Silver pheasant, Watatunga

Then we met Dave. Dave is a Great Bustard, sent here from Salisbury Plain where efforts are being made to re-establish a British population. Apparently believing he is an electric buggy, he regularly performs his courtship display to the convoy leader. Once rejected he walks down the rest of the line….

Dave the Great Bustard looks wistfully at an unresponsive buggy, Watatunga

…looking for a better offer. I wonder why he was surplus to requirements in Salisbury?

Undaunted he carries on down the line

A little further on were a couple of newly arrived Bongos, spectacularly striped antelopes from central Africa.

The mountain bongo, Waratunga

That ended our ‘safari.’ It had been an enjoyable 90 minutes, with some interesting animals and an informative and amusing guide. I wish them all the best with their conservation work.

And finally the name. Watatunga, they told us, is a portmanteau word, ‘Wat’ from the nearby village,’atunga’ from sitatunga, a close relative of the Bongo – and I thought Watatunga was a lake in New Zealand!

Then we said our goodbyes and made our different ways home.