Entrecote

It's practically our last day gallivanting about and having ticked off the majority of things on our to-do list then we have to pop over to Montpellier for the best ever steak and chips at Entrecote. We were lead to believe that there is an Entrecote in Manchester but it developed a bad reputation when a vegetarian turned up and left feeling very hungry. That might be a joke, I'm  not  sure (OK I am) but it has ceased to exist. There maybe one in London so I'll check it out when we're next there.

Carluccio's Harrogate

From time to time I fancy Eggs Benedict for breakfast and, whilst I can modestly claim to make a pretty good one myself (as long as Jan makes the foaming hollandaise), it's nice to have it made for you. I first came across the notion of going out to eat breakfast in the States and thought it was a great idea. It's less normal here in the UK and don't even think about it in France unless all you want is a coffee and croissant. So, when I saw that Carluccio's in Harrogate is open for breakfast and, better still, they will cook EB for you, we had to try it.
After suffering a very poor hollandaise sauce in another café in town I didn't have high expectations but this was surprisingly good. Not as good as Jan's but perfectly acceptable. Not only was my EB good but Jan had the works, Colazione Magnifica, and very good it was too.
'It's better than I could make at home,' she said, 'excellent.'
My breakfast came quite quickly which made me a tad suspicious so I asked the waiter (they are all very pleasant and polite) whether the hollandaise is bought or made fresh.
'I don't know,' he said, 'I'll check with the kitchen.'
After a few minutes he came back, 'we buy it in,' he said. You know what, it was what I expected, because having to listen to Jan whinge when she makes it I suspected that it hadn't just been made. This admission meant they went up in my estimation. An inferior run place would have lied and it felt good that they weren't trying to pull the wool. Top marks all round.

A fun day

That was an interesting day. Jan and I don't really have an anniversary so she we celebrate the day she was lucky enough to first set eyes on me.
That was seventeen years ago yesterday, so as a treat we went to eat at The Star Inn in Harome. And jolly good it was too.
On the drive over I happened to mention that I fancied eating game for a change and, as befits a thatched restaurant cottage in deepest Yorkshire, that's what I had. My risotto starter with locally shot pheasant was absolutely delightful, not cheap, though they offer a set three course meal for £25, the meal was excellent, beautifully cooked and served. They also offer wines by the glass at lunch time which is useful.
This is a top end restaurant and aims to please. Recommended.
Then, it was on to York to see a comedian at the Barbican but not before driving past Castle Howard and Lidl. Lidl because they are selling whole cooked lobster for £5.99 each and we wanted some for New Year.
With a couple of hours to spare we headed into York town centre and headed straight to M&S, where else? And now comes the most surprising part of the day.
Just outside M&S is a Halifax Bank and it was there that I queued behind three ladies as one of them drew money from the ATM. My turn came but before I could put my card in it spewed a receipt obviously intended for one of the ladies. I looked around but they had disappeared. Being the nosey type I looked at the receipt and what it showed made me shout 'bloody hell.' The lady had drawn out £100 but the account balance showed £49,370.38.

TO WHOM IT MAY CONCERN

Would the extremely attractive lady who withdrew cash from the Halifax Bank at 16.52 in central York on Friday 22nd November please contact me because I have the receipt that she forgot to pick up. Yours lovingly, an ardent fan and admirer. Alex.

Crafts for Christmas

I must admit I wasn't looking forward to it. Crafts for Christmas was booked by Jan some time ago and I expected it to be a couple of hours of looking at stuff that would appeal to the knit your own yogurt brigade.
We managed to park close to the entrance which is always a bonus at The Yorkshire Showground and it was only a short walk to the exhibition hall, so that was an immediate and welcome bonus. What in fact it was, was a huge indoor Christmas market with all sorts of stuff for sale. Some expensive but the majority not and an excellent place to pick up ideas. Not at all what I expected.
Then, as it was lunchtime, we popped into Fodder, right next door, to see if we could get a bite to eat. As well as their usual choice, they offered the most enormous Sunday lunch with a choice of beef, pork or lamb and a huge Yorkshire pud and veg. Excellent value, we'll be back.

How to treat a girl

Friends emailed the other day to ask if we fancied The Malton Food Festival. It was only about an hour away and the website looked interesting so off we went. For various reasons we chose the second day and very nice it was too, especially as the first day it poured down. Anyway, it was warm and sunny when we went.
The place was packed, probably because the weather the previous day was a bit miserable but despite this it was an interesting and tasty experience. Recommended.
To show what foodies we are, after watching an advert on television, I mentioned to Jan that I fancied a Sausage and Egg McMuffin.
'You know what?' she said, 'so do I.' So that was it, from the exoctic variety of food in one location, to the other tasty and cheap end at McDonalds. I really know how to treat a girl!

Wing Yip

I know it's sad, but I have a mild fascination with Chinese supermarkets. We had a good one in France, Mont Asie in Nîmes, where Jan could get all the oriental stuff that was difficult if not impossible to find elsewhere. As it happens I'm into dim sum at the moment so with that in mind we headed off to Manchester (yeah this is serious) to visit Wing Yip and have a spot of lunch in the intimate 'Glamorous Restaurant', that only seats 400 people. The plan was to eat early with friends and as we approached the resto at 11.45 you could see that it was already very busy. Traditionally they serve dim sum at lunch time and this was right up my street. As the trolleys, laden with steam baskets, come around you chose what you think you might like with the aid of descriptive little menus for non chinese speakers. Generally we did well.

Downstairs is a huge supermarket, well laid out, clean and well lit, where you can get a vast variety of oriental stuff. Excellent. Central Manchester is not as far as you might think from us, taking just 1 hour 35 minutes because it's motorway all the way.
It is, after all, the year of the snake and as this is Jan's favourite description of me it all seemed quite appropriate.
When we got home, whilst reading the Sunday Times Rich List, I noted that Wing Yip is a multi millionaire. It's no wonder, he's done well.

A mystery

I was in a bit of a strange mood this morning so when Jan asked me what I wanted for breakfast I said, 'That nice seeded toast that you buy,' and, in quite a snide voice, 'some nice thick cut full blown marmalade.' Knowing full well that she prefers some thin cut rubbish from Tesco.
Well, blow me down, she took my breath away, she produced a small delicate looking jar, with a fancy velvet lid of beautiful looking marmalade. Exactly what I wanted.
Where the hell had that been hiding? Looking at the label produced even more intrigue. It was made by Le Manoir Aux'Quat Saisons, an establishment that not even in my heady expense account days could I have justified frequenting. 
So, when had she been there and with whom? And how come I didn't notice? When I questioned her all I got was a small smile with the comment, 'you wanted a thick cut marmalade and that's what you've got.'
The plot thickens.

Back and forth over the Pennines

Having been really disappointed with the tat of the 'christmas market' in Harrogate the other weekend we set off to explore the Dickensian market in Grassington.
As there was no parking in Grassington itself, we used the park and ride some four miles away. When you saw the number of cars queuing to get into the car park you could see why they'd organised it. It was quite a good market with many people dressed in period costumes and a reasonable range of stalls. We got there about 10.30 am and by 12.30 we'd had enough but not before I'd scoffed that old Yorkshire standby, a kangaroo burger. As we left, literally hundreds of people were pouring into the village so we left just in time.
Then, not being satisfied with one trip over the Pennines, the following day we met friends for lunch near Skipton at the Tempest Arms. What a busy place and the food ain't bad either. I started with Yorkshire puddings and onion gravy and frankly could have stopped after working my way through three huge puddings. This was followed by a smoked duck combo which was also very good. Recommended.

It's where?

About once a week we call in on my mother and either make or take her for lunch. Today we went to Fodders just outside Harrogate. It's a shop (delicatessen) and restaurant that specialises in Yorkshire food and very good it is too. Though I struggle to understand where Arborio rice, Maille mustard, Manchego cheese and a host of other foreign stuff fits into a Yorkshire theme.
Anyway, there's always a queue to get into the restaurant and the group in front had been waiting for a long time. Several other groups had been seated before them. It was half term so there were lots of families and this one was particularly big.
As we were being seated (before them), I said to one of the fathers, "I bet it wasn't your idea to try and get a table for eleven at half term?"
He smiled, rolled his eyes and agreed.
The food and service are always good and Jan wanted a glass of wine with her meal and I noticed that they had Yorkshire wine by the glass (I kid you not) and patriotically decided to try it. Big mistake! They make lots of good things in God's own country but wine isn't one of them.
We weren't surprised when mum preferred what we were eating over her own choice. She always does. I had a huge, manly steak sandwich and mum looked envious despite the fact that I knew she wouldn't be able to chew it properly.
I always know when she's not completely happy because she said that the next time we'd eat elsewhere.
She suggested the Tiger Inn near Knaresborough, not one we'd been to before.
"Where is it mum?" I said.
"I can't remember," she said, "it's either on the Ripon Road or the York Road and then you turn left."
"That narrows it down to about 100 square miles," I said unhelpfully "but we'll check it out and go there next time."
Such a helpful, loving son!

The place to be

This photo of Ripon is courtesy of TripAdvisor


I'd love to say that we planned it, for us things don't really work out that way, but here's further proof that Ripon is the place to be.
I must add a rider in that I usually hate the 50 best lists of anything but this one has a ring of truth.
Take a look at this. In a list of of the 50 Best Cheap Eats in the UK, according to the Independent, there are two mentioned in Ripon. We've eaten at one of them and will now try the other and I could add one or two more. It's probably because, amongst the landed gentry in this area (don't forget that Downton Abbey was set here), there are lots of skint foodies floating around but there you go.
Guess which category we fit into?

On the road to Damascus

We're having an expensive excellent lunch at The Malt Shovel with my mother and I was looking at Jan with my reading glasses perched on the end of my nose.
"You have a spurious look of intelligence," she said.
Given that we were celebrating my upcoming birthday I thought that, no matter how true, it was a rather cutting remark. But not being one to take offence too easily we chatted about others that share my birth date.
The thing that winds me up the most, that gets my goat, is having to 'share' it with Robbie Bloody Burns. A so called Scottish poet that writes unintelligible drivel, who nobody in England has ever studied (because it's rubbish) but which lots of English seem happy to celebrate with Scottish exiles wherever they are. The haggis, the piper, the toast, it's all total bollocks and has got nothing whatsoever to do with English people.
Anyway, apropos of nothing, my mother interrupted my rant by reminding anyone who would listen (which wasn't many) that it was also a celebration of the Conversion of St Paul. As my mother is rather elderly and I haven't had the heart to mention that I'd converted to atheism, I bit my tongue, avoided a rant, (I thought at that stage that she might be going to pay for lunch) but couldn't resist a "what's that got to do with anything," comment?
I'm not paranoid but it seems like the whole world is against me.

OK, what's the answer

It's been a long time since either of us has been on a 'works outing' but that's just changed, and we're not just talking about a coach trip to Blackpool either.
Despite being 'very part-time', we were very kindly invited to dinner at the excellent Malt Shovel in Brearton by the proprietor of the kennels we hardly work at.
Not only was there an excellent dinner but it also happened to be pub quiz night and carols, accompanied by a small brass band (what else, it is Yorkshire after all), around the huge Christmas tree outside.
Now, Jan and I being a little competitive, are rather partial to a pub quiz, which, when you add back all the half points deducted by a miserly quiz master, we won. Well, OK, our table won. Jan's good for literature (books and that), cooking and knitting and I'm good for sport, science and life's deeper problems and we're both useless at, as it's politely known, popular culture (ie bloody Eastenders and modern music).
So if your team needs 'beefing up' in the intellectual department give us a call. Our rates are very modest (unlike you - Ed).

Itsara again

Le Touquet-Paris-Plage, to give it its full name, is a very attractive town. You approach through a ‘forest’ of pine trees with expensive looking holiday homes nestling within the trees. It’s also quite an expensive town with most of the shops selling high end designer gear. The buildings are generally very attractive and, as befits a seaside town, very white.
Jan feels very comfortable here as befits a woman from the posh south but your scraggy arsed correspondent from Yarkshire thinks ‘this lot have got more money than sense.’
I like a bargain (but then who doesn't?) and I like space so we checked back in to the above B&B  but this time into the Delhi Suite. In some ways it was nicer than Marrakesh which we stayed in on the way down. The suite was just as big but a little lighter but with it being on the first floor there is no access to the garden. Recommended.
However, the real reason for stopping in Le Touquet (we had to stay somewhere in either France or southern England) was to eat at Perard which is one of the few places where I would always try to eat fish. They offer a big selection of marine life most of which doesn't interest me (like bulots and oysters) but they also cook fish simply which is how I like it.
They've been doing it for a long time and the place is always full (we couldn't get in last time) so another 'recommended.'
We have one final stop to make, in Harpenden, this lunchtime, before we arrive back in God's own country this evening and see the dogs again tomorrow. Yippee.

The best of Yarkshire

Whilst it has been pouring down in t'south, the weather here, in God's own country, has been glorious. So much so that we ventured out for a little drive up Nidderdale this morning but not before we explored another part of Fountains Abbey.
The traditional entrance to the Abbey involves quite a long walk, so, I was looking for something a little less strenuous, (what with Jan's war wound and all), and found a really spectacular approach in a different direction to normal.
Anyway, job done, it was then off to Pateley Bridge because after a delightful gift of Lancashire cheese from my new cheese supplier yesterday (thanks Ivan), I'd developed a yearning for a beef and onion pie from our award winning favourite pie shop.
"I've been dreaming about these pies," I said to the pie man.
"Things that bad?" said the pie man in his laconic Yorkshire drawl.
As I giggled I said to my beloved, "shall we eat the goodies down in the park?"
"Nah," she said, "let's go to the Sportsman Arms for lunch and have them this evening."
So we did.
All in all a very, very nice day.

Holly and Alan

The whole purpose of the last few day in London was to attend what many guests thought was a birthday party. Our friend Holly's 50th birthday party, but it was in fact going to be a surprise wedding. Let me explain.
A whole bunch of people had been invited to a 'party' at Mosimanns in Belgravia.
Mosimanns, which is an exclusive private members dining club, as you may or may not know, catered the evening meal at Buckingham Palace after the marriage between Kate and Wills, (so you see I now have a royal connection).
The other surprising fact is that you can get married at Mosimanns, so Alan's idea was to propose to Holly during the 'party' and they would then get married.
I was given the honour of being 'best man', the whole thing worked like a treat and was such good fun. Only a handful of us were in on the secret and if I've been 'out of sorts' recently I must admit that I was a little nervous at having to give a speech to a group that included a very prominent former cabinet minister.
Anyway, as you would expect, the food was outstanding and another fabulous treat was that throughout the wedding, and the party after, we were entertained by 'Tenors Un Limited.' God they were good.
When the party entered 'the chapel' at the top of the building, for the wedding ceremony, as a total surprise, the tenors sang the duet from 'The Pearl Fishers.' This was hair on the back of your neck stuff.
Throughout the rest of the party, at various break points during the meal, they sang a mixture of opera and more recent fun songs. They were so, so good, so entertaining. What a very clever idea.
A fabulous, memorable day and a public heartfelt thanks to Alan and Holly.

My best friend Rupe

Wednesday evening, after aperos at the Ritz, (sorry Craig but this is how you do it), we headed off to Sheeky's for a fish supper (Jan calls it dinner).
Now, I'm not talking about a fish supper a la Wetherby Whaler here (as good as it is), but one of the best fish restaurants in London. Yummy.
As usual, Jan let me down by talking so loudly at the Ritz that she put the guy on the next table off his cream team (at seven in the evening - silly prat) but she behaved in an exemplary fashion at Sheekys that is until Rupert Everett sat at the next table to us.
Now, my friend AJ, who is not afraid of anything or anybody, asked Rupe (as we now know him) to join us for drinks, and he obliged. What a lovely man (eat your heart out Craig). Jan was in seventh heaven. Her hero, from 'My Best Friends Wedding,' chatted to her and kissed her hand. Needless to say she ignored me for the rest of the evening.
What's he got that I haven't got, apart from very good looks, a film star persona and a shed load of money?
Just don't see it myself.

Yo! Sushi

We were out and about the other night and had to chose what to eat. The choice was either Thai or sushi. Given that we can have a good Thai with a trip to Harrogate we decided on sushi.
So Yo Sushi it was. I love the ability to chose lots of different dishes and so does Jan. It's one of the reasons why tapas is so appealing.
It's a bit of an acquired taste but we love Japanese food. The dishes move around the room on a little conveyor belt. The belt passes your table allowing you to look at what's on offer and chose what you fancy. You can also order hot food but we were happy with the cold dishes.
I stuffed my face. Luverly.

The Yorke Arms

Only when I was 'on expenses', many years ago, did I ever eat in Michelin starred restaurants.
Apart from a couple of experiences in France, in the last 10 years we've never eaten in one and certainly not in England. Today that changed.
Jan's eldest, Ben, and wife Paula, are visiting from Barcelona and, having watched The Trip over there, they decided that a visit to The Yorke Arms was in order.
As it's nearby and as we are still waiting for more visitors to arrive, a small group made the visit much more financially viable (if visits to Michelin starred restaurants could ever be described as financially viable).
Anyway, the weather was promising to be the best of the next few days so a trip into the countryside was going to be combined with this experience. Neither Ben nor Paula nor their daughter, the delightful Kate, had ever ventured this far north before so we were determined to show off the area to the best of our ability.
I know and love the Nidd valley having been introduced to it when I was a youngster by my Uncle Harry, who was born in Lofthouse.
Both Jan and I have visited the Sportsmans Arms several times, which is just down the road, but this was a first for The Yorke Arms.
I must admit that I was a bit worried because we were going with a three years old and a baby to the sort of establishment where you would normally find peace and quiet. Their presence was no problem for the restaurant and the children were obviously welcomed. That took a lot of pressure off the visit. However we needn't have worried because the behaviour of both the children was exemplary. Luke because he was asleep and Kate because she is used to sitting en famille for her meals.
The set price lunch was £35 per head with a choice from three for each of the three courses. I started with a duck and foie gras terrine, followed by venison and finished with a plate of several different chocolate deserts. The others all chose different things and there was nothing but pleasant grunting noises all round the table throughout the meal. Absolutely fabulous. With two bottles of wine the bill for four was £150. Obviously a place for special occasions. Very highly recommended.
After that we headed home but not before we bought pies for dinner in Pateley Bridge and explored Brimham Rocks. A fabulous day.

Obsessions 2

That's it. I've given up.
During the search for an Italian newspaper we've tried the railway station, the main W H Smith in Leeds and various other news kiosks, with no luck.
As Craig said the only option is to look at the papers on a computer but somebody with more patience than me is going to have to try that route.
The actual reason we were in Leeds was to get some Thai basil and a few other oriental goodies for Jan. She knows that I'm very fussy about my penang curry and that it will be sent back to the kitchen if it's made without the proper ingredients.
A quick search found Tai Lee Hong Cash and Carry in Leeds. What a good find. It had everything she needed and more. A few quids later we set off for our next little treat.
But first, let me explain. We're having a week off (every week is a week off for you two - Ed). We originally had guests scheduled for this week and our kennels did us a very big favour by squeezing the dogs in. Subsequently, our visitors couldn't come but rather than let the kennels down we decided to spend some time without them, not having to worry that we'd be back in time to look after them and do things that we wouldn't normally do.
Back to the next treat. We'd promised ourselves a meal at Mumtaz and as we were in Leeds this was the time to do it. Our expectations were very high, having read good things, and we found the place down by the Clarence dock complex in Leeds.
As we entered the restaurant we were blown away by the opulence. It was huge, decorated in black and silver with marble floors. The ultimate in bling. Excellent.
We were however a little disappointed with the menu. We were expecting something really special but we found just a list of the old favourites. In itself no bad thing but our expectation was different.
What was good however was the cooking.  The dishes were obviously prepared and cooked to a much higher standard than you would expect from a curry house and elements of it were quite amazing. The bill was very reasonable and we left a happy couple. Recommended.

Obsessions

It all started with an obsession. You know, those little challenges that keep thwarting you and that keep niggling away until you get control.
Yesterday's challenge was to find an Italian newspaper for my aged Uncle Dino. He speaks no English and just likes to immerse himself with a newspaper when all around him becomes incomprehensible. Living with Jan, I know how he feels (you're a dead man - Ed).
Anyway I was racking my brains as to where to look. We'd tried the obvious, like W H Smiths and we'd even visited Manchester airport last Sunday (what a dump that was), then I had a brainwave. What about the airport in Leeds or better still there was bound to be Italians working at Salvo's restaurant, fairly near to the airport, and they would know.
Nada at the airport (the young Asian girl looked at me as if I was stupid), so it was off to Salvo's where we could get the information and some decent nosh as well. The place was packed.
First the food. I've been visiting this place on and off since they first opened in 1976. It had a good reputation from day one and appears to have maintained it ever since.
We shared a fritto misto to start with which was excellent and then we both had a pizza, which we both really enjoyed. The best pizza base I've had since eating pizza in Italy.
All washed down with a bottle of Falanghina. Recommended.
Now for the information. I asked Bartek our server (that was the first clue) if I could speak to an Italian.
'There is only one Italian working here,' he said, 'because the boss is on holiday. He makes the coffee and I'll get him.'
After a quick chat I got a little further with my quest for a newspaper.
So there you have it, if you want an Italian newspaper in England, forget it and if you would like an Italian waiter in an Italian restaurant. Forget that as well. Things have changed since we've been away.