Tuesday, 21 July 2009
The saturday ramble
My mate Kirsty K and I have totally embraced the English pastime of rambling. Not so much walking poles and maps wrapped in plastic as the joy of taking a very long stroll to a country pub for dinner.
One Saturday a little while back we took a train to Guildford in Hampshire then ambled through field, farm and forest to Liss. We enjoyed a halfway break at the Hawkley Arms getting smashed on the local cider but feared a come down deep in the woods so took the precaution of carrying four more pints in milk bottles to tide us over till we reached the next pub. Part two of the ramble was a bit woozy then but still remarkably beautiful; bright yellow canola fields and wooded tracks carpeted with pretty and pungent baby shoots of wild garlic.
When we finally got to Liss some seven hours after we set off, we were dozy and starving. I can't remember the name of the pub we stumbled into but the food was brilliant (in our experience the country pub kitchen can be a bit hit and miss if it is open at all). In that moment, a big bowl of mushrooms in a cheesy, mustardy, creamy sauce topped with buttery crumbs was the best thing I ever ate.