A Food Journey!

The BMW was dropped off on Friday evening – he was a very nice gentleman whose appearance might have led you to mistake him for Sherlock Holmes (minus the pipe). It was a lovely car, he said, and the fuel tank was brimming full. “Shame it’s not a 120” said J – never satisfied with anything with four wheels (unless it’s Porsche, that is). Actually, it was a 1.8 Diesel Sport - not brand new (about a year old). J said this was probably its last outing from before BMW sold it off to one of its dealers. At least it was going to have a nice send-off!

So, lets get the bit about the car done first: I was a bit put-off at first with all the “gizmos”. I couldn’t even start it and felt a right idiot. Apparently you have to put the “key” (by which I mean the bit of plastic) into the hole (why is it on the LEFT side of the steering wheel?), then, holding down the clutch pedal, push in the button (again on the left). There were no prompts on the dash to help you decipher this. Not very user-friendly. Do BMW really expect people to get the handbook out just to learn how to start the car? On the plus side, it handles very nicely – especially on the many winding country lanes of Lincolnshire. And it was very quiet on the motorway (although I desperately missed my Golf’s cruise-control (I know, I’m spoilt)). It has very “long legs” – i.e. I found the engine struggled not to labour doing 40mph in 6th gear so it was easy to forget about 6th and stay in the lower gears when driving around town. It’s strange that BMW gave the 118 6 gears when it didn’t really need them. I would have liked to have driven the 120 just to experience the difference and maybe a tiptronic gearbox would have been a better option (all at extra cost of course). I found the radio controls infuriating – too many buttons that were impossible to make sense of. And actually the sound quality was a bit crap! It was the same for other dashboard buttons e.g. the air con. Intrigued by the button called “Rest” (was this the button I could press to fall asleep at the wheel?) I looked it up in the handbook: this would allow warm air to circulate even when the ignition was off, for example when waiting at a railway crossing (!) Wow, can’t wait to use that function (not)! Although, admittedly in a freezing cold Germany, I can imagine it comes in very useful. The boot space is too small to be practical, J assures me the run-flat tyres did not allow the best handling performance and the overall fuel consumption was about 45mpg (about 10mpg less than my 1.9 Golf). In conclusion then – even if I could afford one of these – I think I’d pass – on this model at least…

Anyway, to continue with the interesting bit - the actual food experience (see below for an explanation), our first destination was the Abbey Parks Farm Shop at East Heckington. After a foggy drive up to Lincolnshire, we had a welcome cuppa and met the friendly and enthusiatic owners, Ros and Nick. They bought the farm a few years ago and now have an excellent reputation for their asparagus which does particularly well on the fertile, salty, sandy earth here. Nick runs a vegetable whole-sale business which delivers to famous chefs all over the country, including Ramsey’s Ivy, Jamie Oliver’s and the more local Langar Hall (which we were to visit for lunch the next day - see below). We had a really interesting tour of the farmland and filled our boot with veggies (including asparagus of course – but not local as it is too early) and a lovely bunch of local daffs (thanks Nick). Then it was off to next venue – the Cheese Society in Lincoln for lunch.

For those unfamiliar with Lincoln, it is a bit of a strange place to visit. Parts of it are architecturally amazing with lots of medieval houses and narrow cobbled streets dominated by the cathedral which sits high above the city. I suppose I’m being unfair in contrasting it to somewhere like Canterbury – its location means that economically Lincoln has a completely different atmosphere. The outskirts are very industrial. There are hundreds of charity shops and pound shops in the centre and the numbers of boarded-up shops and houses immediately brings you down to earth. Don’t get me wrong – it’s a lovely city and the high street was buzzing when we were there on a Saturday morning. We weren’t really surprised to find the Cheese Society hidden away in a side street. This is exactly the location that you find authentic, good value, contemporary eating places. We hadn’t booked a table and had to wait about half an hour – but we didn’t mind. Lots of other places in the town were empty – this was the place to be! Behind the tiny reception area was the shop and in contrast to the disadvantaged environment of the surrounding area we witnessed at least 4 people spending between £20-45 just on cheese during those few minutes. It was fascinating to watch the different tastings and the subsequent expressions! One thing that did strike us as odd – why not have a few bits of cheese for people to try while they were waiting? What a lost opportunity (or maybe they do offer something to waiting diners and we just missed it). Anyway, we sat in the little café area for a cheesy lunch. Everything is simple, cheap and functional: laminate floors; glasses from IKEA and metal framed bistro tables and chairs. It’s simply the cheese that draws people in – there is no view of the cathedral or fancy ambience here. I had a seafood and cheese on toast thingy: ‘Croque Marinara’ and J had a handmade burger (with cheese of course). All very nice. It was a shame we were driving really – there were lots of locals with bottles of wine (very reasonable prices) to go with theirs which made me kinda jealous - especially the couple who had dismissed the lunch menu in favour of (the enormous) cheeseboard for two. (Maybe this was a premonition of things to come ….)
Anyway, we had about £20 to spend at the cheese counter and after queuing-up again, we managed (as you can imagine) to spend it all- plus £1.50, (interestingly she didn’t let us off this) on a selection of local cheeses: Smoked Lincolnshire Poacher, Colston Bassett Stilton and Red Leicester etc. We spoke to the owner, who admitted that she did need bigger premises to cope with the numbers of customers – and was looking around. “It was difficult to anticipate the level of success they had enjoyed” she said.

Onwards and Northwards, next stop the Pink Pig Organic Farm towards the coast road. This place is really in the middle of nowhere (thank God for Sat Nat)! We got there about 4ish and there was only one other car in the car park. They closed at 5pm and the staff were all busy cleaning-up after what must’ve been a busy lunchtime service. Everyone was very friendly. All the usuals were on the blackboard (roasts and chillis) including lots of declarations about “all our eggs are free-range and organic” and “all our milk is local”. Through the glass doors is the deli shop with lots of meat and (more cheese) and honey and cakes and eggs and biscuits etc. etc. Unfortunately, we couldn’t see the pigs as “they had gone to bed” (!) but we promised to return in the summer to see the farm trail in all its glory. The shop there is really inspiring and full of lovely things. We bought some sausages (of course) and some of their famous well-hung local beef.

Now the evening was drawing-in (it was the night the clocks went forward) and we headed-off for our final destination for the day – Winteringham Fields (see my previous entry, below).

The next morning, after (the small) breakfast, it was a clear day and we decided to drive the couple of miles to Barton to see the Humber before driving to our final food tour destination of Langar Hall in Langar, Nottinghamshire. We met some interesting people setting-out for a walk along the Viking Way (everyone is so friendly in this county), and discovered one lady whose sister coincidentally lives very near to us. After the usual “small world” comments (why does that always happen to us?) we took a drive around the area before heading out onto the main road in search of lunch.

Langar Hall is an unexpected place. We read about how the owner, Imogen, had taken reluctantly to being an hotelier in an attempt to maintain her aging mansion house. The house itself is striking in its Georgian style the exterior of which is brightly painted, reminiscent of Italy. It is right next to the village church and Langar itself is a very picturesque place with a pub and a few individual ancient houses, interspersed with modern ones. “Better put my jacket on” said J as we pulled into gravelled car park and saw the other (quality) cars, all with personalised number-plates and their glamorous, smartly-dressed owners. This place is obviously a well-kept secret for those in-the-know. We felt like we were entering a secret, private member-only club. But as soon as you walk into Langar Hall the atmosphere is relaxed, well-worn and homely. There are ten bedrooms at various places around the grounds and two dining rooms. There were lots of staff rushing around, all different nationalities. We were invited into the lounge area which led to the stylish new conservatory. It overlooks the beautiful, scenic land which surrounds the grand house. Like the interior, it all had a well-worn and un-maintained look about it and the resident sheep (Langar lamb on the menu) shared their field with strangely lifelike metal sculptures of ostriches and ducks. The Sommelier was reassuringly French – in fact you could tell that without him even speaking a word (if you know what I mean). Then suddenly Imogen herself appeared, rushing through the lounge rooms, grey hair flying around, carrying a warmed baby’s bottle and shouting in her upper-class accent “Where’s the baby? I’ve lost the baby”! The crazy scenes from Alice in Wonderland came to mind. The sommelier, with an air of weary frustration rolled his eyes and told her they were seated at the top table -but she smiled and immediately lost interest in her duty, using the excuse to introduce herself to the pre-dinner guests. You actually got the feeling this was a private house party and she was our host - a much-loved auntie. Dinner was wonderful, the menu is crammed with simple dishes made with local produce and the service was efficient (a little too efficient maybe?) and even the other guests were fascinating. For instance, to our left was a large young family that included the ‘lost’ baby. To our right was a table of young people: one Indian lady in full sari, one coloured guy and two other ladies; in the centre was a table of retired gentleman (blazers and ties) and beyond them three glamous, tall people dressed in jeans, furs, leathers and large sunglasses, who Imogen had great pleasure in explaining (with some pride) were famous transvestite models. You couldn’t imagine a more surreal dining room experience. But there was no uncomfortable atmosphere or whispers that you might expect at other venues like this. Imogen's eyes, within the faces of her ancestors, smiled down on the bizarre scene from the enormous, ancient oil portraits that surrounding us. This is a unique place where eccentricity (something Imogen has obviously become well-rehearsed in) is warmly welcomed, if not encouraged and this meant everyone felt very relaxed. This must be the secret to her success.

After lunch we had a stroll round the satisfyingly unkempt garden which included some (real) ducks on a semi-landscaped circular medieval 'pond' that represented a moat with a small wooden bridge. The sun was shining and this really is an unspoilt area with beautiful surrounding countryside. At the end of our East Midlands Food Tour, reluctantly we headed back home in our little BMW, with our little fridge full of goodies and lots of leaflets of places we would undoubtedly be visiting again. Langar Hall is definitely top of the list.

With many thanks to BMW's Good Food Ride guide and especially to Laura and the team at The Fish Can Sing for making all the arrangements and recommendations.