This is a much maligned beer, with many beer snobs writing it off almost immediately for being weak (3.6%), in a can and from such a mainstream brewery. That said, this same beer (on draft) was champion beer of Britain (Bitter category) and silver overall in 2004. Some people were so horrified by this that they threw their CAMRA cards out of their prams at the time. Personally I rather like it!
We went to meet some friends for lunch and a wander at Waddesdon Manor, a National Trust property near Aylesbury, about halfway between us in St Albans and them in Birmingham. We're all NT members so it's completely free to park and get in!
It's a bit of a strange place in that it's one of the most opulent and well looked after NT houses I've been to. Perhaps there is some private money in play too – courtesy of the Rothschild's – that web link above is not a National Trust website, though they have their own page on the place as well. Strange.
We didn't explore that much of it this time (we've been there once before) since we had our friends' giggling young one in tow. But we did see the front garden (driveway, grass, trees, sadly dry fountain) and the back (mountainous flower-beds and pleasant water features overlooking distant countryside – see pictures) and the inside (no photos allowed) and the Stables for lunch.
Last time we visited, we ate in the fancy kitchen restaurant and I had the most wonderful duck ever, along with a cracking glass of red. This time we went for the family option in the Stables restaurant and though the service was a bit slipshod and the glasses dirty, the food was really surprisingly good.
Right from the start I’ll point out that God Lager is Swedish for good lager, though the rear label makes plenty of hints that this is in fact a divine beverage. I bought it from Waitrose purely because it looked a little unorthodox on the shelf and seemed to promise something that it could surely never live up to.
And frankly it didn’t. This is a fairly straightforward lager in pretty much every sense, though it has a very fine bubble (in fact it almost seemed flat) that gives it a somewhat classy feel, but only just. Maybe it only achieves perfection in being the perfect example of average, unassuming lager? Even if it is, I need something with a bit more flavour to get excited about. Still – credit to the Nils Oscar Company’s marketing department for a good gimmick.
I picked up a paperback copy of this book from the River Cottage open day a couple of months back. We queued for a good long while to get my wife’s big new Hugh cookery book signed, but I didn’t trouble him with my less significant purchase. I later discovered that it was signed inside the front cover anyway. Obviously he was taking no chances!
I also discovered that it wasn’t quite what I thought it was. Not for the first time, I had failed to notice that this is a collection of previous scribblings by the floppy haired foodie, from various Sunday supplements and trendy lifestyle magazines. Jeremy Clarkson pulled the same trick on me a couple of years back. Thing is, they don’t go out of their way to make it clear just what you’re buying, choosing the words on the cover oh so cleverly, to be accurate but not quite clue you in if you didn’t already know. I find this ironic since a lot of the book consists of Hugh pouring forth with righteous indignation about all the commercial dishonesty out there in the food business.
The first chapter is actually a bit wearing as Hugh lays it on extremely thick, making and re-making the same simple points over and over again about McDonalds and their ilk. It got a bit tiresome and I very nearly gave up entirely. However I persevered and it got better from there on, though the whole volume is still preachy and sometimes patronising. That said, yesterday I bought Waitrose’ organic cheddar even though it was 10p per kilo more expensive that the normal stuff, which is no doubt made out of cigarette butts and arsenic, with old AA membership cards ground up and added for colour. Actually I bet it’s exactly the same bar the packaging. So Hugh’s taught me two things there: to search out decent ingredients with good provenance; and to maintain an unhealthy level of cynicism and suspicion at all times.
Overall it’s a good book that I’d recommend for anyone that likes Hugh to start with and just likes good food writing. The best bits of the book are the gastronomic exotica that the cover promises and Hugh’s excellent style, full of wit and anecdote and very giving of himself. He does go on about brains a lot though.
A recently hectic calendar has meant no time to go to the supermarket, which isn't such a bad thing as it has shown us the back of our kitchen cupboards for the first time in a while. As we chomp through the ancient stocks a few surprises have come to light. One such was Astronaut Ice Cream, given to me as a Xmas present a year or two ago, but still good till December 2010 if you believe the foil sachet. And yes, this was in the cupboard, not the freezer.
It's real ice cream, but freeze dried, so all the water has been removed. I expected to find a powder to which I'd add water for some surreally room temperature ice creamy experience, but no. Inside the feather light pack (contents: 19g) is a single slice of Neapolitan ice cream. It looks like ice cream, but it's completely dry and crisp, with the texture of a really fine, dense foam. And apparently it's "ready to eat" as is.
So I snapped off a piece (actually the block was somewhat shattered to start with) trying not to get shards of ice cream in my eye and popped it in my mouth. It's crunchy to start with, but very quickly turns to dust which immediately combines with the saliva in your mouth to become something like ice cream. However the airy texture has been lost and there's only so much saliva in your mouth, so it's denser and perhaps pastier than the real thing. That said, it tastes the part – no doubt about it. I wonder if freezing the block to start with would add to the ice-creamy experience or just make it weirder.
I can see how the weight saving and longevity of freeze-drying are handy for trips into space, but the astronaut will still need to consume the same total quantity of water so I would have thought that vacuum packed hydrated food would take up less space overall and just be outright nicer. In fact paraphrasing from Wikipedia's article although freeze-dried ice cream was developed on request, it wasn't that popular, and was only taken into space once on Apollo 7 in 1968." It was a good present though and a conversation starter.
Ever so slightly cloudy but virbantly coloured beer – like egg yolk almost.
A somewhat bitter, thirst-quenching summer brew. With the terrible summer having run out of what steam if had, that’s probably why it was a pound a bottle in Sainsburys. Hints of honey perhaps, though hard to tie down.
Very pleasant indeed – it’s a shame I’ve only just discovered it as the summer weakly waves goodbye.
I spotted this beer at a pound a bottle in Sainsbury’s so grabbed a couple as it sounded really different. It describes itself as being made with wheat and barley malts (rather than just barley as is normal), fermented with honey then conditioned for six months with spices – though it doesn’t say which spices!
I thought it might be similar to a continental wheat beer – cloudy white with hints of spice – but it’s definitely its own style of beer. It’s a very rich amber and almost entirely clear. The flavour is quite deep, bitter and smoky with a slightly burnt malt flavour reminiscent of a stout. The spice just leaves a subtle, lingering flavour in the mouth.
At 6% ABV and with a real depth of colour and flavour it’s not a ‘light’ beer in any sense. It’s almost a winter warmer, but I hadn’t twigged that until I’d poured it to accompany the grand prix qualifying mid-afternoon. Still, I quite like it and it was well priced, even for a 330ml bottle, so cheers!