I’ve just added the first book to my Books to Drool Over - one of many that have influenced me and the way I bake and cook.

Enjoy!

Anyway I digress, I’ve done my confession, now it’s on to the brownie!

Gooey and lush

Over the past couple of weeks, I’ve been going nuts about baking brownies! Not content with using ordinary flour, I’ve played around with hemp and coconut. Hemp flour is a fabulously green powder that does have a very distinct flavour and texture. I used all hemp in one batch of brownies, but in hindsight, I should have used a third hemp, the other two-thirds of GF flour. Coconut flour I found in a Spar in Leamington Spa. It was an amazing shop, full of Asian and Middle Eastern goodies. That evening we had coconut brownie with chocolate sauce (think bounty but without the sickly sweetness or bits to get stuck in your teeth); hit every single note for all concerned.

At Edinburgh Farmers’ Market last Saturday, there were frozen raspberries from Perth; hence this recipe.
Brownies are so easy and quick to make; incredibly versatile and well-behaved using all manner of different ingredients. Try throwing chunks of white chocolate in the batter or nuts, frozen cherries, dried sour cherries, dried cranberries, fresh blueberries – whatever tickles you taste buds, just lob it in. If it doesn’t work, then douse in booze and serve with custard.

This recipe is easy to adapt to suit coeliacs and dairy intolerant folk just by replacing the ingredients that disagree with you.

Amazing what a few ingredients can make!

RASPBERRY BROWNIES
Ingredients
9oz dark chocolate (I use 64% cocoa)
9oz unsalted butter (or dairy free alternative like Flora)
4 large eggs
5oz caster sugar (or muscovado, soft brown)
2 ½ oz plain flour (or ground almonds, hemp flour or coconut flour)
8oz frozen or fresh raspberries

 (I make no apologies for using the old currency of imperial measurements, I can’t get to grips with the new fandangled metric stuff!)

Method

Preheat oven to 180C/160C fan/Gas 4. Line a 9-inch square tin with baking parchment and put to one side.
Break chocolate into smallish pieces (while it’s still in the wrapper, I wallop it on the work surface to smash it up). Cut butter into small cubes and put into a bowl along with the chocolate. Pop over a pan of simmering water, but don’t let the bottom of the bowl touch the water. Stir occasionally until it has melted into a glossy mess. Leave to cool slightly.
In a separate bowl beat the eggs and sugar until it is a thick creamy mass and when the beaters are lifted, there is a ribbon trail.

Thick and fluffy ribbon trail

I know most recipes say fold in the chocolate, but I’ve found that pouring the molten goo into the eggs while the mixer is going at full tilt doesn’t do any harm.
So gently pour the chocolate into the fluffy egg mix with the mixer going at hyper-drive.

Mixer on warp drive!

Sift the flour over the mix and gently fold in, making sure that there is no flour left at the bottom of the bowl. Once incorporated, fold in the raspberries; it doesn’t matter if they are still frozen or not.

Difficult not to dip in fingers

Plop the whole lot into the tin and throw in the oven on the middle shelf. Set timer for 25 mins and check when it pings to see if it the brownie has set. It shouldn’t be firm but if a little soft put back for another 3-5 minutes.
When cooked, leave to cool in the tin. Don’t worry if it’s a bit gooey, it’ll taste fab anyway. The longer you leave it the firmer it will be. The crust may sink and fracture, that’s fine.
If you’re serving it warm have it with a crackingly good vanilla ice cream or clotted cream.
Makes 9 very large squares for greedy-guts or cut into 12 for a more dignified portion.

© Lea Harris, Off the Eaten Track 2012

It's a wrap!

With a duff right hand I needed a quick fix pick me up that didn’t leave me in pain. So follow the

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The object of my downfall!

It’s been a funny ol’ week! I broke my ring finger metacarpal in my right hand last Saturday; no I wasn’t drunk at the time; yes, it was cake related. As a result of this injury, I was told by the hospital that I wouldn’t be able to drive for six weeks. “Six weeks!” I screeched, like chalk down a blackboard. Wailing, I continued, “I’ve got a cake to bake for Wednesday. I have to bake!”  Taping and splinting my hand, the nurse, bless her, offered me sympathy with her kind comment of, “You could always get a cake from M&S.” She meant well, I’m sure, but it would go down like a sunken cupcake with the Edinburgh Cake Ladies!

Due to this frustrating inconvenience, I’m unable to cook and under a cloud of self-pity on Sunday, I tweeted about my clumsiness. Twitter never ceases to amaze me; this virtual world is full of kindness that humbles me. The first act was from Sarah Pettegree, the pork pie meisteress behind the award-winning Brays Cottage in Norfolk who insisted I give her my snail mail address.

Brays Cottage - No ordinary pork pie.

Wednesday I received four twee pork pies. My son and I argued over who was going to have the chorizo one; you don’t need three guesses who won that round. :~}They were fab. I’ve eaten them already. So thank you Sarah.

Full of meaty goodness

The offers of help from people near me is truly heartfelt and my neighbour Rhona has been feeding and ferrying me back and forth. It just goes to show who your real friends are. I would do exactly the same for her.
The next act of kindness, a complete and utter surprise, was from Allison Patrick, another local tweeter and Edinburgh Cake Lady. After reading a thread about my liking of ginger cake and not making any because no one else likes it in my house, made one for me and brought it along to last night’s Edinburgh Cake Ladies’ Back to Basics meeting. I was more than a little gobsmacked I can tell you. Didn’t stop me from blethering mind you.

Allison's gingerbread - all for me?

Friday night I’m being taken out for dinner by Sharon from Bite Magazine and my son Toby said he‘d drop me off! I am indeed truly blessed with caring friends. Thank you!

Full of fishy goodness

To top it all, today I received my second box of fish from DelishFish and Fish is the Dish. This week I have wild hake, which went straight into the freezer as cooking is still a bit of an issue. Hot smoked salmon from John Milne along with a large bag of frozen scampi (langoustine to you and me). A quick recipe can be found on my Fish is the Dish recipe page.

So to everyone who has sent food parcels, baked for me or fed me this week
THANK YOU

Says it all really!

I’ve set up a new page for the dishes I make from fish supplied to me by Delish Fish to promote the new campaign by Sea Fish, ‘Fish is the Dish’.
This weeks recipe is Cullen Skink Crumble. so follow the

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If you want to have a laugh have a gander at the video of me making a fool of myself. Nowt new there then

© Lea Harris, Off the Eaten Track 2011

 An early start sees me blearily hail a cab from my London hotel at 5.30am, whisking me off through the almost traffic-free city streets to Billingsgate Market. As a Londoner originally, I’ve been to most of the big names in my time; Smithfield’s with hulking great sides of meat carried by equally hulking beast of men; Spitalfield’s fruit and veg market and Old Covent Garden. The latter in the mid 70s where wolf whistles were accepted with a smile along with a flower or two. A chatty 20 minute cab ride later, I’m making my way through the neon lit pre-dawn to Billingsgate Seafood School. I have to thank Joanne, who deals with all the admin, for letting me join the tour part of the Catch of the Day course, as I’m unable to take fish away with me there is no point in doing the whole four hours.

N, S, E, W no disputing fish is best!

After I’ve donned a white coat, it’s a cup of coffee in the classroom with nine other participants. I strike up a conversation with a lovely Kiwi called Sarah. For those of you who think I have the best job in the world – WRONG! She must have – working on a small yacht cooking for six crew and six guests; money no object, she has free range to buy from some of the best places around the Med. I’m jealous.

Adam Whittle is our guide this morning and he briefly chats about what we will be doing, explaining that the procedure for filleting changes with the shape of the fish and it doesn’t matter what size they are the same method applies. He asks if we’d like to pool £10 each so he can buy three different types of fish. Makes perfect sense, get a better deal buying by the box and practicing knife skills on cheaper fish. Why butcher an expensive turbot when we can hone our technique on several plaice?

Practice fish

Getting to know your fish!

We watch the market from above as he gives some insights about Billingsgate. With about 40 – 50 independent traders, there is a huge variety of fish, shellfish and seafood from our cooler native waters to warmer seas and oceans of hotter climes.

Did you know, globally 50% of the fish we eat is farmed? I didn’t. He explains that wild fish is unpredictable in quality yet still commands a high price tag and with the spawning season now past, October to March is the best time to buy. Farmed offers the buyer a consistent quality throughout the year and is of course decidedly cheaper. Prices fluctuate depending on the weather conditions when the boats go out. Adam informs us that they are on the high side today, because of the tail end of hurricane, Katia is still affecting fishing conditions.

A very be-whiskered gentleman

The place is not only full of character but also full of colourful characters. We stop at one supplier with whiskers that a walrus would be proud of. There are boxes of fish that are local to our waters: salmon, sea bass and bream, gurnard, grey mullet, squid, plaice, pouting, mackerel, all of which are promoted by the school. Even in such an international market, its great to see local and seasonal produce being championed.

There's no hiding from me little trout!

Mishapen but we love you even more

Boxes of sea fresh and glistening fish of every shape, colour and size!

Makings for a clam chowder, these monsters were once used for ships' balast!

There are imported, air freighted exotics like parrot fish, barracuda, surgeonfish, snappers and groupers.

Exotic wee fish

A brace of very pretty strawberry groupers

Baracuda Bill, well Adam actually

Goat fish anyone?

Nowt wrong with that as many ethnic communities rely on these fish and who are we to say they can’t? We’re shown what to look for in fresh fish; most of us are aware of the difference between the good and the not so good – clear sparkling eyes, red gills, bright red blood, briny not fishy smell, rigidity (rigor mortis is a good sign) and slime that is clear.

Badge of Honour for 700 years!

Barry - A man with a good fishy tale or two!

We split into two groups and I join the ensemble lead by a well-respected member of the time-honoured Worshipful Company of Fishmongers, Barry O’Toole, who is not only very knowledgeable, but spins a good yarn. He explains how to recognise good filleted fish, using a side of salmon as his example.

Did you know that farmed salmon comes in a variety of colours depending on what the fish farmer requires? Starting at 1, which is pale pink right through to 35, that I guess, would be deep coral red. The colour we associate with salmon is about 24/25 on the scale. From the wild, it would be the colour of human skin – a very pale pink. We stop at Billy’s stall, a cheeky, chirpy chappie who gives as good as he gets. Next under scrutiny are scallops. These are expensive wee beasties and there are cheaper ones to be had. Barry explains how to spot if they have been soaked to plump them up and lighten their colour. Unadulterated scallops are the colour of grubby opals with vibrant coral, soaked are plumper, whiter but the real giveaway is the coral looks tired and washed out. They also exude moisture.

Stopping at another stall, we a confronted by hake, and, as Barry explains it looks as if it’s seen better days. The fish is flabby, the flesh is soft, the gills are bordering on black; all in all not a good sign – uh ah, this fish is in prime condition. Hake is a soft-fleshed fish, best cut into steaks to cook. So how do you tell if it’s good to eat? “Easy,” says Barry. “The slime that coats it should be snot-like, when cut the blood should be bright and of course your nose will tell you if it’s fresh or not.” This fish ain’t ever going to win a beauty contest, but it certainly is popular appearing on many a restaurant menu. Our attention is turned to a box of sprats. As he runs his hands through the shiny fish, they move freely denoting they are very fresh. Picking one up, Barry makes it jump from his fingers another indication of freshness. “If they feel sticky and clump together go look for another fishmonger,” he’s says with a smile.

It’s now 7.30am and the tour draws to a close. I’ve learnt so much in a couple of hours and the two men, Adam and Barry have such knowledge and passion, it humbles me.

A box to practice the art of fish filleting

Heading up to the classroom for another quick coffee, I watch Adam tip out his catch of the day. The remaining nine will be filleting a box of über fresh plaice, two boxes of silvery iridescent mackerel, stiff with rigor and a box of coral pink gurnard. I wish I could join them, but my day is booked with other interesting things. So, I bid farewell to the group, head out into a driech day and join commuters on their journey into town. It’s 8.15am and I’ve been up for almost four hours. What a great way to start the day!

Open wide!

Billingsgate Seafood Training School

020 7517 3548

www.seafoodtraining.org

© Lea Harris, Off the Eaten Track 2011

Elegant and chic

I’m in Lausanne at the moment and on my jaunt around the city yesterday, mulling over the joys of the macaron, I found a branch of Ladurée.

My macaron Mecca

I just gawped, drooled and then wiped my chin before crossing the threshold and into the inner-sanctum of this renowned establishment. The pleasure of gazing at the pastel and vibrantly neon delights was diminished by the slight arrogance of the shop assistant. Despite the oikes dismissive attitude, I choose eight temptations, ignoring his suggestion of the more obvious flavours, “Frambois, Madame?” “ Non, merci!” “Per’aps, Madame would like le Citron?” No Madame bloody wouldn’t!
I made my selection and left the shop clutching my contraband tightly.

Eeny, meeny,miny, MINE!

Once inside my apartment, I opened the box with the gentleness of a lover unlacing a bodice. They were seductive in their colourful beauty; unsullied, fragile as an angel’s wing.
There was the réglisse (liquorice and caramel to you and me) in all its smouldering glory. It certainly has a look of volcanic lavaness to it. Perhaps the filling should have been vibrant red to give it more of a Dantenesque, Inferno feel. The hint of aniseed was a gentle tease and not an aggressive assault on the senses.

Réglisse

In comparison to the demonic réglisse were two cherubs;

Pétales de rose

a dusky pink disc perfumed with rose (pétales de rose) and a pale complexioned orange blossom (fleur d’oranger).

Fleur d'oranger

I imagine that angel’s breath would smell like these tasted – fragrant, sweet and heady. Out of the whole box, I fell in love with them.
The salted caramel macaron (caramel à la fleur de sel), specifically Pierre Herme’s was my favourite until to day! The colour of soft, umber-coloured suede, this morsel was as gorgeous as I remember. The balance of salt to sweet is so critical; a touch too much and the whole idea of this union could be oh so wrong.

Caramel à la fleur de sel

These four I would walk over mountains for. They were utterly sublime, and if I had to choose my favourite, I would definitely say the orange blossom was just perfection.
The other four macarons were good, but didn’t really rock my world. The colour of the Granny Smith apple appealed to me being a lover of green, but there was a real artificial flavour to it that just rankled.

Pomme Granny Smith

The pistachio was a good representation of its ilk, great taste and again a gorgeous colour, but no surprises.

Pistache

The grape and cinnamon (raisin cannelle) had the warmth of the spice and sweetness of the grape, but again it didn’t ignite the passion in my taste buds.

Raisin Cannelle

And as for the chocolate, I hate to say it but it was just so boring and mundane. Good chocolaty taste but dull.

Chocolat

I must admit to being a bit of a snob when it comes to macarons and I do prefer Pierre Hermes’s, but when an addiction has to be fed, Ladurée isn’t a bad alternative!

Gorgeous morsels!

Ladurée Lausanne
Rue du Bourg 3
1003 Lausanne
Switzerland
Opening hours
Monday : 11.00am – 6.30pm
Tuesday to Friday : 9.30am – 6.30pm
Saturday : 9.30am – 6.00pm
Closed on Sunday

© Lea Harris, Off the Eaten Track 2011

Give us our daily bread

My wholemeal bread, in the past, has been described, at best, as being reminiscent of a house brick that no self-respecting duck would deign to self-stuff with. And, believe me when I say, I have tried making brown bread many a time without out success. White on the other hand always turns out as something that is edible and rather delicious. So why would I decide to try my hand at making sourdough? Let’s face it my track record ain’t that great. I eat a lot of sourdoughs from the various bakers across Edinburgh and it has been on my mind for several months after hearing talk on twitter about various people ‘giving it a go’, so why shouldn’t I have a bash?

Well fed and rested sourdough starter

I was fortunate enough to snaffle 30g of Andrew Whitley’s sourdough starter stash given to Tim Keates, you know the madcap biker doing a foodie bike ride from John O’ Groats to Land’s End (see previous post) so without any excuses a sourdough just had to be made.
With some rather cryptic instructions (see below), the starter was nurtured as best as it could be under my *koff* capable hands.
I fed it.
I kept it warm.
I let it rest.

Bubbling up to 300g!

Et voila after a week it had grown from a meagre 30g into a whopping 300g of original leaven, ready to be transformed into production leaven, which in turn would become the dough for my bread.

The process for making sourdough is long as the yeast used is wild, i.e. developed from the natural spores in the air and not from fresh blocks or commercially dried packets. The proving time for the loaf is anything from four to twelve hours – depending on the conditions as to where it is left to slumber.

Just waiting for a good squidging

Ready for kneading

To the production leaven I tipped in the two flours, added salt and warm water. Doesn’t look pretty but it felt good mixing it with my hands. The squidgey mass I plopped onto a floured work surface and proceeded to knead briefly; it only needed 10 minutes for it to be transformed into a soft, smooth and elastic ball of dough.

Ten minutes of gentle kneading

With my first attempt, I used a mix of half white flour and half of a stone-ground four grain blend.

Get back in your basket

Looking good!

The soft elastic lump rose in its’ tea towel lined basket really well and I was dead chuffed. Three slashes later it was ready for the oven. A quick call to Craig at Breadwinners to check as to whether I should spray water into the oven when I put the proven dough in, as well as a tray underneath with ice cubes to create steam, which helps form a good crust.

Waiting for a short, sharp, slashing!

My problem with this attempt was spraying water in the oven; I think I should have squirted above the dough not at it. I shocked it! The poor thing couldn’t expand; the slashes I made on the top didn’t widen as much as they should have. Hey ho, live and learn, which I did.

Not as expected

With my second endeavour, the flour percentage was as recommended in the instructions, 75/25 white/wholemeal. This rise was reluctant (even after four hours it hadn’t doubled in size) and I was getting impatient so popped it on the work surface and made use of a commodity that has been in short supply recently – the sun! And surprise, surprise, it started to grow. An hour later it had reached the top of the basket, so I tipped it gently onto a floured baking sheet, scored the top and shoved it in a hot oven, this time without giving it a shower or sauna. Reducing the temperature after ten minutes, I left my baby to bake.

A rather fine looking loaf!

What a delight it was when, 40 minutes later, with my kitchen filled with the smell of fresh baked bread, I flicked open the oven to reveal a very nice looking loaf. True it wasn’t an overinflated pillow but the slits had split and I was truly impressed as to how professional it looked. Maybe I was wearing rose tinted spectacles, maybe it was a good loaf, but one thing for certain was it didn’t look like a flattened beige curling stone and the ladies who came to dinner were impressed. It cut beautifully, it had a great texture and crust, but above all it tasted fab – soft, chewy, slightly sour and in the immortal words of master baker, Paul Hollywood, it was a very good bake!

© Lea Harris, Off the Eaten Track. 2011

Andrew Whitley’s instructions for making a sourdough starter from scratch 

Pain de Campagne
The Classic French Country Bread – from Bread Matters by Andrew Whitely (Fourth Estate), available from www.breadmatters.com

This is a delicious slightly sour dough bread with a chewy crumb and thick crust made without added yeast. Wild yeasts in the flour multiply to raise the dough and naturally-occurring lactobacilli (which produce lactic and acetic acid) develop to give the bread its tangy flavour

Starting a Leaven from Scratch
Day 1   
30g white flour
7g wholemeal flour
23ml warm water (30oC)
 60g
Mix to a firm dough, cover loosely with a polythene bag and leave in a fairly warm place (around 30oC is ideal). After 24hours, refresh the starter as follows:

Day 2
60g starter from Day 1
30g white flour
7g wholemeal flour
23ml warm water (30oC)
120g
Mix well, knead briefly and cover as before. After two more days, refresh again:

Day 3
120g starter from Day 2
30g white flour
7g wholemeal flour
23ml warm water (30oC)
180g
Mix well, knead briefly and cover as before. After one more day, refresh again:

Day 4
180g starter from Day 3
60g white flour
15g wholemeal flour
45ml warm water (30oC)
300g total ‘original leaven’
After 24 hours you should have a leaven which smells nicely acidic. From now on, use some of this to make a ‘production leaven’ and bread as follows:

Using a Leaven to Make Bread
Stage 1 – Refreshing the Leaven
120ml water
200g flour (75/25 white/wholemeal or as you prefer)
160g original leaven
480g total ‘production leaven’
Mix to a dough and leave in a warm place for 4 hours or a cool place for 12 hours. Then use this leaven to make your dough.

Stage 2 – Making the Dough
300g refreshed ‘production leaven’ from Stage 1 above (the rest becomes
or adds to your pot of ‘original leaven’)
400g flour (75/25 white/wholemeal or as you prefer)
300ml water
8g salt
Make a fairly soft dough. Knead until smooth and elastic. Cut into desired size, mould,
dip in flour and place in a floured banneton or a bowl lined with a floured tea-towel. Cover with a polythene bag and leave to prove in a warm place for up to 5 hours, until the dough has roughly doubled in volume. Turn out onto a baking sheet lined with silicone paper.
Slash the dough with a sharp knife or razor blade to make the pattern of your choice.
Bake in a fairly hot oven (220oC dropping to 200oC after ten minutes) to develop a good crust.

Unused leaven may be stored in the fridge for some weeks. Leaven may also be frozen. To revive it, defrost it thoroughly and do a preliminary refreshment as described in ‘Stage 1 – Refreshing the Leaven’, but take care to work out how much you will need to make bread with at the dough stage and adjust quantities back from there.

© Andrew Whitley 2010

Lutyens' East Lothian masterpiece

With the weather for August and the Edinburgh Festival looking more than a little damp, I hanker for the glorious sunny day when I had afternoon tea at the beautiful Greywalls in Gullane.

For those of you who don’t know of this stunning country house, it was designed by Sir Edwin Lutyens in 1901 and built for the Hon. Alfred Lyttelton, a keen golfer (I’m not). With its honey coloured stonework, gorgeous interior and a garden that has hidden nooks and crannies, it whisks you back to a more genteel era and I love it here. However, I digress; this isn’t architectural based ramblings, this is about afternoon tea in glorious surroundings, in the sun and with good company.

Hands off ladies, he's spoken for!

I have to confess that I am biased; pastry chef Ross Baxter received Pâtissier Gold Medal 2011 from the Scottish Hotel Awards, (I’m the principal food judge for SHA) and it isn’t surprising really, as he is under the wing of one of my food heroes, Albert Roux!

Three wee slices of cake – carrot, lemon, Dundee

As a keen baker, cake to me is an important part of life; afternoon tea at Greywalls had been on my cakey agenda for sometime. So with a ping-pong of tweets with Alison aka @EdinburghCake, Ross and me, a day and time was confirmed.

Everything stops for tea

The pair of us were lucky, with perfect weather for an alfresco indulgence in the gardens. We chose our teas and waited for the cake stand and sandwiches to arrive.

Exquisite wee morsels

Our eyes lit up when the young waiter appeared with plates of luscious looking cakes, slices, macarons, scones and entremets (multi-layered mousse-based cake comprising of different complementary flavours with varying texture contrasts).
We started, as instructed,  with the chocolatey, gooey cakes that would melt in the sun if left until last. This ended up as our favourite; different chocolate layers decorated with edible gold leaf. We ate with  occasional murmurings of, “This is stunning!” or “I can’t believe how good these are!” But mostly we didn’t speak but mmmm’d an awful lot.

Chocolate layers of different textures that kept us quite!

Next the macarons, one of my addictions. Tongue nipping lemon and a fragrant chocolate and passionfruit; some of the best outside Paris.

Tongue-zapping, lip-tingling zingy, zesty lemon macaron - oh my!

Passionfruit and chocolate macaron including lick mark.

I loved the snow-white dome of meringue filled with a soft pistachio cream with an almond paste base. Topped with a fresh raspberry jelly and whole pistachios, it was so delicate, getting it to my mouth was a tricky operation as it crumpled between my clumsy fingers.

Meringue shell filled with pistachio cream topped with raspberry jelly and pistachios

We nearly overlooked  the sandwiches, which to us, were an afterthought, a nice afterthought, but a lovely savoury diversion to all the sweet delights presented to us. 

Finger sandwiches sprinkled with micro herbs

It’s not usual to have a miniature dessert for after tea, but I liked the idea of this chocolate mousse, layered with strawberry compote, dreamy custard and cream. With no-one around, I have to admit I did swipe a finger round the inside of the glass – waste not, want not!

Loads of layered lusciousness

With another pot of tea, we finished with scones – one plain, one fruit both dolloped with clotted cream and homemade jams. Ross’ scones were light, moist and could give me a run for me money!

A brace of scones slathered in cream, dolloped with raspberry and blackcurrant jams

My nemesis - the shame of it!

Unlike Alison who scoffed everything and still had room an hour and half later to polish off fish and chips in North Berwick (respect, girlfriend!), I was defeated by half a scone; oh the shame of it all.

I give in - but it's only a small mouthful

So if the weather doesn’t improve and I can’t face traipsing around the city during the Festival, you might just find me snuggled down on one of the overstuffed sofas in front of a real fire indulging in another one of Greywalls’ glorious afternoon teas.

Please note, Ross kindly gave us extra cakes that aren’t normally included and when we came to pay, we were told it was on the house.

Full Afternoon Tea – £17.00 per person
French Afternoon Tea – £13.50 per person
Champagne Afternoon Tea – £26.00 per person
You can also have a game of tennis, putting or croquet (not as gentle as one would think –it can get quite vicious).
Greywalls
Muirfield
Gullane
East Lothian
EH31 2EG
Tel: 01620 842144

(C) Lea Harris, Off the Eaten Track, 2001

Thank you Twitter for your introduction to this barmy, bonkers, batty eccentric bloke in tweeds who will be riding a 1930’s butcher’s bike with one gear from John O’Groats to Land’s End! As of yet I’ve not met @GBFoodCycle aka Tim Keates, the madcap builder who is doing a foodie cycle from north to south in the space of 31 days, but I know for a fact I will. This all kicks off on 1st August when Tim starts his journey – wending his way down country lanes, peddling furiously up steep hills and free-wheeling down the other side, and when he reaches Edinburgh, our paths will cross.
What is the Great British Food Cycle? Well the press release below, kindly written for Tim by Alex Haydon will, hopefully, give you some insight into this madcap man.
If you think you can help, Tim is looking for a Project Manager, Press Officer and a Support Driver for the Scottish leg as well as sponsors and investors, not forgetting food producers and chefs.

The Madcap Builder and the Butcher's Bike (c) Ray Wat

QUALITY TRADITION PROVENANCE DIVERSITY
SUSTAINABILITY

‘Let us go forward together – and recreate the glory of Great British food and drink’

Eccentric foodie Tim Keates’ vision is to help his fellow-Britons rediscover the traditional quality, diversity and provenance of food and drink produced across our island. He wants to bring together many time-honoured food values and examine their place in modern food production. Looking at how those values can be incorporated in an ever-changing diverse Britain.
If Bertie Wooster had devised a weight-loss programme, this is the just the sort of thing he might have come up with. Tim will be riding his 1930s butcher’s bike from John O’Groats to Land’s End. Wearing tweeds. In August. But any weight Tim loses on his 1200-mile trek will more than likely be replaced on his stops along the way. Over the four weeks, this jolly moustachioed figure will whirr gently through the market towns and villages of the country, meeting, tasting and championing specialist producers.

Oh, I say! (c) David Corfield

Don't try this at home! (c) David Corfield

Notes for editors: for further information please contact: Tim Keates directly
Mb: 07836781498
Email: gbfoodcycle@googlemail.com
www.greatbritishfoodcycle.org.uk
YouTube http://goo.gl/kbtLV
Twitter @GBFoodCyle

N.B. During the Cycle, viewers will be regularly updated via the website, social media and a GPS system that will track the old boneshaker as it traverses the great British landscape.
N.B. 2 There is an opening for the whole adventure to be captured by professional regional film crews. Material will be available from the internet as a series of mini-documentaries and a special edition long-form version, available for future broadcast.