Rustic sticky toffee pudding

My readership knows my obsession about sticky toffee puddings, which I ended up giving to my whole family. A few weeks ago, when I went to The Frog, the charming little pub in the village of Skirmett, this is what I had for dessert. It's now almost a given that it will be my dessert of choice. I am always on the lookout for the best one. I am not sure if the pudding from The Frog was the best, but it was lovely in its simplicity: thick, hearty, devoid of custard or ice cream or whipped cream, or anything distracting. It was, in essence, an essential, bare, rustic if you will, sticky toffee pudding. Just the way they should always be.

An inn in the country

I recently blogged (twice actually) about The Frog, the local pub of the little village of Skirmett. Well, it turns out that The Frog is an also an inn, as it has accomodation. Not big or luxurious one, but they seem comfortable, and the pub being right in the heart of English countryside. Back when I was a child, this would have been my dream destination. It would have fired up my imagination, as quaint little hotels often did back then. They still do. I often played with my brothers and friends about such places. Sometimes it was murder mystery, sometimes medieval fantasy or horror stories, but there was plenty of villains, secret passages, haunted roads and dangers in these imaginary inns of our make belief games. There are probably still a few stories to be told about such places. I really need to go back to that pub.

Un feu de foyer au pub

J'ai blogué hier sur notre visite au pub The Frog, qui est situé dans un petit patelin perdu en campagne. Un pub rustique comme je les aime. Il y avait en plus un foyer avec un feu dedans. Un vrai foyer, avec un vrai feu bien actif. Ça n'a l'air de rien comme ça, mais si les foyers sont communs dans les pubs anglais, ceux qui sont utilisés comme celui-ci sont rares. Ça nous tenait au chaud une journée où on en avait bien besoin. Pas qu'elle soit glaciale, mais elle était froidasse et humide et surtout morne. Un feu de foyer une journée comme celle-là, ça a quelque chose de réconfortant. Ce qui est de bien en plus, c'est qu'il y a des bancs et qu'on peut donc s'y asseoir autour. Il y a aussi un divan pas loin, ce qui permet de profiter de la chaleur tout en lisant ou en prenant un verre, comme si on était dans son salon. C'est ce que je ferais si je séjournais au pub (et on peut le faire). Morale de l'histoire: va falloir qu'on revisite The Frog un de ces quatre.

A pheasant for the roast

I got my wish, we finally went to the pub today for a Sunday roast. It was at The Frog in Skirmett, a quaint english pub in a quaint English village, but we had read some positive reviews online. So anyway we went there and on the daily special there was... a pheasant roast. Hunted in the woods nearby. I know this because they warned that it might contain a shot. I could not resist trying it. I was wise, as it was absolutely delicious. Not only the best roast I had, but the best pub meal I had in years. It is difficult to describe, but basically wild animals like this taste wild. They taste of woodlands. And it was actually slightly cheaper than a lot of other things on the menu. Oh and for the record, it did contain the shot.