Cheltenham - Back In The 'Nam

 

Cheltenham or "'Nam" is a dreamy Regency town which advertises itself as the "heart of the Cotswolds" and perhaps it is. I've always thought the center of town was like a park, with Montpellier and the Promenade running through the midst of it, surrounded by Georgian town houses and substantial villas. What's not to like, in a rus in urbe kind of way and that's where I went after the RSC and good old Edinburgh.

First things first, catch a cab from the station to Hotel 131, which is across the road from the Queens Hotel, facing Imperial Gardens. 131 is new and occupies three substantial buildings which would once have been owned and lived in by people of quality. It's a hotel now and not a bad one, despite annoying dance music being played on its otherwise pleasant terrace. Get over that and the fact that the place is like stepping into a Soho nightclub in the late '90s and you're ok.

Nostalgia for central London 30 years ago aside, step out onto the Promenade like a boss and make your way down the leafy, almost ritzy Promenade to the High Street. It hasn't changed all that much since I lived there back in the mists of time apart from restaurants, which seem to be everywhere, annoyingly. Ignoring them, head to the Cotswold Inn to meet an old friend.

Now the Cotswold is, I think, the last biker bar in central Cheltenham, favored by what used to be the Wolves Outlaws and now simply the Outlaws. They dropped the Wolves thing and rolled into a greater transatlantic beast, at least that's my take. 

Whatever the case, they seem to like me there and it was all very, "Alright, Padre!" I've become, curiously, an unofficial chaplain, and I told one of the probationary Outlaws that the Cotswold was the last biker bar in town. He looked at me and exclaimed, "Tradition's important!" So it is, they train them well there. You'll be pleased to know I stuck to traditional Outlaw MC Padre rig, a single breasted blazer, open neck shirt, smart trousers and loafers. Gotta show respect, don't you think?

A few pints later, it was time to head off for Moroccan food, and man was it tasty. Who knew, right in the heart of the Cotswolds, delicious, and it was great to catch up with my old friend. He's had a hard time but hasn't sunk beneath the waves, sort of thing.

The next day, a friend came to visit from Hereford and we had fun strolling around the pubs and leafy boulevards of the place. I cut to the chase, "Tell me, PHA, is this country Communist?" He looked at me with apocalyptic folk music wisdom and asked, "Does it look that way?" We glanced over at a Lexus, a Mercedes and several BMWs, "Yes, if the Politburo's anything to go by."

Someone else's photo of Imperial Gardens

My pal, in fairness, is probably mostly a Commie, even though he's a bell ringer, and doubtless thinks England isn't Red enough. I dispute this, believing it's far too Bolshevik already, but we didn't argue and enjoyed our pints as we walked this incredibly beautiful country town. Go there if you can.

Next evolution? Back to London and then home to the great state of Texas.

Cheers,

LSP

Happy Cooking With LSP - Yorkshire Pudding

 

how can anyone take you seriously?

Can you have too much of a good thing? No, but only if the thing in question is absolutely good. That in mind, this humble cookery blog's focusing on the X-Ring, yes, Yorkshire Pudding, so very tasty. But how do you make these "puddings"? Good question and here's my fix, backed up by experts.

nice

Get a mixing bowl, mine's made of pyrex, you maybe have some other kind and that's OK. Tip a cup of regular flour into the bowl. Add 4 eggs. Stir it all about until smooth, perhaps you use an Olde Wooden Forke to achieve this τέλος, or a whisk, or whatever, your call.

Next up pour a cup of whole milk or 3/4 cup of whole milk and 1 1/12 tbs water into the mix. Add 1/2 tsp of salt. Stir until the consistency of cream. Well done, you've just made Yorkshire Pudding batter, no small thing. So now what?

next add milk/water, don't forget salt

Put the batter aside, expert YP science says it doesn't matter if it goes in the fridge or not, I use the fridge, and let it rest. Settled science says the longer the rest the better, up to overnight, makes for a better rise, because science. But if you're turning these beasts on a schedule/dime, 30+ minutes works too.

this batter's ready to go hot

Then clean some guns, or catapults, kitchen knives and sticks if you're in the UK, wash the kitchen floor, catch up on blogs and LL's excellent meditation on Faith and Substance while the batter's resting. Admire the rus in urbe aspect of your Compound's back yard while you're at it, all is good. Next?

hot tin

Preheat oven to 425* and pour beef dripping or olive oil into your pudding tin. I use olive oil and a sixfold muffin thing; you don't need much oil/fat, just cover the bottom of each indent or, if you're going hardcore heavy metal, 8" heavy metal skillets (x2).

Well done, you've got this far, sharpen a kukri while the oven heats. When it's ready, put the oiled tin into the oven, let it heat up for around 10 minutes if you're using a Sixer muffin tin. Tin hot, experts say it doesn't matter if it is, take it out and pour in the batter, around a 1/4 cup per ripping hot indent. It should sizzle. Word to the wise, don't take the hot tin out of the oven with your hands, sayn.

Command & Control from the, er, kitchen

Too much detail? Hey, no gain without pain; fire the superhot tin into the 425* (some techologists say 450*) oven and let it do its thing for around 20 minutes. Word to the wise, don't take it out too soon or the puddings will collapse, you want a crispy exterior which upholds the rise. They should look something like this.

a bit done? Hey 4 outta six, not a bad ratio

Mission accomplished, behold the beauty of the thing and fall upon your scoff, yes, like a warrior.

Adveniat,

LSP

War On

 

A war rages at the Compound. The protagonists?

An exotic duck.

And a ferocious dog, seeking whom he may devour.

You see, what happens here is that the duck flies over the perimeter in search of food and Blue Terminator doesn't take that lying down. No, he advances to contact, slowly, because he's blind. Meanwhile the duck continues, oblivious, until the last moment and then flies away.

Make of this problem farm parable what you will.

Rus in Urbe,

LSP