We’re welcoming everyone back to Longford Farmhouse, Salisbury for the last two weekends in November, for our fifth in the series of ‘Cooking the Books’ dining events.
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We have 800 suppliers within 100 meters of our front door. Not many outfits could boast that statistic.
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It’s great to be cooking outdoors, by the sea. I know it’s a bit of a busman’s holiday for me, but I’m a complete addict and can’t help introducing new dishes to intrigue friends with, on our annual excursion to west Wales.
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We’re now looking for a head chef to join us and input a bit of energy and direction. Someone that’s used to working at the top end. Someone creative, ruthlessly efficient, passionate and not just doing it because it’s a job and it pays the bills. So if you know anyone, tell them to get in touch. We’re over 10 years into this game and looking forward to the next ten.
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I like that phrase, ‘may I help you’, it’s comforting, inclusive, generous and encouraging all at once. What it refers to, passing and breaking bread, sharing sustenance, sharing the delight of food and drink and company. That gesture speaks all languages, which for an idiot abroad, was very welcoming.
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There’s a lot to be said for choosing the right wedding venue, although it’s not an easy task when there are so many fantastic and varied options out there, from stately homes or converted barns to a simple marquee in your back garden. Each one has such a different vibe, and you are looking for something which fits yours.
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We get our lamb from Will Dickson, at Wick Farm in Downton. He’s a handsome fellow, and so are his sheep, pretty as a picture and look great on a plate.
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We can help you come up with a plan that you will be confident with, that will be executed with meticulous detail, ruthless efficiency, and lashings of good humour by the Bread and Flowers team.
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ROAST CAULIFLOWER STEAK, TRUFFLED CAULIFLOWER PUREE, SHAVED CAULIFLOWER DRESSING, DEEP FRIED LEAVES, TOASTED BUCKWHEAT.
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A bit late, but Happy New Year! The sun is shining as I write, it’s chilly outside, but as always, it’s toasty in the kitchen.
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FLY ME BACK TO KRIBI, PT 2 - We swung into Kribi via the petrol station where Jimmy was bartering with one of the locals over the price of our dingy. The taxi pulled up and I waved to him from the back seat, he sauntered oved surprised to see me
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Fly me back to KRIBI I’ve told this story a thousand times, never written it down. Bee suggests you may want to order your food before reading it, you may want to eat first too. So first things first, here’s the menu.
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I’m sure it’s not just me who feels plagued with a distinct lack of any momentum at the moment. Everything is promised and about to happen, but nothing actually has. So for some bizarre reason, my mind has drifted back to 1978, The Cameroon,
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We have had the Spring equinox, the clocks are about to change, it was 16 degrees somewhere in the UK earlier this week, so positively balmy. The sun’s out today, Easter is round the corner and here at Bread and Flowers, we are feeling positively Lambtastic at the thought of next week’s menu.
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I’m listening to a Louisiana Cajun album from the 1920’s, ‘Ma Cherie Tite Fille’ to be precise by Soileau & Robin, released in 1929 . I guess you would call it a guilty pleasure, along with Madonna’s, ‘Borderline’.
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Robbie Worral peered across Ince marsh in 1963. We were three, and although we didn’t know it then, three caballeros, Robbie, my twin brother Kenneth and I. We stood on Greenbank, just by the vicarage one hot Saturday,
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Forty three years ago, Jimmy Docherty and I hitch hiked out of Chester, it was four o’clock in the afternoon my diary tells me, we arrived in London at 8.00pm. We met up with friends from art school and shared a pint in The Grove Tavern, Camberwell, before heading down to Ramsgate with friends,
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It’s been a bit of a week to say the least, with a flurry of brides rearranging dates to post June 21, booking in for food tastings and site visits, in short, getting the wheels on the bus moving again. Of course we have to negotiate a minefield of ifs and buts, maybes and possibles before the bus even gets to the end of the drive, but at least there is some hope that we might be back on the open road by the summer.
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Food memories are powerful things, both good and bad, but mostly good for everyone. The smells obviously and the steam and heat of the kitchen, a misted up window clouding the view into the garden on a wet February back in 62, or whenever it was. Clouding the view through the front room window as well.
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We’re heading for the first anniversary of our tortured union with the coronavirus. It’s cost us an entire year’s turnover and lost revenue and we’re now eye watering amounts in debt. With lockdown likely to last until pubs and restaurants open
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