|I couldn't get a good picture of the centrepiece|
The Bricklayers Arms, in the wonderfully-named Hogpits Bottom, is by far the best of our local pubs. Despite the fact that I find the drive, through single-lane country roads bounded by high hedges, utterly terrifying, I am always happy for Paul to suggest a lunch at the Bricklayers. They smoke their own fish and meat and everything they serve is just that bit better. It's a little more expensive than some of the other pubs, but the fact that they are full up every day of the week does sort of suggest that it isn't a bad thing to charge a little more and serve better food.
|The menu writer has a novel approach to capitalisation and spelling|
My camera's limitations with low light were a serious disadvantage, because it meant I couldn't capture the beautiful flickering candles outside, or the chrysanthemum-wreathed silver candelabra centrepieces. It also meant I had to resort to the flash for the food.
the blinis I had for my birthday have spoilt me for anyone else's. My favourite of them was the puff-pastry puff, split and filled with a beautiful chicken liver parfait.
Wye Valley Autumn asparagus. The broccoli, ham and hollandaise were all very good, but I thought that tying the stalks into a bundle like that was an old-school affectation too far.
Apparently I didn't take a picture of the cheese course, but you know what cheese looks like. Very nice cheese, with crackers, grapes and celery sticks. I can't say I did it justice, having been busy converting creme brulee, steak and hollandaise into gras on my own foie. Not a bad Thursday night supper.