Holidays are good for the soul. Fact.
I write this post from a beautiful house on the side of a Cornish cliff, overlooking a beach, surrounded by good friends. Foodie friends, to boot. Disclaimer: My holiday lexicon is limited at best, so I hope you’ll embrace the simplicity of this particular post.
Newly created holiday rituals include breakfast canapés (the piece of toast that keeps one going until everyone in the house is awake and ready for proper breakfast), four o’clock gin and five o’clock fizz, followed by a delicious dinner of some description, cooked by one of the many foodies in the house and consumed in view of a stunning sunset over the sea.
One particularly memorable dinner was the result of an afternoon fishing trip, which yielded more than 50 fresh mackerel. After a reasonably gruesome but impressive gutting process, they were gently barbecued and served with sautéed new potatoes, salad and horseradish crème fraîche. Mm-mm-mmm.
With three birthdays this week there is cake aplenty, but I’ll save the baking commentary for a later post. For the time being, I’m just going to be smug about the wonderful sandy beach on which I have walked barefoot every day.