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How's Your Belly for Spots ?
A year ago it was blazing sun, this year it was a steady drizzle. Despite that life and country shows goes on.
I’d planned to come along in any case. I needed some time out in the air and dragged Martin and the kids along for company. This show is a small affair with friends meeting in friendly rivalry over everything from champion Charolais in the show to best winter wheat. With the rain setting in only the hardiest of people were still wandering the cattle lines and watching what was left of the show jumping.
We decided to spend some time with the livestock then head up the field to the tents for a little shelter. Despite getting a smart and sporty new car I still wonder about a Landrover and the chance to load the camera gear into it and head off and explore. Richard looked at the passenger seats and said, “They aren’t leather” before closing the door and heading off to examine a truck which had done this year’s Paris Dakar rally but even that couldn’t keep his interest for long and we were all soon in the food tent.“ It’s a secret what’s in it, but it will suprise you ”
“Frozen yoghurt ?”, I asked Martin. Normally it’s one of our treats on day out at a show but we looked at each other and the rain dripping from us and both agreed that today we should, reluctantly, skip it this time. “Can I have a cookie ?”, asked Joanne, always one to find an alternative and to look on the optimistic side of any possible food opportunity, so we headed down the tent in search of them.
What we came to first was the stand of Michael’s of Yorkshire. A traditional butcher offering bacon and black pudding for sale, both uncooked and, more importantly, cooked as a sandwich. “How’s your belly for spots?”, he asked Richard, who looked a little surprised, before it was his turn to look shocked as Martin replied, “and your bottom for pimples” and that sealed it. Bacon and black pudding sandwiches it was.
I travel quite often in the UK and spend a fair amount of time suffering the hotel cooked breakfast with black pudding cooked to a small, hard disc. I can recommend the breakfast at the Glenander which had what I thought was the best black pudding I’d eaten but today, Michael’s surpassed even that.
From the first bite it was special. Soft, meaty and with an unusual taste it melted in the mouth. We quizzed him about the taste, how it was made and exactly what made it so special. But to no avail. He was explaining to Richard, who was more interested in Michael’s home cured bacon, that the smallest crumb of his black pudding, if eaten, would mean he would be shaving in a week.
The best thing seemed to be to head off for the cookies and a beer to wash down the black pudding because, just as the show goes on, good food and beer always go together.
