Being so slim, so stealth-like, in fact, and hardly ever eating, if I am a bit late for a meal, my stomach starts to digest my organs.
It was because of this that we stopped at a random pub in the countryside somewhere between Lancaster and Preston. It was called The Holly.
Being the afternoon, it was between their main foodie times. All that was available was a much advertised ‘Afternoon tea’. Hmmm. Well, a pot of stewed tea, some curled up cucumber sandwiches and stale scones with a blob of jam and slightly off clotted cream would have to suffice.
What’s this? Not just a boring afternoon tea, but a super afternoon tea, a ‘British High Tea’.
They bring to the table a ‘shelf’ (above). On that shelf are balanced tiny sampler portions of, well, fish and chips, Lancashire hot pot, black pudding scotch egg, soup with croutons, numerous cakes, some sort of crème brûlée without the top being set fire to, numerous mini-pastries, and of course the scones with jam and clotted cream.
Actually it’s a mini-feast. Seriously. And amazingly only £12.50. What a lovely place. What a lovely idea. Yummm.
This is what we want.