In all the best cocktail bars and artisan food circles right now, there is a major revival happening around a deeply historic style of drink. If you look at the menus of the world's trendiest establishments, you will find countless concoctions with exotic names—but one of the most popular elements driving the craft drink scene today is the humble shrub. While it might not sound exotic or adventurous at first, the word “shrub” describes a fascinating style of drink that has been delighting palates for a very long time. Now, shrubs are taking off in popularity once again. And the shrub renaissance is being led by some of the world’s top mixologists. By using raw ingredients like ripe fruits alongside a magic elixir—otherwise known as high-quality vinegar—the inventors of these modern drinks are creating extraordinary flavours that can be enjoyed in both alcoholic and non-alcoholic serves. The Cornish History of the Fruit Shrub The story of the shrub is a fascinating one that was born centuries ago on the wild coasts of Cornwall, where barrels of smuggled rum were often tainted with seawater. In an attempt to make the stuff palatable, the ever-inventive Cornish came up with a strongly flavoured cordial to take the edge off the salty booze. Perhaps they called it “shrub” because it mainly consisted of strongly flavoured herbs picked from local hedgerows. These were infused with cider vinegar and a pinch of sugar. Shrub’s popularity crept east of the Tamar and eventually a well-known firm of vintners cashed-in by creating a branded drink of that name and marketing it far and wide. That commercial shrub is still available today, but it’s not the artisan-made, fresh concoction we’re talking about here. I first learned about true, homemade shrubs in Cornwall—at the excellent Watergate Bay Hotel just north of Newquay. Staff at the hotel staged a mixology competition, and that was where I learned that the substances fuelling the renaissance in the world’s hippest bars are very much homemade, small-batch creations. And one of the most exciting things about the concept is that you do not need to be an expert mixologist to make your own. We can easily create shrubs at home and enjoy them as sophisticated non-alcoholic cordials mixed with something like sparkling water, or as delicious cocktails armed with a punch. We can even use shrubs to flavour stocks and sauces in the kitchen. The Health Benefits of Drinking Vinegars It was the Aspall cider company’s Henry Chevallier Guild who began looking into shrub-style drinks when his wife persuaded him to join her in occasional periods of abstaining from alcohol. Henry has written about the subject, and he says that one of the difficulties of abstinence is the shortage of alternative “interesting things to drink”. Looking into the history, he discovered that vinegar (which, of course, Aspall makes in the form of superb cider vinegars) was traditionally added to drinks to make them more palatable. “The Babylonians added date vinegar to water to make it safe to drink. The Romans were at it as well, mixing vinegar and water to make a refreshing beverage called posca. Colonial-era sailors carried shrubs rich with Vitamin C aboard their boats to prevent scurvy. Unsurprisingly, shrubs gained massive popularity during the Temperance movement, and many 19th and early 20th-century housekeeping manuals contain recipes for them,” Henry explains. “A whole new world opened up. I make shrubs not from pre-packed cordials and syrups, but from the raw fruits themselves. And once you start doing this, the portfolio of options really does expand exponentially. You can use pretty much anything to make a shrub – parsnip, rosemary and cracked black pepper anyone? Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.” Both shrub and syrup are derived from the Arabic sharbah, which means ‘a drink’—just like the word sherbet. They really are very old drinks indeed. Why Top Mixologists Choose Vinegar Cocktails But today it’s all about ‘mouth-feel’. That is what you get naturally with an alcoholic drink—whereas non-alcoholic drinks tend to be overly sugared to make up for the lack of it. And this is precisely what is fuelling the modern shrub revolution. The natural acidity of the vinegar mimics that adult bite, giving a dry, clean finish that sugar alone can never achieve. The hippest bars nowadays have dedicated shrub cocktail menus, and it’s only a time before national pub chains start following suit. Shrubs have a beautiful, hand-made feel, allowing you to follow seasonal recipes as different fruits emerge through the year. But it is that crisp, acid quality that makes the real difference. Inspired by my chats with the experts, I decided to make some shrub at home after buying a couple of punnets of raspberries that were nearly past their sell-by date. Armed with a bag of satsumas, a bottle of Aspall’s cider vinegar, and a few spoonfuls of sugar, I was in business. By letting the fruit macerate in the sugar to draw out the juices before swirling in the vinegar, the results were absolutely delicious—a sharp, sweet, vibrant cordial that brings a real splash of artisan magic to the glass. Frequently Asked Questions (FAQs) Why does vinegar give non-alcoholic drinks a better 'mouth-feel'? As any good mixologist will tell you, alcohol provides a natural weight, bite, and complexity on the palate. Most standard soft drinks rely entirely on sugar to make up for this, which can leave them tasting flat and cloying. The acetic acid in high-quality vinegars replicates that sophisticated adult "bite" and dry finish, creating a deeply satisfying mouth-feel without a single drop of alcohol. What is the historic connection between Cornwall and shrub drinks? Centuries ago along the rugged Cornish coast, smuggling was a major underground trade. Barrels of rum brought ashore by smugglers were frequently contaminated or diluted by seawater during transit. To make the salty, spoiled alcohol palatable, resourceful locals created intensely flavored cordials using local hedgerow herbs, cider vinegar, and sugar to mask the brine—birthing a regional love for the shrub. How do you store a homemade fruit shrub and how long does it last? Once you have strained the fruit solids out of your shrub, pour the liquid into a clean, sterilized glass bottle or jar and seal it tightly. Store it in the refrigerator. Thanks to the high preserving qualities of both the sugar and the vinegar acid, a homemade shrub will easily keep for 6 months or more, with the flavours becoming smoother and more rounded over time. Quick-Glance Guide: The Craft Mixology Matrix This gives your digital readers an instant visual anchor, breaking down how to balance the fruit and acid: Fruit Profile Best Vinegar Choice Serve Companion Raspberry & Satsuma (Martin's Mix) Aspall's Cider Vinegar Light tonic water, plenty of ice, and a twist of citrus peel Hedgerow Blackberries Red Wine Vinegar A shot of dark rum or bourbon, topped with fiery ginger beer Rosemary & Pear White Wine Vinegar Chilled sparkling water or used to deglaze a game meat sauce

Give us this day our daily bread. The trouble with religious incantations is that you can say them so often they seem to lose meaning—but these particular words have been brought well and truly home to me recently. In a world where speed and convenience dominate everything we consume, the simple act of slowing down to make your own real bread from scratch has become a rare and deeply satisfying pleasure. This realisation is what prompted me to dust off my sourdough bread-making skills. Of course, you can’t just knock out a loaf of sourdough; you need to make and maintain a “starter” or “leaven”, which means going through a daily routine of feeding your little-world-in-a-jar, filled with busy microorganisms, for at least a week. After that, you must keep your starter going if you want to make more loaves, which means you have to keep feeding it once a day—although you can put it in the fridge for a couple of weeks to give it a holiday if needs must. It is not exactly an arduous thing to do. Basically, you need some good quality flour and a more-or-less similar-sized spoonful of lukewarm water. Keep adding this once a day to your existing mix and you will see—and smell—it begin to ferment. What you are doing is awakening wild yeasts and naturally occurring lactobacilli (a lactic acid bacteria) in the flour—as well as attracting yeast that happens to exist wherever you live—and the activity of these various friendly microbes becomes stronger and more rampant as your flour and water mix ferments. It is this wild and random mix of microscopic fungus—consisting of single oval cells—that will eventually, when it’s become alive and active enough, act to some degree like industrially made baker’s yeast in making your bread. Except the way it works on your dough is different—to the extent that even people with a gluten intolerance can get along with sourdough much better than they can with “normal” bread. The word "normal" is a bit misleading because, for thousands of years, sourdough was the only daily bread around, other than the thin, biscuit-like unleavened stuff. Archaeologists have found the remains of a sourdough loaf in Switzerland that dates back almost 6,000 years—but it was certainly being made in the Middle East’s Fertile Crescent way before that. Basically, what happens is that when wheat flour comes into contact with water, the naturally occurring enzyme ‘amylase' breaks down the starch into the sugars, glucose and maltose, which sourdough’s natural yeast can metabolise. After about a week of feeding your mix, you will see bubbles on the surface—and what you do is measure off a quantity of your starter and add it to the basic flour and water dough you’re going to make your loaf with. By carefully kneading and folding this dough—doing a set number of folds over set periods of time—you will distribute your active leaven throughout. After a while, you will be able to watch and wonder as the dough begins to swell and rise. It will also change its texture, feel, and elasticity. Which does seem to me to be a kind of magic. It is one thing to add some industrially made yeast granules to a dough and to watch it rise—but altogether something different to witness how wild yeasts, living in just a couple of spoonfuls of flour-and-water-mix, can alter the nature of a big lump of dough. It smells amazing too. As you pop down to your kitchen every once in a while to give your dough another dose of folding and kneading, you can sniff the summer fragrance of hot West Country wheat-fields. Or so it seems to me. Yes, it is all a bit of a faff. It really is so, so much easier to buy a loaf of sourdough from a supermarket. Most stores have it nowadays—although I have heard a lot of these products are not really made with natural leavens at all but are chemically doctored to create something that passes as sourdough. I do not know if that is true. But I do know that my loaf had a great deal more flavour than the supermarket stuff. Yes, it was heavier than the shop-bought and more dense—but I was warned that making sourdough is an art-form that requires endless practice to get right. But, I repeat, my loaf did have more flavour—and it did have more emotional clout. I do not want to come over all hippy-ish about this, but there is something amazingly calming, enriching, and almost spiritual about turning a dry bag of flour and a cup of water into something so satisfyingly delicious, sustaining, and good for your health. A miller at Dunster Watermill On a past visit to the National Trust’s Dunster Watermill, mill manager Stephen Hayes explained to me that fresh-ground whole-flour retains many of its essential oils, vitamins, and minerals. Sourdough experts say this is vital when it comes to forging a good starter or leaven. In fact, there is a “local grain movement” that is beginning to take hold around the globe among those who really care about their food. For aficionados, the milling process is as important as the farming techniques used to grow the grain in the first place. I even know of people who have purchased their own tiny grinding mills so that they can always have a bag of fresh ground flour to hand. Flour products at Dunster Watermill If you regard one minute a day feeding your starter or leaven as a nuisance—or can’t face four short periods of folding the dough—then making your own sourdough is not for you. But I think the effort is worth it. And now I’ve actually made a pretty good loaf, I can tell you the satisfaction levels are priceless. Basic Sourdough recipe from Bread and Butter by Richard Snapes, Grant Harrington & Eve Hemingway - published by Quadrille Ingredients For the leaven 20g (3⁄4oz) sourdough starter 40g (11⁄2oz) strong wholemeal flour 40g (11⁄2oz) strong white flour 80g (3oz) warm water (26–30°C/79–86°F) For the dough 610g (1lb 51⁄2oz) warm water (26–30°C/79–86°F) 120g (4oz) strong wholemeal flour 680g (1lb 8oz) strong white flour 16g (1⁄2oz) sea salt rice flour, for dusting Stage 1 Prepare the leaven Either make a starter from scratch one week before you intend to bake, or use a mature starter if you have one. In a small pot with a lid mix starter, flours and warm water. Leave in a warm place for 3–4 hours until there are lots of little bubbles and it smells mildly fermented. If you like your bread on the sour side, leave for a further 1–2 hours. Stage 2 Make the dough Next, weigh 560g (1lb 31⁄2oz) of the warm water into your large bowl or plastic container and add 160g (51⁄2oz) of your leaven. Combine with your fingers, then add both flours and mix until there are no more lumps. Cover with a clean tea towel and leave to rest for 30–45 minutes. Once the dough has rested, add salt and remaining 50g (13⁄4oz) of water. Scrunch the salt and water into the dough for about 3–5 minutes until the water is completely absorbed. Leave the dough to rest, covered, for 30 minutes. Stage 3 Stretch and fold, and bulk rise You’ve probably noticed that there hasn’t been anything that resembles traditional kneading, and that’s because this method requires no kneading. Sourdough takes a long time to prove compared to yeasted bread and, over the course of the bulk rise, gluten is developed naturally using a ‘stretch and fold’ technique. Once you’ve added salt to your dough and allowed it to rest, you can start stretching and folding. Wet your hands and, keeping the dough in its container, imagine the dough is a clockface. Starting at 12 o’clock, scoop your hands underneath the dough, then pull up (stretch) and fold down (fold) over the whole piece. Turn your container 90° and repeat this step (stretch, fold and turn) another three times, so you end up back where you started. These four folds are considered one ‘turn’. After completing the first turn, cover the dough. Then uncover and turn it every 30 minutes for 2–3 hours. After these 4–6 turns, the dough should have changed from loose and stretchy and should have begun to firm, tighten and contain plenty of air bubbles and have risen to nearly twice the size. Stage 4 Pre-shape After the final turn, rest the dough for 20–30 minutes. Lightly dust the top of the dough with flour and, using a plastic dough scraper, gently coax it away from the edges of the container. Then turn the container upside down and wait for the dough to naturally release itself onto your (unfloured) work surface. Divide the dough into two equal parts using a metal scraper. Put one piece aside while you focus on the other. Fold the bottom of the dough over the top so it is now floured on the top and bottom. At this point you shouldn’t need to use any more flour – you don’t want to the dough to slide around on the surface. Holding your scraper in one hand, work the dough into a round, tucking the sides of the dough underneath itself and tightening the surface until it’s smooth and bouncy. The idea is to build tension. Repeat with the other piece of dough, then cover both with a clean tea towel and leave to rest for 20 minutes. Stage 5 Final shape and retarding After resting, lightly flour both pieces of dough and flip them over so the floured side is on the worktop. Take hold of the edge of the dough at 2 o’clock and fold it into the middle, securing it with the thumb of your other hand. Rotate the dough about 30° and again fold the 2 o’clock edge to the middle, securing with your thumb. Repeat this process until you have rotated the dough through 360°. It should feel strong and bouncy and have noticeable resistance. Now you have a ball, flip it over so the smooth side is facing up. Cup your hand round the ball and pull towards you, so that the anchoring dough ‘seals’ itself. Now you have a fully shaped loaf! Repeat for the other loaf. Dust your proving baskets or tea-towel-lined bowls with rice flour (or some strong white flour), then place your loaves in them with their rough sides facing up. Cover with a tea towel, leave to prove in a warm place for 1 hour and then refrigerate overnight; the loaves will be ready to bake first thing in the morning. Stage 6 Bake Put a cast-iron pot in the oven and preheat to 250C (480oF). Take one loaf out of the fridge and turn it out into the pot, being careful not to burn yourself. Holding a sharp knife at a 30° angle, make four shallow slashes in the top of the loaf, in a criss-cross or other pattern, then cover with the lid and place in the oven. Turn the temperature down to 220°C (425°F) after 10 minutes, then remove the lid after another 10 minutes – you should be greeted by a huge cloud of steam and a glorious smell. Bake (lid off) for another 20–25 minutes until dark golden brown, and you are done. Take the loaf out of its baking vessel and repeat with the second loaf. Frequently Asked Questions (FAQs) How long does it take to make a sourdough starter from scratch? It typically takes between 7 to 10 days of daily feeding to build a strong, active sourdough starter. You will know it is ready when it consistently doubles in size a few hours after a feed, develops a pleasant, tangy fruit aroma, and shows plenty of active bubbles throughout the jar. Why is sourdough considered better for digestion than commercial bread? The long fermentation process inherent to sourdough baking allows the wild yeasts and lactic acid bacteria to break down the starches and complex proteins (including gluten) within the flour. This pre-digestion process makes the resulting loaf much gentler on the human digestive system, allowing many people with minor gluten sensitivities to enjoy it without discomfort. Can I use standard supermarket white flour for my sourdough starter? While you can use standard strong white bread flour, using unbleached stoneground or wholemeal flour—such as traditional flour from Dunster Watermill—is highly recommended for starting a leaven. Traditional stoneground flours retain the natural grain husks and essential oils which carry a much higher concentration of the wild yeasts and beneficial microbes needed to spark a healthy fermentation. The Sourdough Routine: Fold & Rise To help keep readers on your website longer, here is a quick-glance breakdown of the traditional sourdough process that turns standard text into an easily digestible schedule: 1.Build the Starter:Days 1–7. Mix equal parts flour and lukewarm water in a clean glass jar once a day. Discard half before each feed until the mixture becomes bubbly, active, and smells beautifully fruity and sour. 2.Mix the Autolyse:30 minutes. Gently combine your flour, water, and a portion of your active starter. Let it rest for half an hour to allow the flour to fully hydrate and kickstart natural enzyme activity before adding salt. 3.Stretch and Fold:2–3 hours. Instead of heavy kneading, perform a series of gentle stretches and folds every 30 minutes. This builds a strong, elastic gluten structure without knocking the trapped wild carbon dioxide out of the dough. 4.The Bulk Fermentation:4–6 hours. Let the shaped dough rest in a proving basket. Watch it swell as the wild yeasts metabolise the sugars, transforming the dense mixture into a light, airy dough ready for a hot oven.

A handful of people who live out in the countryside are comfortable in the knowledge that they can go out and forage for food entirely for free. One of those people is my old friend, Devon chef David Beazley, who must be one of the most knowledgeable cook-foragers in the country. David Beazley estuary foraging at Teignmouth-Shaldon on the Teign I have been lucky enough to join David on several wild food adventures over the years. On one memorable outing in the dead-end of January, we tracked the tide lines along the estuarine Teign at Shaldon, opposite Teignmouth, cooking our harvest right on the beach despite sudden showers of rain and stinging hail. David is an absolute enthusiast when it comes to food for free. His passion isn't about cost or expense; it is all to do with the amazing flavours and textures of the foods he finds, and the sheer joy of the hunt. As we stood looking out over the sandbanks, he told me: “Food foraging is about the hunt rather than the find. The find is just the bonus.” I agree with this completely. My theory is that some folk are simply more connected to their inner prehistoric hunter-gatherer than others. Our ancestors relied on hunting and foraging as their sole means of survival for tens of thousands of years, while we modern folk have only been buying stuff in markets for a few centuries. I reckon there are basic instincts lurking within us that are highly capable of pushing buttons of accomplishment, achievement, and absolute delight. And his passion is not about cost or expense, or lack thereof - it is all to do with the amazing flavours and textures of the foods he finds, and about the joys of the hunt. In fact, when we met on the shores of the estuarine Teign at Shaldon, opposite the much larger community of Teignmouth, he told me: “Food foraging is about the hunt rather than the find. The find is the bonus…” I agree with this, but can imagine there are many people who won’t. My theory is that some folk are more connected to the inner prehistoric hunter-gatherer than others. Our ancestors relied on hunting and foraging as the only means of survival for tens of thousands of years, while we modern folk have only been buying stuff in markets and so on for just a few centuries - so I reckon there could easily be some basic instincts lurking within us which are capable of pushing buttons of accomplishment, achievement and delight. I could use all three of these words to describe my feelings about spending a couple of hours with David hunting, picking and cooking on the somewhat icy shores and sandbanks of the Teign. Despite being well wrapped up against the cold, one of those storms was in full swing when we met - so we sat in the car for ten minutes waiting for the hail to pass and David told me something of his career and his love for food foraging… From Michelin Star Kitchens to the Foreshore It was as a boy, following in the wake of his father’s almost magical familiarity with Cornwall’s precipitous cliffs and beaches, that David first learned about what he calls “the bounty of pick-your-own crabs and prawns,” and his curiosity for foraging was born. Classically trained at Cornwall Technical College, David began his professional career at the acclaimed Horn of Plenty as third chef to Sonia Stevenson, after which he went to work for another formidably talented, Michelin-starred female chef—Joyce Molyneaux at the Carved Angel in Dartmouth. “She wanted to use local ingredients and, as her second chef, I couldn’t have agreed more—so I provided rich pickings for her from my forays into the countryside and foreshore,” David recalled. “But that was after I realised that people bringing in chanterelles and ceps were earning as much as I did during a whole week for a basket of wild mushrooms. I knew what those mushrooms looked like, so I decided to give it a go.” David’s professional career continued—including a stint as head chef for Keith Floyd at his once-famous Tuckenhay restaurant and pub on the River Dart—but all the time he continued foraging for free, and for fun. He carried that lifelong inspiration into the next generation of culinary talent during his years as a tutor at Exeter College, teaching at the Michael Caines Academy. The Winter Shoreline Harvest “It’s more of a hobby and I do a bit of photography and writing alongside. Actually I wrote a book called The Forager’s Apprentice which is available for download on Amazon. But actually it’s a chance for me to cook and experiment with wild ingredients. “My first wild food away from mushrooms were wild strawberries - I used to make tiny little sweet pastry tarts with them and with little blueberries or whortleberries. Then I moved on to the beach. Of course, nowadays sea vegetables are a new thing. I’m not talking about seaweed, which is covered by tide every day. The sea veg grows up above on the shoreline and you’d be amazed at what’s out there now at this time of year. “Here in Shaldon we’ll pick three or four different sea-veg leaves - a lot of these things seem to grow in late winter, early spring when you know there isn’t any lettuce growing. Today we’re picking sea-beet, wild fennel and rock-samphire. “It may be one of those trends that passes over, like micro-herbs,” shrugged David. “I mean, who needs micro-herbs? Why not just eat herbs? So some food foraging might become one of those trends that passes over. But I don’t think so. What the items I pick all have in common is that they’re all luxury stuff. I don’t want to pick a leaf off to make some strange wine - I want a gourmet experience. “It is all about the flavours,” he adds. “And so, for instance, on the way here I picked wild watercress and sorrel which will enhance a lot of dishes at this time of year…” With that the storm had cleared and off we went across the great sand a mussel banks at Shaldon which were rapidly becoming ever more apparent in the ebbing tide. “The local authority really keeps its eye on the water quality in this estuary,” explained David. “You’ll will notice a sign on the beach saying to make sure you cook any shellfish you pick for three minutes. That’s what we will be doing anyway because we’re making mussel broth. It’s a dish I really love, partly because I make the cider that goes into it at home. “Nowadays, sea vegetables are the big thing," he explained. "I’m not talking about seaweed, which is covered by the tide every day. The sea veg grows just above the shoreline, and you’d be amazed at what’s out there, even in the colder months. A lot of these things seem to grow in late winter and early spring, right when you know there isn’t any conventional lettuce growing in the garden. Today we’re picking sea-beet, wild fennel, and rock-samphire.” These coastal specialists have to be incredibly tough to survive the salt spray and brackish waters, and that survival mechanism gives them an extraordinary punch of flavour. When tossed into a hot pan with a bit of local butter right there on the beach, they offer a direct, intense taste of the West Country coast that transforms a simple meal into something extraordinary. “So the only thing I buy for the broth is a bit of cream - everything else is free - a fine-dining dish that comes from the wild,” said David as we quickly picked enough mussels near the Shaldon-Teignouth bridge, which is where we also found the sea-vegetables clinging like so many weeds to the wall in a south-facing corner. Later we found a sheltered spot on a quayside, just out of the cold north wind, and began to cook the broth. “You see why I like making this?” said David. “I’ve been able to use my knowledge of foraging with my training as a chef. A lot of chefs know how to cook these things, but not how to find them. And, vice-versa, there will be people who know how to find these things, but won’t know how to cook them.” David was a master of both, that is for certain. The broth was fantastically delicious. “When you start, it’s like hunting a needle in a haystack, but you get better at it over the years,” David told me as we waited out a passing hailstorm. “I do it for my own pleasure, but I do occasionally take people out if they are truly enthusiastic. What I find is people say, ‘Dave, can you take me out foraging?’ But all they really want to do is go mushrooming. Then if we find 40 or 50 different varieties and I tell them only one or two are edible, it puts them off.” For David, the foreshore offers a much more reliable and fascinating arena. David Beazley’s Devon Mussel Broth 1 kilo cleaned mussels 125 mls dry Devon cider 125 mls Devon double cream 50g shredded sea beet 25g blanched rock samphire 25 g shredded fennel In a large saucepan for which you have a lid, add the cider and reduce by half. Add the cleaned mussels and cover with the lid, turn up the heat and leave for three minutes or until all of the mussels are open, discard any that remain closed. Strain the liquid from the mussels into a bowl. Remove the mussels from their shells. Return the liquid to the saucepan, add the cream and bring to the boil, remove from the heat. Add the leaves and the mussels, taste and adjust the seasoning too your preference, and enjoy.

Chef Allister Bishop and Simon Richardson, a professional forager - at work in Devon some years ago Quite a few people have been contacting me lately to ask about the art of foraging for wild food. It is a fascinating subject that captures the imagination of anyone who loves good food, but it is an avenue of culinary exploration that requires a bit of know-how before you step out into the fields and hedgerows. I am fortunate in this respect for two reasons. Not only do I live deep in the West Country countryside, where nature’s larder wakes up fast with the changing seasons, but over my decades as a journalist, I’ve been lucky enough to head out into the wild with some of the region's top chefs and professional foragers. On one memorable coastal trek, I joined forces with a highly talented executive chef who had recently traded the intense, fast-paced pressure of central London kitchens for the rich bounty of the South West coast. His reaction to the move stayed with me: “I spent over 25 years working in central London where I was getting ingredients that were two or three days old—here I am getting stuff that’s two or three hours old.” That is the magic of foraging. It bypasses the entire industrial food supply chain, offering a freshness and intensity of flavour that money simply cannot buy. And, by the way, in case you think this is an elitist sport only applicable to those who live out in the sticks, then please note than almost 15 million people in the UK live in highly rural areas… I am fortunate in this respect for two reasons… Not only do I live deep in the countryside which is waking up fast in this wonderful spring weather, but I’ve also interviewed quite a few top chefs down the years and have been lucky enough to go out wild-food foraging with them… One of those chefs was the talented Allister Bishop, who used to be head chef at a hotel near Salcombe… Good chefs like to use first-class ingredients that are as fresh as can be, so imagine what it must be like working in a vast city far from fields, seas, rivers, moorlands or anywhere else that provides edible produce. Then imagine such a chef being set free of the urban jungle to work on a beautiful coast surrounded by verdant countryside rich in fresh ingredients. Or, to put it into the words of Allister: “I spent over 25 years working in central London where I was getting ingredients that were two or three days old - here I am getting stuff that’s two or three hours old.” I first met Allister back in the winter when he was still reeling with joy after a year spent at the idyllically situated hotel in South Devon. He told me then something about his career and about how delighted he was to be living and working in an area where he was surrounded by the finest fresh ingredients imaginable. Allister held executive chef positions at places like Harrods and The Meridian in Piccadilly, so he is a man who knows what he is doing when it comes to pots, pans and the things you put in them. Meeting a Professional Forager To ensure we didn't pick anything that might land us in trouble, we were joined by Simon Richardson, a professional forager who has spent years supplying high-end kitchens with wild herbs and sea vegetables. Simon spends his days traversing coastal paths, estuaries, and private estates, hunting for plants that many regular walkers would simply dismiss as common weeds. Yet, in the hands of a skilled chef, these wild ingredients become the stars of the plate. Ingredients like sea-purslane, sea-aster, sea-arrowgrass, rock samphire, and goosefoot have become incredibly trendy in modern British gastronomy. And there is one simple reason for their rise to fame: they are utterly delicious. Why we British do not have a stronger, mainstream culinary tradition of eating such things remains a mystery to me—just as I am puzzled as to why we’ve never fully taken to incorporating free, plentiful, and safe-to-eat seaweeds into our daily diets. Whatever the reason, the wild food harvest is finally being taken seriously, which is wonderful news for those of us who love to explore new flavours. The Golden Rules of the Hedgerow However, when it comes to wild harvesting, there are two golden rules that every aspiring forager must live by. First, a great many wild plants can make you incredibly ill—or worse—so absolute certainty in identification is paramount. Second, you must know how to forage sustainably so that you never damage the local ecosystem. “There has been a huge increase in interest in foraged food, but there are distinct dangers,” Simon warned as we examined an estuary bank. “Wild watercress, for example, loves growing alongside hemlock and water dropwort—both of which are potentially deadly. It’s all about building proper, deep knowledge before you start harvesting.” As we walked towards a forgotten corner of salt marsh, the conversation turned back to the kitchen. The consensus among top chefs is clear: when you are working with ingredients this fresh and naturally flavourful, the key is simplicity. There is absolutely no need to over-complicate the dish or over-season the food. You simply respect the ingredient and let the natural salinity and crunch of the wild coast do the talking. Reconnecting with the Land Chefs drift across different kitchens over the years, but the fundamental connection between the land, the sea, and the plate remains unchanged. Foraging isn't just about finding a free snack; it’s about slow food, sustainability, and training your eye to see the landscape in an entirely new way. The common stinging nettle, often cursed by gardeners, makes a vibrant, velvety soup that rivals any cultivated spinach. The wild garlic that blankets our woodlands in spring offers a delicate, pungent punch that transforms a simple risotto. Nature provides an astonishingly rich menu if you only know where to look. So the next time you take a stroll along a coastal path or through a quiet country lane, keep your eyes open. You might just be walking past the finest meal of the season. "Being out of the kitchen and seeing where the food is coming from is inspirational,” said Allister as we picked sea-purslane amid the saltings. “It also inspires the rest of the team, because a kitchen is not a one man show. Some chefs think it is, but I know I’m only as good as the rest of the team. Trying new ideas like working with these ingredients helps a lot. “If the customer goes away happy trying a new experience - like eating sea-purslane or sea-aster that you certainly wouldn’t get in Asda or Lidl - that can only benefit us and also the local economy. It makes us more unique in what we are doing. “I’ve seen this industry change so much over the last 30 years,” he continued as we drove to a South Hams beach in search of sea-kale. “Everything used to come in nice vac-packed bags and was so clinical. Now we get stuff with a bit of dirt on it and we wash it - but it’s all about real flavour.” Next we went to Marlborough in the hills just behind the hotel to visit butcher Alex Brazier who has a flock of Devon Close Wool sheep which Allister often uses in lamb dishes. “It’s good meat because it takes that little bit longer to grow,” said Alex. “You are getting a little bit more fat, a lot more flavour. The sheep do very well here - there is a mild climate so they put on a good weight.” To reiterate the warning…. Do be VERY CAREFUL if and when you go out foraging for wild food. We all know what a stinging nettle is (and as I’ve said before, they are good to eat) but establishing whether or not that plant in the stream is wild watercress is another matter altogether. Much more difficult - if in doubt do not pick. THE NHS already has enough to do without clueless risk-takers joining the queue. Allister Bishop’s Devon lamb rump, Salcombe crab soufflé, minted pea & wild nettle puree, potato & seaweed croquette Foraged ingredients ready for the pot in Devon I realise this is quite a complex recipe, but it might give you inspiration and of course you can always try making it once the world has returned to some semblance or normality… 4 lamb rumps 4 garlic cloves, cracked 2 sprigs of wild sorrel 2 sprigs of rosemary, plus extra for cooking the rumps 100ml of olive oil 2 tbsp of pomace oil Marinade the lamb rumps for 24 hours in olive oil, crushed garlic cloves, sorrel, rosemary Minted Pea & nettle purée 10g of shallots, very finely diced 10g chopped mint 2 x sprigs nettle tops washed throughly 1 tbsp of oil 200g of fresh garden peas 4g of salt 100ml of milk Sweat shallots in oil until soft but not coloured. Add garden peas, nettle, salt and milk and simmer for 8 minutes. Drain milk into a jug and pour peas, nettles and mint into a blender. Blitz until ultra smooth adding enough of the milk to make a thickish purée. After blending, cool quickly as the colour will begin to fade. Croquette 200g potatoes, quartered and turned into a dry mash potato 1 shallot, minced 100g of fresh dulce/ sea lettuce 15g of parsley, finely chopped 1 tsp rapeseed oil 150g of plain flour 3 large eggs, beaten 200g of panko breadcrumbs oil, for frying salt and fresh ground black pepper Chop seaweed into a bowl, and fold in mash potato, lemon zest, chopped parsley and seasoning. Divide mix into even pieces and roll into balls with your hands. Place in fridge for 15 minutes to firm up. To coat the fritters place flour, beaten eggs and breadcrumbs in 3 bowls, seasoning with salt and pepper. Dip chilled croquettes first in flour, then eggs, then breadcrumbs. Return to fridge to chill for a few minutes. Soufflé 150g of fresh white crab meat 300g of spinach 150 ml milk 33g of flour 30g of butter 1/2 tsp mustard 1/2 tsp ground nutmeg 53g of mature cheddar, grated 5 eggs, separated 16g of Parmesan, grated 1 pinch of salt 1 pinch of pepper Place the white crab meat into a bowl. Heat oil in a frying pan, add the spinach, so that it wilts. Remove and drain. Grease inside of the metal rings, place onto a greased baking tray. Divide spinach into 4 rings. Bring flour, 115ml milk, butter, mustard and ground nutmeg to the boil, whisking continuously. Turn down heat, simmer for 2 minutes, remove from the heat. Add to a mixing bowl and whisk in 37g of grated cheddar until it melts. Using a handheld electric whisk, whisk egg whites to the hard peak stage, add egg yolks and mix. Add crab and mix, fold in egg whites. Divide mix into the metal rings. Place in an oven set to 180°C for 12 minutes. Combine the remaining cheddar and Parmesan in a bowl. Remove from the oven and place the grated cheddar and Parmesan on top. Allow the soufflés to cool. With a sharp knife, gently go round inside of the ring to remove. Sauce 20g of shallots 50ml of dry white wine 1 bay leaf 200ml of brown chicken stock 20g of butter salt and pepper Remove some fat from lamb roasting tray and heat in small pan. Add shallots and leave to sweat until lightly browned, then deglaze with wine. Add bay leaf and simmer until reduced and pan is almost dry. Then, add chicken stock and reduce by 2/3, whisking in butter and checking seasoning. To assemble Place a roasting pan over a high heat and add the olive oil. Season lamb and seal until lightly golden brown all over. Transfer to oven and roast for 8 - 12 minutes, remove and rest. Slice and arrange. Arrange the reheated puree, croquette and soufflé next to the lamb, drizzle with the sauce, garnish with foraged herbs and shelled peas. Frequently Asked Questions (FAQs) Is it legal to forage for wild food in the UK? Generally, under UK common law, you are allowed to forage for the "Four Fs"—fruit, foliage, fungi, and flowers—for personal consumption from public land or rights of way. However, it is illegal to uproot any wild plant without the landowner's explicit permission, and foraging is strictly prohibited in specific protected areas like SSSIs (Sites of Special Scientific Interest). Always forage responsibly and leave plenty behind. What are the easiest wild ingredients for beginners to identify? For beginners in the UK, wild garlic (ramsons) in the spring and blackberries or elderberries in the autumn are excellent starting points because they are highly distinctive and have few dangerous lookalikes. Dandelion greens and young stinging nettles are also incredibly common and easy to identify safely. How can I tell the difference between edible plants and toxic lookalikes? Never eat any wild plant unless you are one hundred percent certain of its identity. Use multiple reputable field guides, look at cross-referencing features (such as stem structure, leaf patterns, and smell), and when in doubt, leave it out. Joining a guided foraging walk with an expert is the safest way to build your confidence and knowledge.

What Makes a Classic English Tea-Garden So Special? If you were playing host to a foreign guest who had never been to the UK before, which unique British delight would you be tempted to show them at this sunny time of year? A country pub with a garden, perhaps? Well, you can never go wrong with a country pub, but other countries have bars or restaurants that are similar to pubs in many ways. The classic English tea-garden, however, represents a little corner of earthly paradise which is hardly ever seen elsewhere. Tea-Garden Culture in the British Summertime If this were the middle of winter, I might rephrase that to say “tea-room” - but, given the fine weather, it’s time to celebrate that very English experience that can be found outdoors across our green and pleasant land. A Walk Through Britain’s Garden Cream Tea Spots We’re talking about those little places - basically, private homes - where the owners have thrown open their gardens so that visitors can enjoy a classic cream tea, or some other culinary delight of the lighter and less substantial kind, out among the lawns and herbaceous borders. From Hidden Hamlets to National Trust Estates They come in all shapes and sizes. Some, indeed, are not private homes at all, but popular tea-gardens belonging to large organisations like the National Trust. Others are to be found attached to cafes in little oases of peacefulness and greenery in the centre of villages or towns. You’ll find many exquisite versions of the genre set in the grounds of luxury or boutique hotels. My Favourite: The Surprise Tea-Garden in the Countryside But my favourite type of tea-garden is the kind of place you stumble across in out-of-the-way corners of the countryside. I’m talking about somewhere that’s literally someone’s private garden where they’ve simply scattered around a few tables and chairs and they serve a very limited menu from the cottage door. The Joy of Walking to a Cream Tea This kind of tea-garden scores even more points for me if there’s some kind of country walk to be enjoyed nearby. You need the ability to burn off all those calories to be found in a classic cream tea. Forget the Jam or Cream First Debate And, by the way, I am not going down the cream-or-jam-first rabbit-hole in this article... Setting and Scenery Matter Most Far more important to me is the location of the said cream tea... Somerset Tea-Gardens to Discover I visited two such places located within ten minutes drive of my West Somerset home this week... Chantry Tea Garden, Kilve: Tea Among the Ruins This place ticks all my perfect tea-garden boxes. It is located in one of the least-visited sections of the Westcountry coastline and the tea-garden enjoys an air of intrigue and mystery, being set among the historic ruins of an ancient chantry. Just a short walk away you’ll come to one of the most amazing beaches in England. Although it’s not for the bucket-and-spade crew (no clear seas or golden sands), Kilve beach is rich in fossils which you can find out among the extraordinary blue-lias “pavements” that are a highly unusual feature of the place. Nick and Jacqui Dawe have lived in the cottage next to Kilve’s chantry for 40 years and have been running their popular tea-garden for the last 34 years. To find it, turn north out of the village of Kilve and head down the small lane a mile towards the coast. You will see the church and the chantry - and the tea-garden has its own car park. You get a generous cream tea at The Chantry, and some of the other food looked good too. All of it comes on recyclable plates or in cups - same goes for the cutlery - which would be a minus for some, although I didn’t mind (with the exception of the flimsy paper carton containing the wonderfully thick cream -it was fiddly getting the clotted treasure out and onto the scone). My wife and I shared a single cream tea (two large scones, cream and jam) and ordered two individual pots of tea at a cost of £11, which was fine by me. A Scenic Walk from East Quantoxhead For those in need of a walk, I can recommend parking a mile away to the west in the sublimely lovely and peaceful hamlet of East Quantoxhead, where nothing seems to have changed for centuries. There’s a small car park with an honesty box - you walk past the large village duckpond and take the public footpath across the fields. This takes you directly to Kilve Church and The Chantry tea-garden. After you’ve indulged, you can enjoy a flat but highly scenic stroll back by walking down the lane to the beach, then turning left along the coast path to reach the the point where another right-of-way will take you back inland to East Quantoxhead. Wonderful! One of the nicest things to do in the entire South West region on a sunny afternoon. You’ll see no crowds, but you will experience a very different kind of coast to any other in the UK and get to enjoy a super cream tea. This place ticks all my perfect tea-garden boxes. It is located in one of the least-visited sections of the West Country coastline and, according to local historian Beth Shuey, the tea-garden enjoys an air of intrigue and mystery, being set among the historic ruins of an ancient chantry. Just a short walk away you’ll come to one of the most amazing beaches in England. The Rocking Horse Tea Garden, near Stogumber: A Hidden Gem This popular and handsome venue has only been up and running for four years. Located in what is an extensive private garden deep in unspoiled countryside, it evolved after the owners were forced to adapt their catering business during the Covid lockdowns. They’re glad they did. People now travel miles to visit this lovely tea-garden and enjoy beautiful views of the hills and dales of rural West Somerset. Mum, Julie Long, owns the place and lives in the house, but daughter Charlie runs the extensive and busy tea-garden everyday of the week except for Wednesdays (9:30 to 5:00). “People love to come here for tea or lunch and simply chill-out in the gardens, although we have extended our indoor cafe area for when the weather’s not so nice,” Julie told me. There is indeed a large area with tables and chairs both inside a barn and also out on a covered terrace which enjoys extensive views of what one famous writer on agriculture called the “Dingly Dell Land”. We’re talking about the little visited central area of West Somerset which climbs in a series of hummocks towards the Brendon Hills. There’s also a hugely impressive carp pond in a secluded part garden (impressive because the fish are gigantic) where you can sit in a sun-trap out of the wind. The Rocking Horse tea-garden also ticks many boxes. It is set in a highly rural landscape between the villages of Stogumber and Crowcombe - there are plenty of wonderful walks to be had on the nearby Quantocks or in the magical area of Crowcombe Heathfield, which is even closer. It’s also just a short walk from Stogumber Station on the West Somerset heritage railway line (the station also has its own tearoom, by the way). I had a slice of quiche at The Rocking Horse, served with salad and crisps for £10.25. A plain or fruit scone with clotted cream and jam is £5.35. Now for some other Somerset tea-gardens as recommended by Hesp Out West readers online… IF YOU ENJOYED THIS POST HAVE A LOOK AT ANOTHER ENGLISH TEA BASED ARTICLE More Somerset Tea-Gardens Recommended by Readers Periwinkle Tea Rooms and Gardens, Seaworthy A wonderful little place with truly magnificent views... Horner Tea Garden, near Porlock Situated at the foot of one of the most scenic and special valleys on Exmoor... Kitnor Tea Room and Garden, Bossington Under new ownership and said to be opening soon... No.57 East Street, Ilminster As recommended by a reader called Carmel Wilkinson... Millhouse Arts Centre and Cafe, Ilminster Sit beside the River Isle and enjoy... Share Your Favourite Tea-Garden As I say, we will revisit the subject soon - so if you have any recommendations for tea-gardens elsewhere in the West Country email them to me at martinhesp1@gmail.com. Frequently Asked Questions What is the difference between an English tea garden and a tea room? While both serve traditional tea and scones, an English tea garden is specifically an outdoor space—often set within a courtyard, orchard, or walled garden—allowing you to enjoy the British countryside and fresh air. Tea rooms are typically indoor, more formal establishments. What is traditionally served with a cream tea in a tea garden? An authentic cream tea consists of freshly brewed loose-leaf tea, warm baked scones, clotted cream, and strawberry jam. Should jam or clotted cream go on a scone first? This depends on where you are! In Devon, the tradition is to split the scone and spread the clotted cream first, topping it with jam. In Cornwall, the jam goes on first, followed by a dollop of clotted cream. Both ways are delicious, but locals take the distinction very seriously.

We all enjoy fresh food, but have you ever stopped to think how far it has travelled? Across Britain, farm shops, farmers' markets and independent producers are bringing people closer to the source of their food. Choosing local produce isn't just about flavour—it supports rural communities, reduces food miles and keeps traditional farming alive. It can be the little things that you miss… And what I miss right now are those little honesty boxes you used to see dotted all over the place selling a few home-grown vegetables and eggs. I am now the proud owner of a brace of carrots and three onions. That’s it on the Hesp vegetable front. Thank god for wild garlic and stinging nettles… We’ve got pulses and some other dried veg that I put in jars last year in times of plenty - life dried wild mushrooms and apple rings - and we’ve got some meat in the freezer I managed to rescue from my storm damaged outbuilding. But if you are in lockdown and not going anywhere near major shops or supermarkets, fresh green vegetables are a difficult thing to come by. Why Local Food Tastes Better Oh for those little honesty boxes you used to see. There are not so many now, alas, but in my 20 years working for the Western Morning News as a roving feature wearer I built up a mental network of such places where I’d call to buy fresh vegetables, eggs and the like from the gateways of little smallholdings here and there or just from places where very good gardeners had a surplus which they’d sell for a few pounds, or more likely pence… The Benefits of Seasonal Eating Here’s what a reader called Rosie Oxenham, of North Devon, once wrote to me in an eloquently call for us to do more to celebrate the region’s micro-producers. … “I absolutely adore being out in the wilds, turning a corner, and there… a table or cupboard outside a cottage, selling their own produce,” enthused Rosie. But she added: “It is a rare sight these days - so all the more thrilling to find. Sweet-peas tied up with wool in little bunches - giving off a perfume that no shop flowers ever have - freshly laid brown eggs, cakes, lettuce, bundles of runner beans, the most delicious jams and chutneys, pots of herbs and plants. It is endless. The 'honesty box' for payment, often holding small change… “Ah, that feeling of being watched - so that you make all your actions in an exaggerated way to prove you are honest!” The old street market at Holsworthy Supporting Local Farmers I knew exactly what Rosie meant - and now wish the my parish had a few such places where we could do a bit of hyper-local germ-free shopping for home-grown items. My old friend, Matthew Mason, once head chef at the hugely successful Jack in the Green at Rockbeare, just outside Exeter, is another fan of such places… “I run to work most days so I spend an awful lot of time in country lanes,” Matt once told me. “If there’s a breed of cow, I’m interested. If I run past the fresh eggs on sale out in front of the cottages, I’m interested. You get boxes of cooking apples on sale – then I know it’s time to get apple sauce with pork on Sunday.” Matt Mason collecting local vegetables Matthew has been at Jack in the Green for more than a quarter of a century and is a long-term adherent to the concept that food should come from a local landscape – the “terroire” as the French call it. “It is all about the quality - you mentioned terroire and that is what should be happening here in the West Country. But it's as much about the people as well - you have to forge these relationships and that’s just as important.” A spring vegetable dish created by chef Matt Mason Reducing Food Miles All this - and the old fashioned farm gate honesty box - is a long way from the food we have become used to buying. The idea that we eat burgers from cattle raised in prairies that were recently Brazilian rainforest, that we consume lettuce leaves grown hydroponically in polluting Spanish poly-tunnels, that we slurp fruit drinks made from industrially grown produce located thousands of miles from our own homely orchards… all this is crazy. In his book We Want Real Food, my good friend Graham Harvey describes how he recently looked down on the M5 while standing on a bridge in the West Country – his intention was to count how many food lorries would pass under his feet within an hour. After 20 minutes he gave up. Writer Graham Harvey taking a stroll through gardens in Somerset with actor and cider-maker Tim Bannerman Why Restaurants Should Source Locally “By then the total stood at 36, most of them in the livery of the major supermarkets,” writes Graham who for many years was agricultural story editor of the BBC radio soap, The Archers. “And I hadn’t even counted the unmarked refrigerated trucks that seemed very likely to be carrying food. “Every hour of the day, thousands of food products are hauled across the road system of Britain,” he says. “Food transport now accounts for a quarter of all miles driven in the UK by heavy goods vehicles, and it’s responsible for almost ten million tonnes of carbon dioxide emissions.” In the book, Graham despairs over the ruination of the nation’s rich fertile soils caused by what has, until now, been a rapidly increasing reliance on chemical fertilisers, herbicides and pesticides – and he pleads for the good, sensible, tried and tested, agricultural techniques of yesteryear. Techniques that were once prevalent in the hills and dales of the West Country… Not far from where Graham was standing on the motorway bridge there is a beautiful, largely unspoilt vale that is a heavenly patchwork of fields, woods and hedges. The rich and fertile valley is formed of new red sandstones in which you can grow just about anything, and it is protected from the weather by the hills of the Brendon and Quantock escarpments. As Mr Harvey explains in his book, this vale was once referred to as “hillock and dingle country” by the writer H.J. Massingham, who was an astute observer of rural matters in the 1930’s and 40’s. Massingham came to West Somerset to visit farmers in the vale and was hugely impressed by their farming techniques. Relying on no artificial fertilisers whatsoever, most were able to harvest huge quantities of produce from relatively small parcels of land. “One couple grew enough on their tiny four and half acre plot to feed an entire village,” says Mr Harvey, who has made a study of Massingham’s work. “Their wartime crops included strawberries, early and main crop potatoes, orchard fruits, plus a greater diversity of vegetables than many a grower with 44 acres of ‘fat and level land’. How Villagers in the South West Would Feed Themselves From Within the Parish “In addition there were enough pasture, fodder crops and flowers to support a pony, over 100 chickens, goats, ewes, a breeding sow and her litter of eight, and 30 hives of bees…” It seems almost mind-boggling when you realise that such people barely exist any more. I say that as a person whose own great-grandfather farmed parcels of land in the heart of “hillock and dingle country”. Free range chickens at a farm in Somerset Every village in West Somerset had such people when I was a boy – now I know of not a single one. Graham Harvey calls this “real farming”. It’s the art of growing things without having to go to the bank manager to borrow money to pay the man who sells you the chemicals that grow your crops but which ruin your soil. It’s the sort of age-old farming that relies on the rotation of crops and plenty of good manure gleaned from the animals which live upon the plants you grow. It is a cycle and it is about putting something back as well as taking stuff out. It is not rocket-science. I will return to the subject of real local food - and to chats and interviews I’ve had with Graham - in upcoming posts. You may not have time to read the stuff or to listen to it - but I have a feeling that time is one thing we will all be rich in over the coming weeks, even if we have run out of onions… IF YOU'VE ENJOYED THIS ARTICLE, TAKE A LOOK AT OUR PAGE ON CIDER AND PERRY Frequently Asked Questions Q: Why is locally grown food better? A: Locally grown food is often fresher because it travels a much shorter distance from field to plate. This can mean better flavour, improved nutritional value and a smaller environmental impact through reduced food miles. Q: What are the benefits of buying local food? A: Buying local food supports independent farmers, growers and food producers, helps strengthen rural economies, preserves traditional farming practices and keeps more money within local communities. It also gives shoppers access to seasonal produce at its best. Q: What are food miles? A: Food miles measure the distance food travels from where it is produced to where it is eaten. Reducing food miles can help lower transport emissions and encourage more sustainable food choices, although production methods also play an important role in a food's overall environmental impact. Q: Where can I buy locally grown food in Britain? A: Farm shops, farmers' markets, independent greengrocers, pick-your-own farms and many local delicatessens offer fresh regional produce. Increasingly, restaurants and pubs also highlight locally sourced ingredients on their menus. Q: Why does seasonal food taste better? A: Fruit and vegetables harvested at their natural peak are generally fresher, more flavourful and often require fewer preservatives than produce imported from overseas or grown out of season. Q: How does buying local food help the environment? A: Choosing local produce can reduce transport emissions, support environmentally responsible farming and encourage greater biodiversity. Buying from nearby producers also helps protect the countryside by supporting farms that maintain landscapes and wildlife habitats. Q: Why should visitors look for local food when travelling? A: Sampling local food is one of the best ways to experience a destination's culture and heritage. Whether it's Cornish seafood, Somerset cider, Devon cheeses or Exmoor lamb, regional specialities tell the story of the landscape and the people who produce them. Have you discovered a wonderful farm shop, food producer or market in Britain? I'd love to hear your recommendations in the comments, and don't forget to explore more of my food and travel guides celebrating the very best of the West Country. Milking cattle on the 'Cornish Gouda" farm in Cornwall

When I visited southern St Lucia in the Caribbean 10 years ago I wrote an article which claimed that one of the hotels was the sort of place James Bond would choose for his holidays. I mentioned this to the hotel’s owner over lunch at the time and she and her husband invited me to return for a more in-depth visit. Now I have. It has taken me just over a decade, but my 007 thoughts about the place haven’t changed a jot. Looking out from a Jade Mountain 'sanctuary' In fact, now that I’ve stayed at the twin resorts of Anse Chastanet and Jade Mountain for the best part of a week, I am convinced that the luxury-loving Bond would fit the place with every bit as much aplomb as a steel fist in a silken glove. It has everything a movie director working on a Bond production would require: unbelievably dramatic scenery of the kind you could leap off in a microlite if the need was pressing; huge multi-coloured fish-filled reefs in the clear Caribbean waters through which a hero could swim silently and secretly; a massive private estate in the rain-forest that surrounds the two hotels… The beach at Anse Chastanet Hotels which are so remarkable you know they must have been designed by someone special. In fact, Jade Mountain is regularly named as one of the world’s most beautiful hotels - and often labelled as the top resort in the Caribbean. It is built on a steep slope above a picture-perfect bay and its rooms - or sanctuaries as they are known - have been designed to get the very best out of the stunning view of the iconic twin Piton rock stacks which make up what must be the best known landscape in the tropics. At a Glance Jade Mountain Resort & Anse Chastanet Resort The Vibe Avant-garde architectural drama, ultimate privacy, and quiet opulence. Laid-back beachside luxury, vibrant Caribbean art, and jungle immersion. Accommodation 24 massive "Sanctuaries" completely open to the elements with no fourth wall. Classic estate rooms, breezy hillside gazebos, and beachfront suites. Private Pools Striking, individually designed glass-tiled infinity pools. Focused on beach access and dual calm-water bays. Best For Honeymooners, design lovers, and complete romantic seclusion. Active travellers, scuba divers, nature lovers, and families (ages 15+). Recent Glory Nominated for Saint Lucia's Leading Luxury Resort (World Travel Awards). Named an official Recommended Resort in the Forbes Travel Guide Star Awards. Architectural Drama: The Vision of Nick Troubetzkoy How do you get the best out of a view? Simple. You do not clutter it with something dark and inconvenient like a wall. None of the sanctuaries at Jade Mountain have a fourth wall - instead there is just an infinity pool, fresh air, and panorama. And the place was designed by someone special. The architect behind the concept was Jade Mountain’s owner, a Russian-Canadian architect called Nick Troubetzkoy. Back in the early 1970s he arrived in Saint Lucia to work with a group of architects designing vacation villas and, what was meant to be a brief stint in paradise turned into a lifelong passion for the island and its people. The two hotels in the valley near the town of Soufrière in southern St Lucia now employ no fewer than 550 people and Nick and Karolin Troubetzkoy have a name for being two of the most forward thinking, eco-friendly hoteliers in the Caribbean region. Indeed, Karolin is now president of the Caribbean Hotel and Tourism Association. I mention it here because, for too many years, the Caribbean has been the kind of place where hoteliers concentrate on piling the tourists (mainly American) in and treating them in the kind of way that you can experience anywhere from Miami to Singapore. Same old suites, same old “international” cuisine… The Troubetzkoys do not do this. Instead they embrace what you could describe as “Caribbeanism”. Living Without a Fourth Wall: Inside the Sanctuaries So much so, that the very warm balmy air of the Caribbean comes wafting in through the big beautiful gap where there would normally be a wall. They are developing their estate to grow all the organic produce which is served in their hotels. They are Southern St Lucia’s biggest employer and have a name for looking after their staff with the kind of employee benefits that are sadly not the norm in the region. And so on… All of which I mention in a bid to explain that Anse Chastanet and Jade Mountain are not run of the mill resorts. And I’m talking about anywhere, let alone the Caribbean. They are truly, remarkably, stunning. They are expensive, but a stay there is something that a visitor will never forget. To swim in your own infinity pool to the edge of your own massive sanctuary apartment and peer out over The Pitons is to have your very own James Bond moment. Then you can lean across to the little phone they give you and call your very own butler who will bring you a robe so that you can cross the sanctuary for a rest in a giant four poster bed… As I say, none of this comes cheap at Jade Mountain. But there are people from my region who can afford it (I know that because I met one in St Lucia) and there’s also that “holiday of a lifetime” ambition for the rest of us. Far more affordable is a stay at Anse Chastanet just below Jade Mountain and therefore closer to the wonderful cove I mentioned. You won’t get a sanctuary with an infinity pool, but you will get one of the small and charming villas which Mr Troubetzkoy designed after he bought the estate and before he went on to create his Jade Mountain masterpiece. Indeed, my wife and I were just as happy at Anse Chastanet as we were high above in the butler-serviced home of the gods. Maybe that was because we love St Lucia. It is one of my favourite islands in the world and is certainly the pick of the bunch for me in the Caribbean, not least because there are almost daily flights there from London with airlines like as Virgin Atlantic. The south of the island is mountainous, which is what allows for all those wondrous rainforests - the likes of which you do not see on many Caribbean isles. And the area around Soufrière is particularly scenic - partly because of those amazing Pitons, partly because of the great green backdrop which descends to the cove studded coast and partly because… Well, the area just seems to me to be more Caribbean than anywhere else I know. When I was a child, dreaming of going to such tropical places, this is what I imagined it would be like. And like a lot of boys, a great many of my dreams were inspired by those James Bond movies. Dreams that seem even better having spent time in the place where I reckon 007 would spend his holidays. . TRAVEL FACT FILE: ST. LUCIA Where to Stay Anse Chastanet: Nightly room-only rates start from approximately £435 ($550 USD) per room per night, based on double occupancy. To book, check availability, or view early-bird inclusive meal plans, visit www.ansechastanet.com. Jade Mountain: Nightly room-only rates start from approximately £778 ($985 USD) per sanctuary per night, based on double occupancy, during the value summer-autumn shoulder seasons. Rates climb past £1,082 ($1,370 USD) per night during the peak winter months. To book your stay, visit www.jademountain.com. Note: All nightly rates at both resorts are subject to a 10% service charge, 10% VAT, and the nightly St. Lucia Tourism Authority Accommodation Levy. Getting There Flights: Direct flights from London to St. Lucia's Hewanorra International Airport (UVF) are operated regularly by Virgin Atlantic and British Airways. Return economy fares start at around £785, fluctuating depending on seasonal demand and early-booking promotions. Visit www.virginatlantic.com to check current schedules. Island Information Official Tourism Support: For comprehensive pre-trip planning, entry requirements, local event calendars, and island-wide guide services, explore the official destination portal managed by the Saint Lucia Tourism Authority at www.stlucia.org. Frequently Asked Questions Are Jade Mountain and Anse Chastanet the same resort? They are adjoining sister properties sharing a spectacular 600-acre tropical estate, but they offer completely different luxury concepts. Anse Chastanet is a classic, art-filled beachfront resort nestled into the lush shoreline. Jade Mountain is an exclusive architectural marvel built high on the ridgeline directly above it. Can guests at Anse Chastanet use Jade Mountain’s facilities? While Jade Mountain guests enjoy seamless, privileged access to all of Anse Chastanet's beaches, restaurants, scuba facilities, and bars, Jade Mountain itself—including its infinity pool concierge levels and the Jade Mountain Club—remains exclusively reserved for Jade Mountain residents to protect its signature privacy. Why do the rooms at Jade Mountain only have three walls? Architect Nick Troubetzkoy intentionally omitted the fourth wall in the creation of the Jade Mountain Sanctuaries. This open-concept design eliminates any barrier between the guest and the environment, providing unobstructed views of the UNESCO World Heritage Pitons and allowing natural cooling ocean breezes to flow freely through the space. What is the dining concept at Jade Mountain? The resort champions an estate-to-plate philosophy, headlined by "Jade Cuisine" created by James Beard Award-winning Chef Allen Susser. Much of the produce, alongside specialised hand-crafted single-estate chocolate, is sourced directly from the resort's own organic Emerald Estate Farm. Anse Chastanet also offers diverse dining, including Emerald's, an acclaimed, wholly vegan tapas restaurant.

As it doesn’t seem that many of us will be travelling anywhere exotic for a while I’ve been looking back through some of the more lovely places I have been lucky enough to call at down the years, and this morning was remembering Langkawi, an archipelago made up of 99 islands on Malaysia’s west coast. Arriving in the Jewel of Kedah Just four of these islands are inhabited. What a sensational place it is. I’d never heard of what is sometimes known as the Jewel of Kedah before I reached it by sailing yacht, but the incredibly scenic main island (Pulau Langkawi) is one of the most stunning places I’ve ever visited. Langkawi was historically home to seafarers, such as the orang laut or sea people originally from the southern part of the Malay Peninsula, as well as pirates and fishermen. UNESCO World Geopark Status We arrived shortly after Langkawi Island had been given a World Geopark status by UNESCO. Three of its main conservation areas in Langkawi Geopark are Machincang Cambrian Geoforest Park, Kilim Karst Geoforest Park, and Dayang Bunting Marble Geoforest park (Island of the Pregnant Maiden Lake). Destination Guide Location Andaman Sea, Northwest Coast of Malaysia (Kedah State) UNESCO Status Southeast Asia's first official World Geopark (designated 2007) Must-See Icons Machincang Cable Car & Sky Bridge, Kilim Karst Mangroves Wildlife Highlight Brahminy Kite & White-bellied Sea Eagles Historical Vibe Ancient maritime roots, legendary folklore, and historic seafaring havens Ascending the Machincang Mountains by Cable Car We took a tour that sped us through rice paddies and rubber plantations to eventually reach some steep mountains where we were introduced to a precarious looking cable car that appeared to ascend to heaven. The Langkawi SkyCab Hovering high above a 550-million-year-old UNESCO Geopark, the Langkawi SkyCab is famously one of the steepest cable car rides on earth, conquering a dramatic 42-degree gradient. The 15-minute journey glides 2.2 kilometres from the Oriental Village up to the jagged peak of Gunung Machinchang. Sweeping 70 metres above the pristine, ancient rainforest canopy, the gondolas deliver passengers to viewing platforms 708 metres above sea level. From this breathtaking vantage point, visitors enjoy stunning, 360-degree panoramic views stretching across the sparkling Andaman Sea all the way to the coast of Southern Thailand. Speedboats, Mangroves, and Sea Eagles The vast multi-course lunch that followed repaired my feelings of vertigo, and it was with great enjoyment that I later leapt aboard the crazily fast speedboat that took us out through mangrove swamps to see the sea eagles that are Langkawi’s national bird. Frequently Asked Questions What does the name Langkawi mean? Langkawi is known formally as Langkawi Permata Kedah (the Jewel of Kedah). The name is believed by many to be linked to the Malay word for eagle (helang), specifically referencing the reddish-brown Brahminy kite eagle that makes the island's ancient mangrove forests its home. Why is Langkawi a UNESCO World Geopark? Langkawi was designated Southeast Asia’s first UNESCO World Geopark due to its incredibly unique, ancient rock formations, tidal flats, and pristine landscapes. It consists of three main protected conservation zones: the Machincang Cambrian Geoforest Park, the Kilim Karst Geoforest Park, and the Dayang Bunting Marble Geoforest Park. How do you get to the Langkawi Cable Car? The Langkawi Cable Car (also known as the SkyCab) departs from the Oriental Village at the foot of the Machincang mountain range. It is one of the steepest cable car rides in the world, carrying visitors up to viewing platforms and the famous curved Sky Bridge suspended high above the rainforest canopy. What wildlife can you see in the Langkawi mangroves? A speedboat or kayak tour through the Kilim Karst Geoforest Park offers close encounters with a stunning array of wildlife, including the island's famous white-bellied sea eagles and Brahminy kites, mudskippers, fiddler crabs, otters, and macaque monkeys living along the riverbanks. Pirates of the Andaman Sea For centuries, Langkawi’s labyrinth of 99 islands, hidden limestone caves, and dense mangrove channels made it the ultimate sanctuary for maritime raiders. Strategically positioned at the northern mouth of the Strait of Malacca, these islands sat directly adjacent to the wealthiest shipping lanes of the ancient Spice Route. Orang Laut (sea peoples) and ruthless sea rovers used the sheer karsts of the Kilim river system to ambush heavily laden merchant galleons tracking between India and China. Local folklore dictates that entire caches of plundered gold, porcelain, and weapons remain buried deep within the island's uncharted subterranean caverns, completely reclaimed by the jungle. The Curse of Mahsuri Beyond the lawless buccaneers, Langkawi’s identity is bound to its most famous supernatural tale: the Legend of Mahsuri. In the late 18th century, a beautiful young woman named Mahsuri was falsely accused of adultery by a jealous village matriarch. Sentenced to death, she was tied to a tree and stabbed, but folklore says her wounds bled white fluid—a miraculous sign of her absolute innocence. With her dying breath, Mahsuri cursed Langkawi with seven generations of bad luck and barren fields. Fascinatingly, shortly after her execution, the Siamese invaded the island, forcing the starving locals to burn their own rice granaries to keep them out of enemy hands. For nearly two centuries, Langkawi languished as an isolated, superstitious backwater—only waking from its deep historical slumber when the seven generations finally passed in the late 20th century, paving the way for its modern tourism renaissance.

Just 20 minutes - that’s all we had time for as we entered the central medina in Tunis – and I was fed up because, to do the vast, fascinating, colourful labyrinth justice, you need a day. That was a year ago and I had to be dragged out of the medieval bazaar kicking and screaming, grabbing handfuls of ludicrously cheap herbs and spices as I went. The man from the Tunisian tourist office looked concerned – it hadn’t really struck him that a visitor might find such an untidy, anarchic place quite so absorbing. He was more accustomed to promoting the conventional sites like the impressive ruins at Carthage, and hosting whirlwind tours of five-star hotels. A Living Labyrinth: The Medinas of Tunisia I don’t mind a ruin or two, but give me a vibrant living piece of history any day. And that is exactly what you get in the great medinas of Tunisia. They are genuine organisms of the living past, and do not exist solely to pander to foreign tourists. Other North African and Middle Eastern countries have such places, but sometimes you get the feeling that we Westerners are not altogether welcome. Tunisia is different. There is something altogether more relaxed, less oppressive and less threatening about wandering freely and alone around its crowded market places compared to others I have known – especially these days. Trip GuideThe Route Tunis & Carthage ➔ Port El Kantaoui & Sousse ➔ Yasmine Hammamet Flight Time Approx. 3 hours from London Key Experiences Bargain haggling in medieval medinas, authentic slow-cooked clay pot stews, traditional 'Ghassoul' mud therapy Best For Foodies, culture seekers, and spa enthusiasts looking for an exotic long weekend Entrance to the Souk at Tunis So when the same tourism official offered me a special four-day tour blending visits to the medinas with overnight stays at some of Tunisia’s most luxurious spa beach resorts, I grabbed the trip with all the enthusiasm of an amateur cook let loose in a spice bazaar. It’s the sort of excursion that the more adventurous can enjoy as a long and very exotic weekend. Your days are filled with North African promise, your late afternoons and evenings render you thoroughly pampered. The Sophisticated Flavours of Carthage Arriving at Tunis we were whisked a few miles to the ancient port of Carthage and deposited in the highly sophisticated Corinthia Khamsa Hotel. If you are anything like me, the first thing you want to do upon reaching a country is to taste its cuisine. The experience can somehow set up the trip, and the Corinthia Khamsa was no disappointment when it came to fabulously delicious, authentic, local food. I was attracted by the following item on the menu: “Lamb cooked in a clay spout”. It was just that. The meat stew came rammed into a sort of sealed clay pot which the waiter had to carefully smash with a silver hammer. The cinnamon and other spice flavours which poured forth were intense, but there was also the definite and rather interesting tang of clay. Lost in the Great Warren of Tunis Next morning we were off to the central medina in Tunis. Medina, by the way, means “old town” – and it can be full of various souks (markets) selling anything and everything from cement mixers to spices - taking in clothes, shoes, leatherwork and artwork along the way. The medina at Tunis is everything, and more, that you imagine a Middle Eastern bazaar to be. Forget bothering with a sense of direction – the place is a warren on a huge scale and you must simply wander and hope for the best. We lunched at the famous Dar Bel Haj restaurant which we somehow found in the centre of the medina. It’s an extraordinary old place, tall and cool, lined with thousands of ornate tiles in Moorish style. The food gave us an instance glimpse of Tunisia’s traditional cuisine and also into the generosity of its people. Bowl after bowl of intriguing salads were placed into the middle of the table and we were filled to the brim with strange mixtures of egg, fish and various vegetables long before the meat-laden mains turned up to kill us off. My own best-buy in the medina was a huge, heavy, hooded shepherd’s cloak made from a sort of felt. On cold winter days this 20 euro bargain now provides me with the warmest dressing gown ever invented. After a day haggling (yes, haggling is almost compulsory when attempting to buy anything in the souk) we travelled south to the modern coastal resort of Port El Kantaoui. An early evening stroll around the marina provided us with the wind-down necessary after two hours spent on somewhat alarming Tunisian roads, and I soaked away a further hour in Hotel Hasdrudal’s wonderful seawater swimming pool which is equipped with any number of muscle relaxing jets and whirlpools. The next morning I strolled down the boardwalk through the dunes and found myself on an endless white beach that was empty save for a man on a moped who dashed along the waters edge as fast as the thing would go. Apart from him, I was utterly alone. Fresh Fish and Eerie Footprints in Sousse South of Port El Kantaoui we arrived at the ancient coastal town of Sousse where we spent the morning in another vast medina. This one is somehow lighter and more airy than the capital’s old town, but extensively labyrinthine nevertheless. The stall-holders and shopkeepers are a little more used to European tourists and so hit you with a harder sell, but we were soon able to find refuge from both the haggling and the heat in a cool, subterranean bar that seemed to sell nothing but the fresh crushed juice of various fruits. Refuelled, I spent an hour looking around the various food markets and drooled, not only at the vast array of produce on offer, but also at the prices. Fresh fish was piled in small mountains, each of which cost less than a British portion of chips. The vegetables were even cheaper. A pile of multi-coloured carrots caught my eye – they looked for all the world like a sort of ice lollypop I remember buying as a kid. Also impressive were vast piles of the whitest and largest bulbs of fennel I’ve ever seen. The only off-putting section of the market was Sousse’s version of Barnstaple’s Butcher’s Row. Not nice. Sheep heads lay forlornly on chopping blocks with their sad dead eyes glinting in the sun. Everywhere there was blood and bone, tripe and lung. The place yelled death, which I suppose, is what a butcher’s is really all about. After Sousse we visited the modern resort of Yasmine Hammamet where we were taken around the brand new medina. The Ghassoul: Mud, Steam, and Ancient Araby Then for the ultimate relaxation: we travelled up the coast to the older town of Hammamet where staff at the palatial Nahrawess Hotel had what they described as a “surprise” in store for us. As he led us to hotel’s the £multi-million new spa facility, the manager said he would not tell us what was about to befall us because it would spoil the experience – but he did divulge that it was one of only seven such facilities in the world. Ten minutes later every inch of me was caked in mud. Five minutes after that I was sitting in a hot, dark, cavern under artificial star-light listening to sounds of wavelets washing gently upon a shore. Aromatic clouds of steam billowed from a large tiled receptacle in the middle of the strange room and I slid further and further into the sculpted seat which was equipped with tiny rivers of water to help you keep cool. The “ghassoul” – to give it the official name – was the most relaxing thing I’d ever done. Weird dreams of Ancient Araby overtook me… Until it jets of cold water began to spray from every orifice in the room. At this point white coated girls entered bearing hosepipes. The mud was blasted from every human surface. All very odd. But strangely, ethereally, enjoyable. And that, in some ways, is the best way of encapsulating a short break in Tunisia. It’s just three hours flying time from London, but you are plunged deep into a very foreign and exotic world. A world of great comfort if you get the right hotel – and certainly a world of colourful and fascinating mystery. A Taste of Tunisia: Culinary Classics to Look For To truly understand the country, you have to eat your way through the markets. Tunisian cuisine is distinct from its North African neighbours—it is generally hotter, relying heavily on a fiery pepper paste, and beautifully balances fresh Mediterranean seafood with deep, earthy desert spices. Here are the staple dishes you must try: Couscous: The undisputed national dish. Unlike Moroccan versions, Tunisian couscous is almost always served stained a deep orange-red from a spicy tomato-and-chilli broth. It is traditionally topped with a mountain of slow-cooked lamb, chicken, or fresh coastal fish, alongside huge chunks of pumpkin and potatoes. Lablabi: A thick, deeply comforting chickpea soup that is pure street-food fuel. It is poured over bowls of torn, stale crusty bread and heavily seasoned with garlic, cumin, olive oil, and raw harissa. It is frequently finished with a soft-boiled egg and flaked tuna mixed in at the table. Brik: A ubiquitous, crispy pastry obsession. A razor-thin sheet of malsouka dough is folded into a triangle around a filling of mashed potato, tuna, capers, parsley, and a single raw egg. It is deep-fried for a matter of seconds so the pastry becomes shatteringly crisp while the egg yolk inside stays warm and perfectly runny. Koucha (Lamb in Clay): As experienced on this trip, this is a dramatic, slow-cooked masterpiece. Seasoned with rosemary, turmeric, cayenne, and cinnamon, the lamb is sealed tight inside a clay jar or pot (koucha) and baked for hours. The meat becomes so incredibly tender it falls away at the touch of a fork. Ojja (Tunisian Shakshuka): A rich, bubbling skillet of spicy tomato, garlic, and green pepper sauce, heavily spiked with harissa. Eggs are gently cracked into the sauce to poach, and the dish is often elevated with chunks of merguez (a spicy, heavily spiced lamb sausage). Mechouia Salad: A staple starter found on almost every table. Tomatoes, onions, sweet peppers, and fiery hot peppers are grilled or charred over open coals until smoky, then peeled, finely chopped, and heavily dressed in olive oil and lemon. It is always served topped with hard-boiled eggs and chunks of tuna. Harissa: The culinary heartbeat of the nation. Far more than just a condiment, this vibrant red paste made from smoked red clay chilis, garlic, caraway, coriander, and olive oil is cooked into the base of almost every sauce, stew, and soup across the country. Frequently Asked Questions What is the difference between a medina and a souk? In North Africa, a "medina" refers to the historic, walled old-town section of a city, typically characterised by narrow, winding alleys. A "souk" is the marketplace or bazaar found within the medina, often divided by trade, such as spices, leather, or textiles. Is haggling expected in the markets of Tunisia? Yes, haggling is an expected and deeply cultural part of the shopping experience in traditional Tunisian souks. Prices are rarely fixed, and a friendly, respectful negotiation is considered part of the daily transaction. What is traditional Tunisian cuisine like? Tunisian food features a rich blend of Mediterranean and North African influences. Key dishes include slow-cooked stews cooked in sealed clay pots, fresh Mediterranean seafood, vibrant mezze-style salads featuring egg and fish, and the frequent use of aromatic spices like cinnamon and coriander. What is a Ghassoul treatment in a Tunisian spa? A Ghassoul (or rhassoul) treatment is a traditional Moroccan and Tunisian wellness ritual where the body is coated in a nutrient-rich, therapeutic mineral clay. The treatment takes place in a warm steam environment to detoxify and smooth the skin before being washed clean.

The South Devon coast is delightful dawdling country, which is why I was delighted to find myself staying down in the South Hams and fortunate to be staying at the award-winning Thurlestone Hotel, a magnificent hostelry I’ve visited before. I recall writing a news story about the hotel not long ago after the owners had spent over £1 million upgrading the restaurant. The hotel’s old restaurant was given a complete transformation with a new identity and new menus that feature produce sourced almost exclusively from within the county. Set across two levels and with floor-to-ceiling windows that make the most of the coastal views, the restaurant was been redesigned by London-based Fabled Studio, whose work can be seen in many of the capital’s best dining rooms including Dinner by Heston Blumenthal and Restaurant Gordon Ramsay. IF YOU ENJOY THIS POST CHECK OUT OTHER DEVON ARTICLES HERE An elegant, art deco style runs throughout, with marble flooring, mirrors and lighting echoing the 1920s and 30s, alongside discreet naval detailing that gives a nod to the region’s maritime history. View from the Thurlestone Hotel The menu highlights a selection of dishes prepared using seasonal produce, and the restaurant showcases such delights as home smoked salmon, River Yealm oysters, hand-dived Start Bay scallops and Aune Valley beef. Outdoors at Thurlestone you get plenty in the way of beach and bay. You even get the famous Thurle Stone thrown in for good measure and on a windy day you can hear the thing moan like the crying of long lost Sirens. They say you can even hear it in far-away Kingsbridge, but no one has ever been able to verify this for me. Exploring Thurlestone & The Moaning Rock Walk Overview Start/Finish Point Central Thurlestone / Thurlestone Beach parking Distance Approx. 5 miles (8 km) circular Difficulty Moderate (well-laid coastal paths and gentle inland fields) Highlights The iconic Thurle Stone, historic Thurlestone Church, Hope Cove, views of Burgh Island Local Pitstops The Thurlestone Hotel, Hope Cove pubs The ‘Thurl’ bit of the name apparently means pierced or drilled, and it is the giant hole through the middle of the rock which moans when the wind is blasting through it. There are plenty of walks around the village - I took a wander from Thurlestone to Hope Cove and back via inland paths A Church Polluted by Blood Central Thurlestone is old and grand. The marvellous church at the top of the hill acts as a sort of antidote for the architectural failings to be seen elsewhere. Not only is it a handsome affair, but its ancient annals contain many an engaging tale of yore. For instance, in 1328 the Bishop of Exeter commissioned the Archdeacon of Totnes to reconcile the church which had been "polluted by the spilling of blood therein." Whose blood? What terrible thing had occurred within these gaunt and splendid walls? I am afraid I do not know; what I can tell you is - the Abbot of Buckfast arrived to do the heavenly deed only to find that the churlish folk of Thurlestone wouldn't pay his fees. The answer? The Bishop of Exeter threatened to ex-communicate the whole lot of them unless the money was paid - which, of course, it duly was. Following the South West Coast Path From the centre of the village I made my way south down the hill to find the corner of the golf course and so the south west coast path. It’s an odd bit of the littoral, quite unlike any other in the West Country. The low hinterland speaks of rolling downs and the beaches themselves have a scruffy look more reminiscent of somewhere in Essex near the Thames Estuary. There are pilings to help keep the stunted cliff intact - although there are the occasional rockfalls along here as was witnessed recently. Being west-facing the strand is forever covered in seaweed and other detritus chucked up by wind and tide. The Hitchcockian Legend of Ms. Burke I got the feeling Alfred Hitchcock would like this place – even in bright afternoon sunlight it has an eerie feel. Maybe that’s something to do with a lady called Burke. In the year 1772 she was a passenger on the good ship Chantiloupe which was in trouble just off this bit of coast. Seeing the beach so near, she thought there may be some means of escape and quickly donned all her finest jewellery so that she’d have some ‘readies’ that would keep her in the style to which she was undoubtedly accustomed. Alas for Ms Burke, things were not destined to fall her way. Indeed, her forward planning was to prove her undoing. The story goes that she made the beach in one piece but then was then set upon by three local villains who helped themselves to the rich pickings adorning her frail limbs. It probably didn’t take much to kill Ms Burke, but in doing so they seem to have unleashed some demon that was bent upon her revenge. According to a local report ‘all three came to awful and untimely deaths’. How true any of this is, no one can say, but it is believed that the celebrated Edmund Burke came to the area to investigate the demise of some of his relatives. He went away without a fig of evidence. Spooky stuff – and maybe it was this sorry tale that cast me into my Hitchcockian state of mind. But this soon ebbed as I climbed the wide, well-laid path that crosses the downs between Thurlestone beach and Hope Cove. You get fantastic views up here, of Bigbury Bay which sweeps around past Burgh Island. You also get skylarks and an airy feel which puts you in mind of the music of Vaughn Williams. Descending into Hope Cove & Returning Inland Hitchcockian darkness defied, I descended into the busy little sunlit resort of Hope Cove where I enjoyed a drink before continuing my way up the track inland to North Bolberry. From here another right of way took me north through the village of Galmpton and north again to South Huish. Yet more footpaths now took me uphill to pass Horswell House, where it was a quick left, then a right, down the path into the valley past the sewerage works and then up and over past Whitlocksworthy to eventually regain the villa-dom that is Thurlestone. All the while I was able to peer over my left shoulder to witness the west-facing loveliness of the sun dipping over the great maritime expanses of the South Hams coast. Frequently Asked Questions Where does the name Thurlestone come from? The name comes from the Old English word "thurl," meaning pierced or drilled. It refers to the massive, naturally arched rock formation just off the coast which features a giant hole cut through by the sea. Can you walk from Thurlestone to Hope Cove on the Coast Path? Yes, a wide, well-laid section of the South West Coast Path connects Thurlestone Beach directly to Hope Cove. It offers spectacular, elevated views across Bigbury Bay and toward Burgh Island. How long is the circular walk from Thurlestone to Hope Cove? The complete circular route—heading out along the coastal path to Hope Cove and returning inland via the villages of Galmpton and South Huish—is approximately 5 miles long and takes around 2 to 2.5 hours to complete. Is the Thurlestone beach walk family-friendly? The coastal path section between Thurlestone and Hope Cove is relatively wide and easy to navigate, making it excellent for families, though there are occasional stunted cliff edges and rockfalls to be mindful of.

If the dry and rocky surface of the moon was near a blue and heaving sea, it would look remarkable. That’s what I was thinking while on an adventurous mountain bike ride down the north east coast of Gozo along a rocky, sandy, bit of littoral that really did look like the backdrop for a science fiction movie. Circular bare hills, made of nothing but terracotta bedrock, appeared almost like alien spaceships worn old through eons of time, just waiting for some long lost signal to take off. Strange grid-like areas hewn into the soft sandstone rock looked as if they’d been etched by the antediluvian folk now buried in the fossilised flying saucers. Mysterious doors set directly into blank cliffs seemed to promise all manner of dark secrets locked within. Only the sea danced and sparkled with the buoyant boundless life of here and now. It roared and boomed with spume and spray, looking impossibly deep and blue in a way which only the Mediterranean can when it is wed to the white sandstones and limestones of a sunlit coast. Everything along that coast was stark and surprising. Indeed, most things on Gozo - Malta’s little sister - are clear-cut, graphic and somehow abrupt. The landscapes of these twin-isles (and their even smaller sister, Comino) are not soft and kindly - they are as far from our sylvan acres as it is to imagine - but they do have a unique charm of their own. Yes, there are less than lovely parts of Malta - because whoever guards the rule-book of urban planning on that rocky island seems to have either lost it or chucked it away. The hand of man has been heavily laid upon its few and limited acres. However, some unspoiled corners have survived - and Gozo is a lot more rural - which means it is possible to visit these remarkable islands and enjoy some of their USP. As it turns out, Gozo and Malta have plenty when it comes to Unique Selling Proposition - if you are prepared to go out and look for it. Which is exactly what I was doing on a special trip designed to show the two islands at their natural best. During the four days I was there I walked, mountain-biked, kayaked, cycled and hiked again. The Maltese archipelago lies more-or-less at the centre of the Mediterranean, about 60 miles south of Sicily and around 80 miles north of Africa. The three islands have a total population of 400,000 inhabitants spread over an area of 122 square miles (Comino has just four permanent residents) and combined the isles have 155 miles of coast. The Citadel of Victoria: Stepping into Gozo's Medieval Heart The central location gives a clue as to its long and colourful history - the place has been invaded or annexed by just about everyone from the Phoenicians to the Normans. And of course the British used it as a sea-bound fortress and unsinkable aircraft carrier. It’s strange how we can feel possessive about far away places which have no real meaning to us save for historic links and associations - Malta is most definitely one of those locations. It has been independent since 1964 and yet Malta in particular (less so Gozo) seems 100 per cent haunted by the fact that we Brits ruled its tiny roost for over 160 years. Every sign, instruction, menu or whatever is in English and every Maltese person speaks our language - as well as their own Arabic-related tongue. But, as I say, it was to discern the archipelago’s own USP that I flew south with Air Malta - only to be immediately transferred to Gozo where I stayed in the luxurious five star Kempinski Hotel San Lawrenz. Some five star hotels are that by label, but not by nature - this one deserves every facet of every star. The name Gozo means ‘joy’ and was applied by the Aragonese when the archipelago became one of their overseas possessions in 1282. But Gozo is perhaps more famous for being home of the beautiful Calypso, as mentioned in Homer’s Odyssey. It’s greener, more rural and agricultural - and quite a bit smaller than Malta - and life definitely moves at a more leisurely pace. It was evening by the time I arrived, so we repaired immediately to the Zeffiro Restaurant on the waterfront at Xlendi, which is a small fishing village located deep in the valley of what can only be described as a rocky fjord. And this brings me to the subject of Maltese food and service. Both are first class - in fact, I’d go as far as to say that the general level of service in Maltese hotels and restaurants is on a par with anything you’ll find anywhere else in the Mediterranean. It is surpassed by only one thing - and that is the food. With Italian, French, British, North African, Spanish and Greek influences, the cuisine was always going to be good - and of this I was immediately convinced having consumed just one memorable seafood dinner at the waterside Zeffiro. So much for fine dining in the evening - but this, for example, is a classic Maltese lunch... The islands are renown for their excellent bread and for lunch sometimes the locals will hollow out loaf which is then stuffed with a mixture of its own breadcrumbs, tomatoes, olives, capers, onions and beans. Another Gozo speciality is a tomato paste that you can spread on the ever-present bread - and it defies my sense of logic and understanding that they don’t market this stuff around the planet. It is, simply, the best tomato product in the world. I could write an entire article about Maltese food, but instead I want to reflect on some of the outdoor adventures I enjoyed touring around the wilder bits of the islands. On my first full day we travelled to one of Gozo’s hilltop villages, Gharb, to begin a two hour mountain bike ride along the lunar coastline, ending at Xwejni Bay. I mentioned strange grid-like areas hewn into the soft sandstone rock - they are ancient salt-pans, still used by one or two locals for harvesting sea salt. I bought several packs for a matter of pence - and it is superb stuff. After a lunch consisting mainly of a Maltese version of tapas at the harbour-side Kartell Restaurant in Marsalforn, we spent the afternoon tootling around Gozo on quad-bikes - which was great fun, if not slightly alarming at times when confronted with near vertical tracks leading down into green and hidden valleys. The next day we took a boat out to Comino en-route back to mainland Malta. The island is situated in the middle of the channel that separates the two larger neighbours and is a haven for those who love water sports. The Blue Lagoon, with its clear green-blue water, is one of the most spectacular sights in the archipelago. It is so incredibly blue that you wonder if God has being playing with the colour adjustment on his ethereal TV. We explored the cave-riddled coast of Comino in a powerful launch and admired the seasonal hotel that was about to open, saw one of the three residents - and then roared off to the northern tip of Malta in time for a walk before lunch. The hike, around a rocky peninsula between Cirkewwa and Ghadira Bay, lasted an hour and a half and we were treated to wonderful maritime views every step of the way. We also noticed lots of little stone buildings, which turned out to be a rather sorry part of traditional Maltese life... It seems that the islanders have a predilection for killing or capturing wild birds of every size and shape - and these stone huts belong to individuals who either shoot or net the hapless incomers migrating between Africa and Europe. We learned this at our next port of call, which was a small wetland managed by an estimable charity called Bird Life Malta. It is run by a small and extremely determined bunch of ornithologists whose mission it is to protect their weary and much-put-upon feathered friends (find out more at www.birdlifemalta.org - they need all the help they can get) Fact File For further information on Malta go to http://www.visitmalta.comMartin flew with Air Malta which operates a year-round scheduled service of 26 flights per week from Heathrow, Gatwick and Manchester. Air Malta also operates regional summer charter flights from Bristol, Exeter and Cardiff. For more information visit airmalta.com” Frequently Asked Questions About Visiting Gozo How do you get to Gozo from mainland Malta? Getting to Gozo is incredibly simple and highly scenic. Frequent passenger and car ferries run 24 hours a day from Cirkewwa at the northern tip of Malta, arriving at Mġarr Harbour in Gozo in approximately 25 minutes. Additionally, a fast passenger-only ferry operates directly from the Grand Harbour in Valletta, taking around 45 minutes. What are the oldest temples in Gozo? Gozo is home to the extraordinary Ġgantija Temple complex, located in Xagħra. Dating back to roughly 3600 to 3200 BC, these monumental limestone structures are older than both Stonehenge and the Egyptian Pyramids. They are recognized as a UNESCO World Heritage site and provide fascinating insight into the island's advanced prehistoric civilization. What is traditional food like in Gozo? Gozo boasts a magnificent, rustic culinary heritage that relies heavily on local agriculture and the sea. Signature delicacies include ġbejniet (small, traditional round cheeses made from sheep's milk), fresh Gozo honey, sun-dried tomatoes, and ftira—a unique, traditional stone-baked Gozitan flatbread often topped with fresh potatoes, capers, anchovies, and onions.

Winter Sun in Gran Canaria: Escaping January in the Canary Islands January can be a grim cold time in the northern hemisphere. I, for one, like heading south if I can, come the end of the month when winter seems to have gone on just too long. Gran Canaria is a place that can be high on the list for winter destinations. Green Gran Canaria: Mountains, Flowers and Hidden Valleys Think green. Think boundless mountainsides covered in flowers. Think running water tinkling through pretty villages perched on the sides of dramatic gorges. Think almond blossom gleaming all white and lovely in secret coombes two thousand feet above the sea. And, higher still, conjure an image the cool green scented zone of coniferous cloud forests wafting in the warm breeze. While the capital city offers a spectacular winter break, the rest of the island deserves exploration. You can follow my full route through the mountains and coastal fishing villages in my Grand Tour of Gran Canaria Staying in Las Palmas: An Unlikely Base on Gran Canaria Having said all that I stayed in the in somewhat unlikely location of the capital city, Las Palmas. A great many northern Europeans will probably not have heard of this place but, with a population of nearly 400,000, it’s one of the 10 biggest cities in all of Spain. Or to put it another way, it is the largest European Community city outside Europe. Located just over 90 miles off the Saharan coast and more than 830 from the Iberian peninsula, it does at times feel more African or South American than European. Las Palmas de Gran Canaria Unlike its neighbouring mountain range, you could in no way describe Las Palmas as beautiful or even handsome – it’s a sprawling community built across a great isthmus between volcanic cliffs and what would otherwise be a small island. However, I loved the place. It has a pounding vibrancy that I’ve not seen in other European cities for some while – and the South American link is relevant. In 1492 Christopher Columbus anchored here and spent time on the island while on his first trip to the Americas. He also stopped on his way back, and the city has a museum dedicated to him in its charming old Vegueta quarter. Vegueta, Columbus and the Historic Heart of Las Palmas Aside from teeming streets lined with the usual tapas bars and restaurants this city is seems more in tune with the sea than most. That’s not really surprising as one side of the downtown area plays host to a large port, while the other is dominated by an even larger beach. Life on Las Canteras Beach: Evenings by the Atlantic It’s to this beach that the entire population seems to decant in the evenings and at weekends. The tower blocks spill their human content and what does that spillage do? It surfs the giant waves. It promenades along the seafront. It preens, looks, admires, laughs, talks, preens again, and eats. Beyond the City: Hiking and Landscapes of Gran Canaria As I say, I loved it - but I loved getting out of the city just as much and enjoyed some of the finest hiking routes on the island. They call Gran Canaria the “miniature continent” because of its amazing array of different climates and landscapes. The round, dart-board of an isle is built around a massive volcano system which rises, at Pico de Las Nieves, to an impressive 6,390 feet. The Capital’s New Pulse: Why Las Palmas is More Relevant Than Ever If you return to Las Palmas today, you will find that the "pounding vibrancy" has only intensified. It is no longer just a haven for sun-starved northern Europeans; it has transformed into a global hub. By the start of 2025, the city’s population continues to hover around the 380,000 mark, maintaining its status as Spain’s ninth-largest city and a critical bridge between three continents. But there is a new "spillage" onto the streets. Alongside the local surfers and the evening promenaders, you will now find a burgeoning tribe of "digital nomads." Drawn by the 17.7 million annual visitors to the Canary Islands in 2024, many have decided to swap their grey offices for the co-working spaces that now line the streets behind Las Canteras. In fact, Las Palmas has recently been ranked as one of the top remote-work destinations in the world, proving that its unique blend of African proximity and European infrastructure is a winning formula for the modern age. The beach I mentioned—that vast, golden crescent of Las Canteras—remains the city’s crown jewel. In 2025, it once again secured its Blue Flag status, an international hallmark of water quality and environmental management that it has held for decades. What makes it truly special is La Barra, the natural volcanic reef that acts as a giant breakwater. It creates a tranquil lagoon where, even in the depths of January, you can snorkel amongst schools of ornate wrasse and damselfish while the giant Atlantic rollers crash harmlessly just a few hundred yards out at sea. It is this duality—the wild ocean and the protected pool—that sums up the city’s character. Escaping the city is easier than ever. Gran Canaria has doubled down on its commitment to the environment, with nearly 43% of the island’s territory now protected as a UNESCO Biosphere Reserve. If you head for the heights of Pico de las Nieves (reaching that impressive 6,390 feet), you aren't just looking at a view; you are witnessing a sophisticated ecological recovery. The "cloud forests" I spoke of are part of a massive reforestation project aimed at capturing the moisture from the trade winds—locally known as the Alisios. Whether you are seeking the 1492 history of the Vegueta quarter or the high-altitude silence of the almond groves, Las Palmas remains the perfect, "unlikely" base. It is a city that doesn't just sit by the sea; it lives and breathes with it.