I heard there was a secret chord..?

For the final word on the whole Christmas number 1 controversy,

On Christmas morning we went to church, in Rob's aunt's village. During the sharing of the peace, the organist played a lovely, haunting instrumental version of the song that was then at number 1, 2 and 36 in the charts. 

Therefore presumably, what the organist was trying to say was not "Peace be with you" but rather "Maybe there's a God above, but all I've ever learned from love was how to shoot somebody who outdrew you."

Perhaps it's a new form of subversive undercover atheism.

Dinner in Dunster

We had a quiet meal out, while in Cornwall: the Saturday after Christmas is not a busy time for the restaurateurs of Dunster.

A fish restauruant, with a concentration on local ingredients, Myn was in her element.  She went for shelfish ravioli, and while I was trempted by the tuna steak, I eventually plumped for the pork chops with a honey mustard sauce.  This actually came with something reminiscant of melted Christmans pudding: very tasty, but incredibly filling.  This meant that I had no room for pudding, so Myn enjoyed a cheese platter, while I nibbled on a grape.

There was a good winelist, which was varied and evenly priced.  

While the place was pleasantly decorated on the inside, the cottagy style, with the nicnack-filled windows made it look a bit like one of the several "expensive tat" shops that fill the High Street, so you might not particularly identify it as a restaurant from the street, or that it is open.  Walking through the door, I was half expecting to find myself in somene's from room, rather than a restaurant.

While there's no way of knowing what this would be like in a busier time of year, it was a good meal with attentive service in a pleasant atmosphere. 

What I did on my holidays

The compulsory Christmas catchup post.

It was my family's turn this year, so we went down to Cornwall.  My aunt lives in the pretty village of Devoran, the far side of Truro.  It's quite a drive, so I was grateful to be able to leave the driving to my Chris and my mother.  Myn, on the other hand, came down by train on Christmas Eve.

Usual Christmassy stuff happened: food; wine; church; coastal walk; Dr Who; Wallace & Gromit.  On the way back, we were dropped of at Taunton, from where we went by steam train to Dunster, for a couple of nights at the Yarn Market Hotel.

It was a pleasant stay: the steam trains were fun; there are some nice pubs in Dunster; some interesting walks to be had; and this interesting sign:

"End of public road".

Doobedoobedoo

We ate out at Dukes Grill, in Dukes 92, on the canalside in Castlefield. No bad.

It was a little cold, and the walk along the canal itself to get there made us readt for some warmth whne we arrived. Pity about the broken crokery outside the main entrance. They weren't busy and were certainly keen to serve us, so we repeatedly asked them to give us a little time to actually read the menu... In the end, I plumped for the 6oz ribeye bavette steak, beaten thin and marinaded overnight in garlic and olive oil. Myn opted for the beef & horseradish risotto and we had a side order of honey roasted root vegetables, with a bottle of Berri Estates shiraz.

Myn enjoyed the risotto, which (from my small sample) seemed to be ideally cooked: not chalky and not stodge. However, my steak was incredibly salty. It was also very tender, and the marinade had given it a pleasant taste. But my goodness, was it salty.

"How are you enjoying your meals?"

"Very nice thanks, but this steak is very salty"

"But they've only been marinaded in garlic and olive oil: it shouldn't be salty"

"Maybe it's my taste, but it is definately salty."

Eventually, they agreed that the marinade was too salty and offered us a free dessert. I had a sticky toffee pudding and Myn had a chocolate toffee brownie. Both were good, and neither - I'm glad to say - showed any sign of having been near a cream aerosol can.

The surroundings were pleasant enough. However, the music was a bit loud and one got the feeling that had the bar been full, then the noise would have been quite overpowering. Also, the back door opened directly into the restaurant area, which let in a cold blast every time it was used. So: overall not bad, but with a few provisos. Would possibly go again, but only if I wasn't after anything in particular. There are other placed to go for pizza / pasta / risotto, or for good steak, or for good fish. There are some excellent wine bars around that offer food and there are some great pubs you could visit.

In other words, Dukes 92 does high-end pub food. From that perspective, it does it well enough, but you may want a glass of water if you order a steak.

Fish

I dreamt about celeriac last night. Maybe it is a side effect of taking Imigran.

Still alive

Just in case anyone reading this blog was wondering, I am still alive and capable of typing.

Having been cruelly abandoned by a husband swanning off to the November Ops meeting, I find myself in the unusual position of having some time to blog, having already finished preparing the accounts for Sanctus 1 for last year, done a practice exam, bought some stocking fillers and some booze for me (There's a thought - excuse me for two minutes while I go and pour myself a glass.....................................................................sorry, that took longer than I was expecting, awkward shrink-wrapping over the cork) as well as some proper gifts, banked some cheques, picked up a parcel from the sorting office and earned a quid for participating in a market research survey. (Now then, you're conducting market research about chocolate bars, and you're paying people in money not chocolate. What's the thinking there?)

There's a few things I still haven't achieved today, but then I hadn't planned for Husband to detail me to exploring the European Christmas Markets in Manchester in search of stocking fillers. I have duly trudged through all the god-awfully twee clay cherubs and santas, foodstuffs, contenders for the title of most useless piece of clutter you could give to someone you really hated, and jewellery stalls staffed by the most miserable oriental women. Is it me or are they actually trafficked here in the same container as the merchandise and beaten if they don't sell enough tat?

I do like the Christmas markets for the atmosphere, the mulled wine and the opportunity to restock the larder with raclette cheese and salami, but I do also find they're really crowded, and better for buying Christmas decorations and burgers for yourself than gifts for other people.

Big points to: the guy with the stall between M&S and Burberry who's selling wooden things and scented-candles-in-wineglasses, the hand cream and other luxuriously smelly things merchant on the steps of the Town Hall, and the rather charming Frenchman tirelessly demonstrating the magic of telescopic fruit bowls in the middle of Albert Square.


Less points to: the choir of young people who turned up in St Ann's Square and sang beautiful a cappella arrangements of popular songs. Lovely to listen to, but they had dumped all their bags on the top step of the war memorial, on top of a wreath which had been laid there. There were other steps available.

goo goo g'joob

Dinner was out this evening: we went to Walrus, on Manchester High Street.  Most satisfactory.

Myn started on tempura squid, while I enjoyed thai fishcakes.  Mains were crispy pork and a beef mussaman curry, both served with a sufficiency of sticky rice.

Now, regular readers of this blog will be reminded of some menu descriptions from our time in Cambodia.  Indeed, the full menu included many items that gave me a brief flashback to many an evening spent trying to decide how to feed twelve hungry mouths.

Anyway, the food was lovely; the house wine was a surprisingly pleasant ugni blanc / colombard from Gascony; and the service was faily attentive, well informed and quite attractive.  The decor is a little eclectic / modern Japanesee, but not startlingly so for all that.

Would recommend it, and would definately go again.  A Rob Rave.