The Pig.

                                                        The Pig Hotel Brockenhurst.

Glenn and I were very lucky to have received the wonderful Christmas gift of an overnight stay with dinner and breakfast at the gorgeous Pig Hotel, courtesy of our son Bert and his partner Holly.

The Pig had been on my wish list for some time, located in a beautiful historic building, once owned by the Bowes-Lyons, cousins of the Queen, the 17th-century building is set in 14 acres of secluded grounds, everything about it is grand, majestic and luxurious.

There was something quite mystical about The Pig on the day of our arrival, the weather was gloomy which added to the sense of drama as we swept up the drive. Inside there was a heady smell of wood smoke and at a glimpse we could see roaring log fires in the drawing room, library and bar.

We had the luxury of one of our own self contained pig huts, beyond the main house in the stable yard.

Our hut was divine, from the four-poster bed piled high with feather filled duvet and cushions, delicious crisp white linens, a bathroom replete with a 'monsoon' shower and a claw-footed, free-standing bath, to the Roberts radio tuned in to Radio 4 and the views overlooking the stunning countryside.

We spent a couple of leisurely hours getting ready for dinner before heading back to the main house. We decided to start our evening in the bar with a glass of champagne and some of the menus delicious 'piggy bits.'

                          Delicious saddleback crackling and homemade apple sauce

 The staff were all very welcoming and had a relaxed demeanour (no haughty waiters here!)

We were shown into the restaurant which by day is light and airy due to the stunning Victorian greenhouse attached to the old building which gives the room a garden-y feel and by night is transformed into something magical, the room was aglow with candles, the gentle flickering light reflected off the large greenhouse windows, the restaurant was full of people and the atmosphere felt informal yet intimate.

The owners call The Pig 'A restaurant with rooms' everything here is driven by the restaurant's chef, resident gardener and full time forager - as a result the menu boasts a 'literally picked this morning' section. There is a passion for 'responsible' produce, hence the menu title '25-mile menu' - 95 per cent of the ingredients come from less than 25 miles away. For me this was food heaven, I'm not impressed by modernist foams or fancy airs, but I do love fresh, honest, ingredients. I'll happily eat a basic 6€ menu del dia because it's honest home cooked food. The beauty of good quality ingredients seems to be lost on us these days with so many restaurants serving nothing better than industrialised ballast. Although Glenn will happily eat a meal at our local Beefeater, he really appreciated the garden leaves (fresh from the ground that morning) the seed trays on our table filled with fresh herbs, the Pennington Farm beef sirloin that was as soft as butter, the meltingly rich artisan cheeses with homemade biscuits and rich chutney and the homemade custard tart with homemade tarragon ice cream. This type of dining experience was about our senses being startled into paying undivided attention to the moment, savouring flavours and textures as opposed to just filling our faces.

We accompanied our meal with a bottle of the hotel's own label wine which was delicious before retiring to the bar where a fireside seat had been reserved for us. The ambience was so relaxing and soothing we nestled into the comfy, squashy sofa to enjoy our liqueur coffees and take in the interesting portraits and artefacts.

After a heavenly nights sleep in our pig hut, we wended our way past the majestic oak trees and the log fire heated courtyard back to the main house.

The restaurant had yet again been transformed into a room laden with a banquet of homemade granola, bread, pastries and preserves. There were boil your own eggs, still warm from the chicken run outside and that was just for starters. Glenn opted for the kippers which are smoked on site whilst I went for the full piggy breakfast.

Unfortunately the weather wasn't conducive to a long post-prandial stroll which was a shame as there was so much to see. We did venture as far as the resident pigs and chickens and the walled garden.

                                                      I could get used to this lifestyle!

                                           My review of The Pig for Shorelines newspaper

'I do not think that when in a hotel you have to feel 'at home.' On the contrary, you have to get the feeling that you are definitely elsewhere.'
- Aurelio Vazquez Duran.

Love Donna xxxxxxx

Virtue Signalling.

                                                     My Mrs Angry forced smile look

Most readers will be familiar with my occasional ranting and whilst I try to stick to food related anecdotes and stories, I often go off-piste.

This next post isn't really a rant, more of an observation really, something I think about often which was hi-lighted in an article, written by journalist Sarah Vine, in a national paper this week.

I hadn't even come across the term 'virtue signalling' before, although I was well aware that lots of people subscribe to it.

We live in an age where we're all finding ways to let the world know how good and compassionate we are. 'Slebs' lead the way, the likes of Russell Brand (he of the lavish Indian wedding at the Aman-e-Khas luxury resort and the Taj Rambagh Palace Hotel,) has apparently gone away 'to  think' and 'to learn.' Although he's ranted on about us taking refugees into our 2 up-2 down homes, he clearly had no intention of taking his own advice and has completely gone off the radar.

Benedict Cumberbatch was another 'sleb' who treated theatre audiences to a tirade of political righteousness whilst playing Hamlet. They were told to donate their money to Syrian refugees, but fans were shocked after learning they are expected to fork out a staggering £3,000 a head to meet him at a Sherlocked convention in London (Cumberbatch plays Sherlock in the BBC drama.)

Social media is awash with people posturing as politically correct martyrs, I see dozens of tweets and posts on Facebook that are simply an exercise in self-congratulatory, sanctimonious indulgence. This is 'virtue signalling' and what most of these people don't do, is actually anything to help anyone!

How many people look in on their elderly neighbours or do a bit of volunteering for a charitable cause? I visited a care home for the elderly this week where staff were working 12 hour shifts for days at a time earning just over the basic wage. It's all well and good to wear a wristband indicating your support for some fashionable cause, but would you volunteer to help with feeding and toileting these vulnerable elderly people?

Virtue signalling is all about words, not deeds. It's so easy to turn on a computer and post something to bolster one's own ego, and it's also a great opportunity for the morality monitors to intimidate anyone who doesn't agree with their rhetoric. Have you noticed, the people who shout the loudest seem to be sitting on their computers, offering their words of wisdom as opposed to going out and getting their hands dirty. The problem is, the people who are the noisiest are diverting us from the neediest. It's commendable to tell people to take refugees into their homes - like Yvette Cooper and Nicola Sturgeon, (unfortunately neither of them actually have,) but if you're taking the moral high ground surely you should lead by example. The problem is we've lost sight of the mum down the road who has a special needs child and could do with a bit of support, the widower who sits on a park bench every day hoping someone will talk to him, the overstretched neighbourhood animal care centre that's desperate for volunteers....... By extending our hand to those closest in need we create a ripple effect and can also practice what we preach.

The way I see it is: until I'm ready to forgo some of the luxuries in my life, (by which I mean a comfortable home, meals out, nice clothes, holidays etc) and take in refugees or homeless people and share some of my comforts and riches, I shan't be dictating to others. I don't sit in my ivory tower offering vacuous platitudes and I rather wish the bleeding heart brigade would either follow through or shut up.

Anyway, this post isn't as random as it may seem. The other evening a very 'right on' friend of mine came for dinner and I was subjected to the usual political outpouring before we got on to the subject that she was off to see her Dr in Harley St the following day (the irony was totally lost on her.) I was forgiving enough to cook this delicious meal.....well, at least it kept her quiet!

Lobster and chips

Recipe
1 cooked lobster (defrost overnight if frozen)
125g butter
2 egg yolks
1 tsp white wine vinegar
Pinch of salt
Lemon juice
Cayenne pepper
Fresh parsley

To prepare the lobster, snap away the claws, using a sharp knife, cut the lobster in half
Lay the lobster cut side up and remove the meat
Crack the claws and remove the claw meat
Set aside

This was my first attempt at preparing a lobster and I was quite wary, you can YouTube it for easy to follow instructions (although I got into a bit of a mess)

To make the sauce
Melt butter in a saucepan, keep warm
Place egg yolks, vinegar and salt into a glass bowl that will fit over a pan of barely simmering water, whisk for 3-5 minutes
Remove from heat and gradually whisk in melted butter until you have a glossy sauce
Season with a squeeze of lemon juice and a dash of cayenne pepper
Place lobster pieces into sauce and return to heat to warm through for 2-3 minutes
Serve lobster with hand cut chips and a scattering of fresh parsley
You can also grate a little Parmesan cheese on the chips for added flavour

'Survival, it's selfish, it's dark, and we've always been a species willing to do anything to satisfy our needs. Individuals have morals. Mobs have appetites.'
- Rachel Caine.

Love Donna xxxxxxxxx

Mothering Sunday

                                         My beautiful mother Constance and I

My darling mother passed away eleven years ago and not a day goes by when I don't miss her. This coming Sunday is mother's day and as always I shall buy a bunch of flowers and place them beside the above photo in memory of my gorgeous mum. The photo is old and has been exposed to light but I treasure it dearly as it was the last photo taken of mum and I together.

Mother's day was originally called mothering Sunday as it was a Christian holiday when people returned to their mother church, commonly known as to have gone 'a-mothering'. This progressed into a day when domestic servants were given the day off to visit their mothers, it was often the only time whole families could gather together, usually servants were not given free days off. Children and young people in service would pick wild flowers en route home to give to their mothers.

Mother's day is still about honouring mother's, however, the simple token of flowers, and more importantly, time spent with our mum's, has been swallowed up by commercialism, nowadays every one jumps on the bandwagon, shops are awash with 'mother's day gifts and cards, and it has become the busiest day of the year for eateries all over the country, I have several friends who work in restaurants and they all dread the mass of people that descend on them on this particular day.

My mother's Italian heritage meant that she was a fantastic cook and I wish that I had written down more of her recipes for posterity. One of my absolute favourites was my mum's bread pudding, fresh from the oven and sprinkled with sugar it was heavenly! I've never tasted bread pudding that compares with my mum's.....ever!
I've googled recipes and looked in cookery books to no avail, I've never been able to emulate mums recipe. I know that mum used suet which none of the recipes I've read include, which is probably why the end result is dry and cakey as oppsed to wet and juicy. So I took the bull by the horns and blind baked a bread pudding using pure instinct as opposed to a recipe, and I cracked it! I ended up with mum's bread pudding.

Bread pudding

Recipe
A loaf of stale bread, crusts removed and broken into small pieces
1/2 pint of cold water
75g soft brown sugar
Half a cup of milk
50g suet
1 egg beaten
100g dried fruit: you can use raisins, currants or cranberries
1 teaspoon mixed spice

Preheat oven 180c/gas mark 4

Soak bread, drain and squeeze out excess water with your hands

Mix bread with the rest of ingredients

Put mixture into a greased baking tin

Bake for 30-40 minutes

Allow to cool slightly, slice and sprinkle with sugar

                                   

                                                          My beautiful mum

'Treat your mother with loving care,
You will only know her value when you see her empty chair'
-author unknown

Happy mother's day
Love Donna xxxxxxxx

Respecting Our NHS

For many women of my generation our career choice was either becoming a nurse, a secretary, a hairdresser or a shop assistant. Throughout my early childhood I wanted to be a nurse, I loved dressing up in my nurses uniform and I had a little red Dr's bag complete with a stethoscope and various plastic bottles. I ministered to my teddies and dolls and eventually my baby brother.

By the time I reached my teens I wanted to become an actress, when I left school I became neither, however, for many years I loved watching a British medical drama series called 'The Royal' which was set in the fictional 'St Aidan's Royal Free Hospital.' The show was set in the 1960s and was very nostalgic depicting a time when hospitals were smaller, Matron took charge, relatives adhered to strict visiting times and everything was spick, span and orderly.

Those halcyon days of the 60s, when hospitals were safe havens, your GP knew your whole family, appointments could be made on the very same day and stays in hospital were lengthy, are long gone.

Sadly, surgeries and hospitals are besieged by people who abuse the NHS and we're all paying the price. Consultant Christian Solomonides, an emergency consultant at Barnet Hospital, decided to vent his spleen on Twitter, which has in turn faced him with being struck off and attracted the media who are asking: 'Is this Britain's most politically incorrect doctor?'

I have to say, I sympathise with Solomonides, he tweeted: 'Ambulance called for a broken nail, an earache, period pain and not being able to get to sleep are all REAL. What's going on with people in the UK.'

He also stated that in his experience of working front line, 90% of call outs for an ambulance were unwarranted (it costs £1,000 to deploy an ambulance to convey to hospital) and reasoned, you can appreciate why the NHS is crippled financially.

His fury was further extended when a patient abused him saying: 'You mean to tell me I've waited 3 hours to be told I've got a bruise!' To which Solomonides replied: 'Well yes sir you clearly felt you needed the obvious stating.'

Solomonides controversially went on further to say that immigration has precipitated a dramatic rise in unwarranted attendances. Inevitably, the larger our population grows, the greater the strain on the NHS. He suggested that by imposing a £50 fine on those who abuse A&E it may go some way to keep the NHS free of time wasters and keep wards free for genuine cases. Sick and poorly patients are being held on waiting lists or lying in A&E corridors all hours of the night. Hospitals across Britain are regularly on 'black alert' where ambulances are stacked up waiting to deliver patients to hospital. Patients who have life threatening conditions and should be on an 8 minute call out time are waiting for up to 2 hours, vulnerable elderly people are being conveyed to and from hospital all hours of the night and for many of us, trying to get an appointment to see a Dr involves a 3-4 week wait, by which time you're either recovered or dead.

Imposing a penalty for misuse of our great institution, which we should revere and want to protect, shouldn't worry those of us who treat the NHS with respect, maybe one day we could even return to some semblance of the calm and orderly hospitals of the 60s.

As I said, I never became a nurse and didn't find my true vocation until my 50s. I now write for a local newspaper, review restaurants and of course write this blog, however, a close friend of mine did become a nurse and I don't envy her. Quite often she comes to visit and is need of a sustaining meal, this next recipe is one of her favourites, I can rustle it up very quickly, it's lovely and fresh, nutritious and utterly delicious. Ingredients such as soy sauce, sweet chilli sauce, fish sauce and flavoured oils are great store cupboard staples, they can transform a simple salad or bowl of noodles or rice. This salad also makes a fab packed lunch which is why I've stated the recipe for roughly 8 servings, you could use less but it's really worth making a larger quantity.

Sesame peanut noodles

Recipe
For the dressing
1 tbsp sesame oil
1 tbsp garlic oil (I blend a clove of fresh garlic in olive oil)
1 tbsp soy sauce
2 tbsps sweet chilli sauce
100g smooth peanut butter
2 tbsps fresh lime juice

For the salad
125g mangetout
150g beansprouts, rinsed
1 red pepper, de-seeded and cut into strips
2 spring onions, finely sliced
500g ready-prepared noodles
20g sesame seeds
Fresh coriander

Simply whisk together all of the dressing ingredients
Place mangetout, beansprouts, pepper strips, spring onions and noodles in a bowl
Pour the dressing over and mix thoroughly, coating everything well
Divide into bowls and scatter sesame seeds and fresh coriander over the top

'I was born in a hospital.
But I do not want to die in one.'
-J. R. Rim.

Love Donna xxxxxx

Antimicrobial Resistance. We Need A Massive Rethink.

One of my biggest fears is the fact that we are entering a post-antibiotic world. The brevity of this situation means that routine human infections will become untreatable and have the power to kill us. In the days before antibiotics the world was a much more hazardous place, people routinely died of common illnesses such as urinary tract infections, whooping cough, pneumonia and even paper cuts.

Unfortunately, even if (like me) you only take antibiotics as a last resort, unless you are eating higher-welfare meat, eggs and dairy products, you are already half way there to being antimicrobial resistant.

Over 70 billion animals are farmed for food worldwide and 70% of those animals are kept in intensive systems. Due to the emphasis on high productivity, animals are kept in cramped, filthy bacteria ridden conditions. Disease is so rife that factory farmers are mass medicating the animals, they are continuously dosed up with drugs via their feed and water, and then they go into the food chain.

Instead of looking at improving the horrific conditions these animals are living in and returning them to their natural environment, factory farmers are increasingly over-using drugs to prevent disease thus bringing us to the brink of a human health crisis.

By the age of twenty five most of us will have contracted some sort of infection that needed treating with antibiotics. Pre antibiotics, common infections had an extremely high likelihood of fatality or amputation and infant mortality was severe, yet we are buying and eating mass medicated animals and dairy products with impunity?

For generations, people survived eating much less meat than we do now, rather than eating vast amounts of intensely farmed, drugged animals, we should be thinking about higher welfare, organic and free-range. Yes they may cost more, yes you may have to eat less, but that has to be preferable to the formidable rise of antimicrobial resistance and a return to young children dying from an infected scrape on their knee!

Chicken is supposed to be a 'healthy' source of high-quality nutrition, however, it is impossible to mass produce them in a clean or safe environment at rock bottom prices. As a result of its cheapness our consumption has doubled since 1970 and many of us rarely give a thought for these diseased, drugged birds and the health implications, not only for the birds but for us. We shudder at the thought of eating something that is a couple of days past its expiry date for fear of bacteria, yet the animals we eat have been kept in squalid conditions where bacterial resistance is a devastating problem, kept at bay only by pumping the animals full of drugs........sounds yummy doesn't it!

                                              Battery hens living in cramped conditions.

Although I was a vegetarian for many years, I now eat meat, poultry and fish, however, I'm mindful of the terrible, distressing conditions animals are kept in and will only buy higher welfare. Many supermarkets now stock higher welfare and free-range goods that are only fractionally dearer and let's face it, it doesn't hurt to have a couple of meat-free meals a week.

In this next recipe I used free-range chicken thighs which I bought from my butcher, people tend to stick to chicken breasts as they require little imagination when cooking but thighs are economical and tasty and there is no excuse not to buy free-range.

Baked orange chicken

Recipe
Serves 4
8 skin on free-range chicken thighs
4 tablespoons orange marmalade
Juice of half an orange
1 teaspoon of English mustard
1 orange sliced
Salt and pepper

Line a baking tray with greaseproof paper
Preheat oven 160c/gas mark 3
Mix the chicken with the marmalade, orange juice and mustard, season with salt and pepper

Scatter orange slices over chicken

Bake for 40 minutes

Set aside and cover loosely with foil
In a small pan add the marmalade juices to a tablespoon of plain flour and some boiled water stirring continuously until you have a thick glossy gravy

Serve with mashed potatoes and peas

'Some experts say we are moving back to a pre-antibiotic era. No. This will be a post-antibiotic era. In terms of a new replacement antibiotic, the pipeline is virtually dry. A post-antibiotic era means, in effect, an end to modern medicine as we know it. Things as common as strep throat or a child's scratched knee could once again kill.'
- Margaret Chan.

Love Donna xxxxxxxx

Bullying, A National Epidemic.

A collage of photos I made along with the children (who each made their own) when I worked in special needs education.

Regular readers will be familiar with my going off on a completely un-food related tangent from time to time, well, I'm my own boss and I have the platform to write about anything I choose I guess, as to whether readers are interested is possibly a different matter.

But this next subject is close to my heart and worthy of a post I think, although minus a recipe.

Last week I came across a disturbing piece of footage, a two-year-old boy was in the care of an early learning centre (nursery, kindergarten) and video surveillance captured him being beaten more than 20 times with a plastic object by a 'care' employee. Another female employee witnessed the whole scene, but did nothing to stop the woman, this was obviously not an isolated incident.

We tend to allude to the idea that bullies are those evil people out there whom we would never associate with and whose behaviour we would never tolerate. Yet in every situation I have come across in life, (school, the workplace, social groups etc) there is always a bully who is supported by an entourage, thus perpetuating his/her behaviour.

When I was in senior school a girl in my class was bullied relentlessly on a daily basis for what seemed like an eternity. The bullying finally stopped when the girl was hit around the head with a bag full of heavy books, rendering her unconscious. The bully panicked and thereafter left the girl alone. But to my shame, I cowered in fear and horror as this vulnerable girl was picked on (as did the rest of the class) and it haunts me to this day. Why didn't I report it to a teacher? Or my parents? I know I would never have confronted the girl and her gang, I was too terrified, but I should have done something!

What that experience did teach me, was never to be complicit in a bullies behaviour ever again, there is no gesture more devastating or cowardly than the back turning away.

Bullies rely on the fear of others and I have witnessed backs turning away in many situations. People often choose to either ignore bullying or worse still, to close ranks with the bully in order to defend themselves. There has recently been a wave of concern regarding bullying/abuse within the care sector (care homes for the elderly, hospitals, nursery schools in the private sector, homes for people with learning disabilities) where the problem is endemic. Under qualified staff on poor wages are given responsibility caring for people with incredibly complex psychological and physical needs, many carers are out of their depth and rather like the dickensian workhouses, atrocities of abuse are prevalent.

Having worked in a 'caring' environment I have seen bullying at its worst. Much of it was subversive bullying amongst the staff, however, a member of senior management would regularly make condescending remarks about certain children's appearances, safe in the knowledge none of the children could respond or tell their parents. Ironically, when I gave the person a taste of their own medicine, she was incandescent with rage.

By ignoring bullies we enable them, whether we indulge in their gossip or wounding sarcasm, most bullies are cowards by nature and we have a moral obligation to our fellow human beings to stand up to them. Bullies can have the power to ostracise us (but who wants to be part of a group of abusers and cowards?) They can make us fear for our jobs, yet if we collectively stand up to them they lose their power. As Roosevelt said: 'Knowing what's right means nothing unless you do what's right.'

'In a world where you can be anything, be kind.'
-anonymous.

Love Donna xxxxx