We have some really lovely vintage watches in store at the moment. Am tempted to take the Bernex home.
And, though you can’t see it in these pictures we have our own Black Bough branded leather straps. Get us.
Stop laughing at the back.
Not sure I’m quite ready to deal with the preparation and cooking of tongue myself. But while others (that I trust) are willing to do it, I am willing to eat it. Particularly when it comes in the format below; with some exemplary sourdough and a generous amount of homemade herby mayonnaise. Not my own sourdough note – but there have been big improvements on that front.
This week’s day off thus centred around lunch at the Green Cafe. We had made it to Shobdon Church beforehand – following an article in World of Interiors earlier in the year (at the end of last year?) – however such is the extent of the renovations that the bulk of the Strawberry Hill Gothic interior is not viewable. Did however chance upon a huge walled garden by the church (inaccessible but oh so tempting) and a field of blackcurrant bushes – my favourite summer fruit and an excuse to go back, check on the church renovations and sneak a handful of currants.
Not *that* lurid, but lurid nonetheless. These examples (of a plant that I have no intention of allowing within earshot of my own garden but secretly quite like) are at Hergest Croft garden just outside Kington.
An idea I’ve often toyed with but until recently never attempted. It’s a mythical beast the sourdough starter, subject to its own life force. I have hope for mine but as yet is not providing the bread that I lust after – for that, however, I can still walk 30 paces up the road and buy it from Prices. Not quite the smug experience that I might get from having made it myself but a more immediate sense of glee and satisfaction.
You’ll note no actual pictures of finished loaves. I’ll leave it as is – when the finished loaf looks as good as the dough promises it might then I’ll photograph it. Think I need to change the flours. This one was 100% wholemeal, apparently a white/rye mixture is the way to go. Meanwhile the starter needs feeding again tonight – like a demanding baby.
The keen eyed viewer of ITV’s flagship rural affairs programme Countrywise – it’s a bit like Countryfile only not as good, may have spotted a momentary flash of the beacon of good taste that is Black Bough on Tuesday’s programme. Thanks to the joys of screen grabbing . . . I give you . . .
Agreed, you may have to enlarge somewhat in order to grasp the full magnitude.
The life of a budding retailer doesn’t allow much scope for Bank Holidays. I surreptitiously caught glimpses of the weekend’s nuptials via the shop computer and when there were no potential customers in the vicinity – judging that if someone had made a conscious decision to be out and about they were presumably trying to avoid aforementioned celebrations.
So the weekly day off was welcome. No great agenda for the day out, a dissection of an auction sale, a walk to the top of a hill, a spot of gardening. Also spent a while trying to persuade our broody hens that their instincts were false – as yet there’s been no great response to the act of lifting them out of the nesting box (they just make their way back there) so, on the recommendation of some friends, I tried the ice pack in the nest box method. Resilient animals hens; they were a little put out, but that was about the extent of their reaction to this arctic chill. We’ve got used to 3 eggs a day, so dropping to one a day is a bit of a blow.