I recently travelled to Cornwall, for what was an extremely special weekend, and one I’ll never forget. But that’s not what this post is about. This post is about the last time I went to Cornwall, a little over a year ago.
I had never been to Cornwall before last year, when I was very kindly invited down to visit a friend. It was to be a boys’ weekend.
We were staying in North Cornwall, and were lucky enough to have access to a boat.
We were also lucky with the weather, in what must really be one of the most beautiful places in the whole world. People are rude about England, calling it drab and unexciting. Fine, let them miss out, I say. Because this is truly, truly stunning.
We took the boat out, and went to sea. We had stopped at a petrol station en route, and picked up a bunch of mackerel lines for a few quid each. We cast them over the side and sat back, popping the cap on a couple of bottles of Peroni each.
Within a few minutes, we felt tugs at the lines, and hauled them skywards, plucking out of the Atlantic Ocean fresh, rainbow-glittering mackerel.
Then it was back to the beach, and time to set up the mini barbecue. This was my actual view as we ate our lunch.
Whilst some of the boys slaved away with the charcoal and embers (read: argued about how best to get it going, or, as the picture demonstrates, spent more time mucking around with marshmallows), Ben the Boat Driver went off to gut the fish.
Soon they were cooking.
And even sooner they were cooked.
And they were truly, wonderfully fantastic.
Now, that’s what I call fresh and locally sourced food. Fresh? 30 minutes from ocean to plate. Food miles? Not even one, I reckon.
And, of course, just in case we didn’t catch anything (and we hardly caught much), we grabbed a bunch of local sausages from a lovely Cornish butcher with anamazing array of different bangers.
All in all, a very special day out.
- GrubsterBoy -