It's not often Becky and I go in for fine dining. Most of our meals out are fairly straightforward affairs. The odd fillet steak here and there. Or perhaps a nice piece of fish.
But every now and then we treat ourselves to some posh nosh. And yesterday was one of those days.
First stop was The Traddock at Austwick. Becky opted for dressed crab (pictured). I went for a gammon sandwich (granted doesn't sound very fancy but the home made bread and chutney made the difference). Then we shared a delicious rhubarb crumble.
Then onto Hipping Hall for a two night stay without the kids.
Hipping Hall is a delightful little boutique hotel just off the A65 near Kirkby Lonsdale. We first stayed here about five years ago. The attention to detail is first class. Far from being stuffy, the service is relaxed but attentive. The bedrooms are cosy with thick faux fur drapes and comfortable beds.
When you arrive you are invited into the lounge for tea and cake. Teas are complimentary throughout your stay. A nice little touch.
Anyway dinner is the main event. Aperitifs in the lounge and an amuse bouche, one of which was an onion macaroon. Then into the dining room with a roaring fire and a smokey aroma. A pre starter courtesy of the chef - a shot glass of lobster and avocado (a posh prawn cocktail).
For the real starters I had belly pork and Becky went for a turbot terrine with a tempura oyster on the side.
Then for our mains I opted for guinea foul, a first for me. It was like the best chicken I'd ever had. Moist and full of flavour.
Becky chose hogget. Sounds like pork doesn't it? Must be. Looks very meaty though for pork. Maybe it's the breed. One bit is quite tough to cut through though. Maybe it's beef after all. Damn I like beef.
No you idiots. Hogget is a one year old sheep. Not lamb. Not mutton. Hogget. I told you we don't do fine dining very often. Heathens that we are. Reminded me of years ago when we ate at a posh place in Edinburgh calked The Witchery and had to ask how to eat oysters. I'm glad we did though as we'd always assumed you chuck them down your throat. Not at all. Chew slowly like a muscle. No tobasco masking the flavour. Just a squeeze of lemon.
Anyway then Becky had cheese and I had an amazing apple tart / jelly / struddle thing. Gorgeous.
Then the evening was all wrapped up with a single shot of espresso together with petit fours and a rather large cognac.