TEMPORARY MEASURE

Whenever we visit Keswick which, in recent times, has been about twice a year, we really don't feel as if it's been a "proper" visit unless we call in at "Temporary Measure" which is a little tea room slash coffee shop slash art gallery slash wool shop that we first popped into about half a dozen years ago now and found to be very much to our liking.

I don't know why it appealed, to be honest with you, because the "coffee shop" part doesn't seem to be the main part of its raison d'être, if you get my drift, but they do a rather spiffing range of cakes and biscuits and serve a decent cup of joe and/or hot chocolate in a relatively pleasant environment without giving you the impression that they're trying to hurry you on out of the place, and, I suppose, that's all we really want from a place of refreshment.

You may want more than this, of course, when you take your seat and require some refreshment, and I'm sure such an outlet is not to everyone's taste, but it suits us just fine.

Inside, amidst the old chairs and retro bric-a-brac, the walls are covered with pictures - photographs printed onto canvas with pithy, witty or downright profound text added to them, some of which are photographs of  places that I've been to myself, which always adds a pleasantly nostalgic air to our visits.

It matters little to me that our visits usually put me into lowest chair in the world, and that one day I shall probably sit down there and be unable to get up again, although sometimes, if it's available, I might find myself sitting on the the hugest, softest leather sofa in the kingdom, which adds another extra dimension because there are usually close to hand a selection of the kind of "coffee table" books of photographs that will draw men in and later find me dashing to Amazon to order my own copy at the earliest opportunity…

Quite often, it is the music of "Sycamore Sykes" which provides the soundtrack to these visits, a local musician who appears to have become the kind of unofficial "house (one man?) band" to the place and which gives an unobtrusively moody and poignant accompaniment to your cappuccino without becoming overtly obvious and "musak-y" like some other establishments I could mention.

The other main advantage to this watering hole of choice is that they sell a great deal of wool, as well as the patterns with which to render exciting things from it, which always makes it a popular choice of destination for the Beloved as it gives her the opportunity to restock the fundamental equipment needed in order to continue with one of her hobbies of choice.

We even like the name, too, given that it serves to remind us that the temporary measures of life can tend to end up being what we actually do, and that, as someone far more profound than I am once said, "Life is what happens while you're busy making other plans…"

Anyway, I'm not wanting to sit here confusing you with creating a bit of free advertising for somewhere many of you might never actually go to, but if you do happen to ever be in the area, please do please pay them a visit, for purely selfish reasons, of course.

After all,  going to Keswick just wouldn't be the same for us without it, so we need the rest of you to keep it going when we're not around.

PIE WEEK

I actually went out during the evening in the middle of the week which is, as you might already know, something of a rarity and an event well worthy of, if not exactly shouting about, certainly allowing myself to cough out a mild “Ahem!” before hanging out the metaphorical bunting for it, and generally tooting somewhat loudly and annoyingly upon the striped cardboard kazoo that lurks inside my mind.

Granted, I picked up my Beloved from the train straight from work and headed off to the pub with her, and we were home slightly after seven o’clock, but in and of itself, despite being a small step back out into the world, this was still a giant leap for us.

This was all because it was “National Pie Week” and the various pubs, restaurants, shops and pie-makers of this great land of ours had come together during a week already associated with another Great British Food Institution – “Pancake Day” – and the start of the period of Lent, which is, of course, usually associated with a certain amount of restraint, to celebrate the general brilliance that is the Great British Pie.

On reflection, perhaps they might have chosen a better week.

Anyway, for the particular pub/restaurant that we headed off towards, their marketing had obviously paid dividends because without their electronic mailshot, I probably would not have even noticed that “National Pie Week” or “British Pie Week” (or whatever it was that they chose to call it) was actually happening.

In fact, I actually thought that they were making it up, that this was merely some kind of made up marketing nonsense, a ploy designed to artificially build up trade, but, a brief internet search proved that, despite some confusion over what it is actually referred to as, “Pie Week” itself is actually a “thing” and so, when the email turned up, our venture out into the world of pie-eating was almost guaranteed.

This is the double-edged result of being on a mailing list from one of your favourite eateries. It’s all very well to fill in the little card at the end of the evening because you’ve had a great evening, but your inbox will then get occasional notifications of other potentially great evenings that you hadn’t previously even considered, which can seem quite tempting, and end up dipping unexpectedly into the monthly funds.

Granted, in general, we are able to resist these siren songs. Most of the exciting entertainments on offer are entirely resistible, even when the menus look good, although we do have a weakness for the “taster menu” nights which pop up from time to time.

Anyway, a few minutes after leaving the station, we were sitting in our pub of choice and ordering our “Pie and a Pint” meals from their special “Pie Week” menu, although I then had to watch as the Beloved drank both of the pints of real ale which turned because I was driving and sniffily partook of my usual Diet Coke...

The way that the “Red Lion” had approached “Pie Week” was to offer two different alternative pies alongside their standard Cheese & Onion option on each night of the week.

On the particular night we were there, these included both Pork and Lamb options, alongside with the Pigeon Pie that was being offered as a starter on the other menu.

But, to preserve a certain amount of mystery about my life, and to try and prove my belief that you really don’t have to share absolutely everything about your life with everyone, I’m not going tell you which pies we chose (Although, you’d probably be able to work it out quite easily from the attached photograph anyway, because I’m nothing if not hypocritical when it comes to such things.) Anyway, the point is that it was a mighty fine pair of pies which we ate for our dinner that evening, and they were very much enjoyed.

Other far more capable writers than I am might now attempt to amuse you with tales of the potted history of the pie, stories of pie-eating competitions, or even with the history of “Pie Week” itself, but I'm not going to do that to you just to increase my measly word-count and pretend that I know far more about pies than other, more eminent pie-based web pages could tell you about at the flick of a search engine, should you wish to explore further.

No, all I want to do now is sit back, loosen my belt, and savour the memory and taste of a mighty fine pie.

“Pie Week…” I hope that you found a way to celebrate it somehow, too.

REPUTATIONS

The last entry (I think) in what seems to have evolved into this - perhaps self-indulgent - short series of postings about the holiday eateries we experienced during this year's summer break in Anglesey, which I hope haven't been too much of an endurance test for your patience. After all, other people's holidays are always SO entertaining, aren't they...?

Some places have reputations.

Sometimes they're good and sometimes they're not so good, but, generally, if you find yourself in a place with which you're generally unfamiliar, you tend to go off the recommendations of others and trust that, when people tell you that somewhere is a good place to eat, you tend to believe them.

This is why, for the last night of our holidays this year, a date which also coincided approximately with one of the "significant dates" in our annual diary, we decided to book ourselves into a restaurant with a reputation...

We'd tried to go there before, to be honest, after being told about its rather impressive seafood menu before we visited last year and, after weaving our way through a labyrinth of tiny country roads, we found ourselves pulling up outside just as they finished serving lunch at 1.30 in the afternoon, and so we had to find somewhere else to eat.

At the time I thought that it was an odd time to close your doors for the afternoon but then, well, I've never actually run a restaurant, so what do I know...?

This was, perhaps, not the best of starts for our relationship with the place, but it did, at least, give us twelve months to anticipate the meal that we knew that we were almost certain that we were going to enjoy there.

And so, having arrived on the island again, we made a point of booking our table for the Saturday evening several days in advance, and found that we were quite looking forward to ending our holiday sitting in this well respected seafood restaurant and watching the sun set.

An unfortunate midweek encounter did rather put us on our guard, however. After a meal at another restaurant, one which was far more local to the place we were staying in, we went for a bit of a stroll along the seafront and ran into a wise old couple who had seen us eating earlier on in the evening. When we mentioned our Saturday night plans they paused and gave each other a look which I  can only describe as being "significant" before proceeding to mention a whole list of other excellent eateries.

Hmmm...

Still, we refused to be put off and stuck to our plans. After all, bookings were still hard to come by at this place, so it couldn't be surviving merely upon reputation alone, could it...? People wouldn't just go there because it was popular and without showing any kind of personal discernment, would they...?

Part of me thinks that perhaps they actually would.

It's not that the meal was awful because it wasn't, and it's not that we had a dreadful evening, because we didn't, it's just that... Oh, I don't know... There was just something that didn't quite gel for me. It was almost as if that fine reputation it had meant that they didn't have to try too hard any more, if you get my meaning...?

The place kind of gave out the air that it was, perhaps, resting on its laurels and failing to move with the times.

The decor generally looked as if it hadn't been updated since the 1970s and, whilst I accept that they were trying to maintain that homely air that you were eating in someone's living room, even living rooms do get redecorated from time to time. Even as we were being seated in the bar area for our order to be taken (a nice touch that I always prefer), I noticed the kind of wrought ironwork surrounding an archway that instantly reminded me of the kind of Spanish package tour hotels that my parents used to take me to when I was a child which, whilst it added a pleasant enough nostalgic touch, didn't really make me feel as if the place was very up-to-date.

On our previous fleeting visit, we had got a glimpse of the very modern furniture and been persuaded by this that the interior was far classier than it turned out to be, but, if you are going to buy modern furniture, surely you'd shut down for a month in the winter and spruce up the surroundings a little too, wouldn't you? Other mall touches like the leather placemats reminded you of the infamous Berni Inns, and other detailing like a small stereo playing the greatest hits of Michael Buble or someone just perched upon a spare chair, the very visible children's high chair holding open a door, and the very tired looking wallpaper and cornicing made me want to find them the number of a decent plasterer to give the place a refreshing skim over. On the whole, you were left thinking that the interior was all rather "retro" but neither in a good way, nor in an ironic way, if you get my drift...?

I'll try to ignore the antics of the family on the table next to us, where the younger daughter Nadia obviously had a massive crush on Marcus, the boyfriend of her not-yet-sixteen-year-old-but looking-twenty-if-she was-a-day big sister and didn't seem afraid to let everyone know it, because it's hardly fair to hold a restaurant responsible for its clientele, is it...?

Nevertheless, before this turns into the total whinge-fest I suspect it already is, I wouldn't want anyone to think that we didn't have a good evening, because we did, and, really, the food was excellent. I will have to admit that and, ultimately, I guess that's the most important thing when you're going out for a meal...

Isn't it...?

And the sunset was pretty spectacular and all rather fabulous, too...

THE APPLE TREE

Seeing as I seem to have developed a "mini-theme" this week about my holiday-time favorite eateries, just thought that I'd take a few moments of both  my time and yours to mention "The Apple Tree", a little cafe attached to the Pentraeth Nurseries Garden Centre as you take the A5025 from Menai north through Pentraeth towards Amlwch.

Part gift shop and part cafe, sitting inside a tent-like structure, it might not, at first, perhaps look like the most promising of tea shops, but it's run by a very friendly family and, to be perfectly honest with you,  really does do the very finest of cream teas featuring some of the very best scones known to humanity.

Okay... I'll admit that I haven't (yet) tasted all of the scones known to humanity, but these were good enough to bring us back significantly out of our way to have another dose of them.

I did, however find myself worrying a little about "The Apple Tree..." although, as with most things that I worry about, it's probably with no good reason.

It's just that it always seemed so empty whenever we arrived that it really does make you begin to wonder whether it will still be there the next time we are lucky enough to pass by, especially when it's one of those little havens which we really enjoy exploring. It's not as if we even give it the most regular of custom ourselves. After all, it's perhaps only once or twice during the one week of the year that we're in the area and we probably do pretty much forget all about for much of the rest of the year.

Actually, that's not true.

I find that I've been thinking about those scones a heck of a lot, but unfortunately I'm unlikely to be "just passing" all that regularly...

Sometimes it's just nice to know that it's there and hope that it's still there and waiting for our return next time, and hope that, if I put in a good word or twelve, enough other people will seek it out and find it appealing enough so that, the next time we go, it's still there for us to enjoy.

I know... I'm displaying a totally selfish agenda here, aren't I...?

Still, I think I know you all well enough that I know that you're all going to help me out here if you can, aren't you...?

So, remember...

"The Apple Tree" is a cafe, or perhaps a tea room, connected to a garden centre in the town of Pentraeth which you have to pass on your way to the north of Anglesey.

Try it out if you can.

Especially those scones...

Your taste buds will love you forever if you do...

And I, of course, will be eternally grateful to you to...

THE OYSTER CATCHER

I've never had any desire to be a restaurant critic, not least because I've really not got the most discerning of palates nor the most adventurous of tastes. It took me years to discover pizza and even then it was only by accident when I ate one at a party and said that oh-so-fateful phrase "This is nice, what is it...?"

Occasionally I can still fail to order certain things because I'm not sure about how to eat them and I'd rather not show myself up in public, although thankfully, the days of the snotty maitre'd - at least in the places I can afford to eat in - seem to have passed. I can still remember, unfortunately and with a certain amount of embarrassment, wondering about which bits of the broccoli you were supposed to eat when they were first presented to me upon a plate. That was during the times when I was hanging around with a lot of vegetarians who would introduce me to all sorts of exotic foodstuffs of the kind that seldom made it into my mother's weekly shop when I was growing up.

Far out of my way foodstuffs with strange sounding names like couscous, or humous, or feta, or guacamole, would be served up and I would regard them with a certain amount of suspicion before deciding that I actually quite liked most of them. Even now, of course, they're seldom my first choice, but they aren't half tasty if you're getting hungry.

Similarly, only last week I found myself eating - and enjoying - noodles for the first time despite having shunned their apparent blandness for many a long year.

Generally speaking, however, if I am going to have a meal in a restaurant, for me it's usually a "special occasion" and I tend to fall back upon choices that I know that I'm going to like, otherwise it seems a bit of a waste to fork out significant quantities of hard-earned pennies for something that I'm really not sure that I'll actually enjoy.

That's why we've taken to attending the occasional "taster menu" evening lately, so we can try new things without heading home feeling both hungry and vaguely disappointed.

So what, you may ask, has this all got to do with "The Oyster Catcher"...?

Well, the thing is, when we arrived at our holiday destination on Anglesey a few weeks ago, we had tickets booked for "Macbeth" over on the other side of the island and so, having dropped off our luggage, it seemed only reasonable to ask our hosts whether they could recommend anywhere to eat in that general area, and they suggested that very restaurant, over in Rhosneigr, and, when looking at their watch, thought that we'd be okay to go there at that time of the afternoon without making reservations, because it is a pretty popular place.

It turns out that we couldn't get a table inside, but we could sit anywhere on the upstairs decking area, with its little beach huts, if there was a table available which, luckily, there was.

Anyway the food was good, and so far, so blah, but the real reason I want to mention this place to you is because it is another of the Timpson family's fine efforts to do some good works in the community. 

You see, the "Oyster Catcher" is one of those projects designed to give youngsters a leg up into the restaurant trade, and, much like Jamie Oliver's "Fifteen" projects, gives a group of them a years placement and training before they go off and work in some of the best restaurants in the country and the world and, as projects go, it really is to be applauded and, more importantly perhaps, supported.

Interestingly, this meant that your service was done by quite a large number of different people over the course of the meal which can be quite disconcerting when you're trying to catch a particular eye and ask for the bill, but that's just a personal thing.

I like to know who it is I'm dealing with.

However, this approach did mean that we enjoyed the company of a wide range of very friendly and helpful staff, which is no bad thing. We especially appreciated the efforts of one lad who was obviously very, very shy, but who had obviously practiced hard at having a useful conversational gambit to try out on people so that he could engage with them more effectively, and really felt that we should applaud and acknowledge his efforts.

Furthermore, as we made our way downstairs through the restaurant as we were heading off for the evening (to the equally impressive Ucheldre Arts Centre), we noticed an eclectic mix of rather impressive artworks hanging on the walls. These were from another project supported by the Timpson Foundation, which is to encourage and display the artwork created by convicted prisoners which, whilst as an idea might be distasteful to some, I found to be a very laudable concept and also worthy of mention.

All-in-all, it was a very impressive meal, in a very impressive set-up and, if you ever find yourself passing by on your way to Holyhead or wherever, it's definitely a restaurant worth supporting.