British Summer times
Fife, Scotland, Chester, England and Bangor-On-Dee, Wales Summer 2021 and 2022
Fife’s Seafood shacks and ancient seats
The ancient Kingdom of Fife lies across the Firth of Forth from Edinburgh and is still referred to as ‘the Kingdom’ throughout Scotland, as its fame as a distinct dominion dates back to Roman times.
We’re here to meet an old LA friend who recently settled in these parts and whilst there’s no lovelier prospect than long summer days and evenings spent at this latitude, we can’t help but silently wonder how he is going to deal with his first frigid, dark at 3pm winter here, (‘California dreamin’ seems like a distinct possibility).
Now of all the seafood shacks we’ve visited on Scotland’s east coast, Elie’s Harbour Café which sits right by the town’s beach, comes closest to delivering the dream of startlingly fresh shellfish served in a real shack without ceremony and we duly pull up a couple of mismatched chairs to the oil drum table in the foreground of the photo below and get stuck into our langoustines using the small rock provided to crack open the shells.
An hour or so later we’re in St Andrews, a town (or ‘burgh’ as the Scots tell it) so ancient that it owes its misspelling to a time before the invention of the apostrophe. Not content with that claim to fame, it sports the world’s third oldest university which our LA friend attended, as have a string of major and minor British Royals. Then there’s the small matter (if that’s your thing), of the Royal & Ancient Golf Club of St Andrews, the self-styled ‘home of golf’ which is the premier pilgrimage site of that fabulously pricey and time consuming pastime and of the ‘Old Course’ where it all began.
It being July the student population are long gone and instead check-flanneled golfing hordes have flooded the place, booking out every decent restaurant table, hotel and B&B in town and madly inflating prices in the process. Our perfectly nice B&B may be a mere 100 yards from from the Old Course’s 18th green and a short walk to West Sands Beach, the famous (if entirely fictitious) ‘Chariots of Fire’ movie location where the British team’s sprinters train for the 1924 Paris Olympics by running in slow motion through surf to the mournful synthesiser strains of Vangelis’s instrumental, but what they are charging is decidedly punchy, even with the inclusion of a massive ‘full Scottish’ breakfast.
No matter. We listen enthralled as our old friend shows us around and we see the town’s non golfing ancient seats- its university, ruined cathedral and castle through his eyes as he recounts his alma mater’s eccentric traditions in situ, including the walk that red robed students (Hogwarts for real) make along the 13th century stone pier every Sunday during term time after chapel, massive hangovers not withstanding.
On our way to dinner at a Pizza chain restaurant (the only table reservation we were able to make on the fly) we pass wistfully by one of Scotland’s finest seafood restaurants which is right by the beach and dream that night of the hand dived Orkney Scallops, East Neuk Crab Spaghetti and Steam Day Boat Halibut with Shetland Mussels that we should have been delightfully digesting instead. Learning our lesson, the next day we visit another seafood shack to put together a platter of oysters, crab and langoustines and enjoy it as a picnic dinner in the B&B’s garden.
Leaving Sabrina to catch up on her seagull squawk disturbed sleep, I walk the Old Course before breakfast under stormy skies, crossing the famous Swilcan ‘burn’ which weaves its way elegantly across the 1st and 18th fairways. Foursomes stand by nervously for their tee off times and curious spectators wait impatiently next to a helpful Health & Safety reminder sign, with cameras at the ready to record them red-facedly fluffing or shanking their tee shots.
‘Old Tom Morris’, who won the British Open Championship on this course a record four times in the 1860s, will no doubt be turning in his grave.
‘Ladies Days’ at the races
Sabrina’s love of the ‘sport of kings’ was born and bred on the racetracks of Southern California where she learned the dark arts of studying form and exotic betting techniques (Exactas and Trifectas which come in a bewildering assortment of flavours are her preferences). Let’s just say that my more instinctive approach rarely succeeds and leave it at that.
So when we left behind the sun-kissed Art Deco beauties of LA’s Santa Anita and San Diego’s Del Mar and moved to London, Sabrina could not wait to see what the UK had to offer. History is one obvious answer, as whilst the tracks at Santa Anita and Del Mar (founded by Bing Crosby, no less) date back to the mid 1930s, Chester held its first races during Henry the Eighth’s reign and is officially recognised by that Guinness book as being “the oldest racecourse still in operation”. History however is no guarantee of race goer decorum and after the politeness of SoCal’s crowds, Chester’s ‘Ladies Day’ tested the boundaries of that description to destruction, with inebriated displays of high heeled out of towner teeter-tottering seldom seen outside of a destination hen party. “Roodee” as the racecourse is nicknamed for its location on the banks of the River Dee, took on a whole new meaning.
So it was with equal parts amusement, curiosity and trepidation that we accepted an invitation to another ‘Ladies Day’ at Chester’s sister racecourse in Bangor-On-Dee. on the other side of that river and just across the Welsh border, discovering that while not exactly as advertised in the programme as an occasion when “North Wales only racecourse becomes a showcase for glamour and style”, the mainly local crowd seemed much more interested in the racing action than drinking the bars dry. This characterful little racecourse set in glorious countryside overlooked by the Welsh Hills is the only one in the British Isles without a grandstand, all the better to focus attention away from the hats and frocks onto the serious business of studying the form in The Racing Post, of admiring the horseflesh in the paddock and of calibrating the perfect betting strategy for steeplechase (jumps) racing, with its extra element of unpredictability.
Sabrina was back in her element at last.
Bemused that two ‘Ladies Days’ taking place less than 20 miles apart could be so dramatically different, we recross the river for dinner in the comically named village of Bunbury, which manages to support no less than four pubs and whose beautiful 14th century St Boniface’s Church is famed for the ornate tomb of England’s oldest Naval Commander, Sir George Beeston who at the extraordinary age of eighty nine fought against the Spanish Armada.
Lancashire Hotpot: Serves Four
This classic North of England dish rarely makes an appearance on pub or restaurant menus these days (mostly destined for the microwave), but more’s the pity as made from scratch it is delicious.
4 shoulder chops
2 medium onions, thinly sliced
2 lbs potatoes, thinly sliced
8 oz button mushrooms, stems trimmed
1 tbsp thyme leaves
1 tsp rosemary, finely chopped
Heat a large fry pan with 2 tablespoon of olive oil, brown the chops on both sides, transfer to a dish. Add the onions, cook until soft, transfer to a dish. Add 1 cup of water to the pan and deglaze, scraping any bits that might have stuck to the bottom of the pan. Using a ceramic or earthenware dish with deep sides, put a layer of potatoes, then the chops, mushrooms, herbs, and onions, then finish with the rest of the potato slices. Season to taste, pour the liquid from the pan over the potatoes, dot with 1 tablespoon of butter, then cover with foil and roast for 45 minutes, remove the cover and roast for another 30 minutes or until the potatoes are golden brown.
A fun post! Living in SoCal, it would be easy enough to visit the Santa Anita or Del Mar racecourses or any of a number of golfing locations (including one a mile away!), but, unlike Sabrina, I'm not much of a sports fan. Still, your tales are entertaining and beautifully written, and the photos are enticing, as is Sabrina's dish. I assume these are lamb shoulder chops, and I could use any potatoes I like, right? It does sound delicious!
"I have invented an invaluable permanent invalid called Bunbury, in order that I may be able to go down into the country whenever I choose. Bunbury is perfectly invaluable. If it wasn’t for Bunbury’s extraordinary bad health, for instance, I wouldn’t be able to dine with you at Willis’s to-night"
~ Oscar Wilde
THE IMPORTANCE OF BEING EARNEST