Its really rather astounding. When I began my cycling journey, I certainly never expected I would be enjoying a good old Sunday roast-- if anything an endless array of solitary meals on my little camp stove. Sunday Roasts are a near forgotten family tradition for me. I fondly remember sitting around the dinner table while my dad carved up a lamb or beef roast as the mashed potatoes were passed around the table amongst my clamoring brothers and sisters.
Yet, there it was, in all its dazzling splendour before me. My friend had just served up a roast leg of lamb, garnished with caraway jacket potatoes, beans, carrots and a tremendously decadent gravy. We all clinked wine glasses and toasted to "Russell"-- an apropos toast as his name is also Russell.
I happen to LOVE lamb. Russell's did not disapoint. The lamb was done to perfection in the tradition of Russell's own Welsh family recipe. What a wonderful meal. It won't be forgotten anytime soon.
But it wasn't just the food. I have been staying with a handful of English folk who work at a hostel here in Swanage. They all live together in a large communal house. I've been here the two weeks, and they've opened up gracefully to let me stay in their midst. The cooking has been going on back and forth-- the other week I cooked up some of my famous Canadian Potatoe Soup (see the Maier family recipe) the other weekend as we played a game of scrabble.
Its been all been an unbeleivably rich immersion into English culture. You simply can't plan or even pay for something like this! The meals have just been one of many great experiences getting to know these folks.
When I travel I love meeting people. Staying and making friends with these great folks has not only a culinary experience, but an experience in English accents, television, comedy, humour, and... love.
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