Red Sauce Brown Sauce by Felicity Cloake

Author:Felicity Cloake
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollinsPublishers
Published: 2022-07-15T00:00:00+00:00

Honey

Strawberries

An old microwave full of eggs (the microwave wasn’t for sale, but is, I discovered, commonly repurposed in this way)

Potatoes

Bedding plants

I return to Gleneagles the next morning in the company of Harry and Jay, to discover the grand dining room is currently closed to non-residents thanks to Covid. Instead we join the men in neatly pressed polo shirts and comical visors in the golf club bar, which has deep tartan carpets and a full fire going at 10 a.m. on this fine June day.

Spotting the excellent-looking morning rolls the table next to us are tucking into with knives and forks, Donald Trump style, I decide it’s time to show them how it’s done. Ignoring what I learnt in Belfast about such rolls – best confined to one meat product, one carb product and one egg – in my greed to try as much as possible, I order mine with lorne sausage, Stornoway black pudding and a fried egg. It arrives with two of both, which really throws down the gauntlet in the consumption department. Undaunted, I open my mouth like a python, and take a bite, eyeing the men next door with undisguised triumph. They look horrified. I feel the warm caress of egg yolk on my top – but I have no regrets.

The lorne sausage is interesting – salty, like a pork sausage, yet distinctly beefy too, like a fatty, finely ground burger – the Stornoway black pudding crisp, rich and sweet, and the egg perfect. My only complaint is the bun, which I suspect to be a brioche. Brioche is too soft and sweet to contain anything wet, whether it’s a burger with sauce or an egg yolk, and this is a cause I am prepared to die for (if really pressed).

After I’ve rinsed the yolk from my jersey in the loos in the company of a disapproving lady golfer reapplying her lipstick, Harry drops us off in Perth, a mere 60 or so kilometres from St Andrews, taking our bags with her in the car. Apart from a big climb at the beginning to put Jay – who claims not to have been out much over the winter, but then starts talking about running and cold-water swimming in a way that suggests he’s got triathlons in his sights – through his paces, it’s a pleasantly flat but rarely dull ride, mostly along the shores of the Dee.

Crossing the 2.2km-long Tay Bridge, a strangely unsettling experience, we find ourselves in the Kingdom of Fife, as my brother-in-law insists on referring to it, where the sun is out, the hedges high and the skies big in the way you only find on the east coast. I see a kestrel, hanging still above us, suddenly plummet into a field of whispering barley. It’s all perfectly lovely, but hot work, and by the time we reach our Airbnb in St Andrews, I’m ready for a cold pint. Five hours later, I fall into a bunker on the Old Course on the

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.