Leftovers

My twelve year old had an ice cream maker for Christmas.
Which means the diet is on hold because he'd use it every day if he could. And it makes 2 litres at a time. Using a LOT of double cream.
This morning he's strayed from the recipe book and grated a popping candy chocolate orange into the vanilla mixture, then added chopped up Jaffa cakes and maltesers.
We're calling it "leftover chocolate at Christmas ice cream".
Catchy.

Wooly thoughts

I'm away from the tea rooms physically but not mentally.
I am planning a change to the conservatory to make it different from the main tea room but am struggling to work out the best way to do it.  New and differently coloured table cloths are essential but I'd also like to paint all the chairs white.
35 of them.
That could be a labour of love.
The kitchen's also having a revamp after Christmas.
In other news we have two rams wintering in our garden.
Richard and Roger.
Currently they're doing their best to shelter under a tree.

Wind in the Willow

We have a large willow in the garden.
It has buds on it already.
But they won't come to anything because this afternoon the wind blew it over.
Tore its roots out of the ground and made a right mess.
A nice man called Steve came with a JCB and pushed it off the drive.
A shame it's gone.
My twelve year old was philosophical: "circle of life, Mum, circle of life" was all he said.
Hakuna matata.

IF only

A few months ago a couple came in who were trying the IF diet - intermittent fasting. They had drinks, looked longingly at the cake display and then bought some carrot cake to take away because the following day they were allowed to eat whatever they liked.
I thought them mad.
And then found that this IF diet thing is everywhere. Everyone is talking about it. Everyone is writing about it. *
So. I read stuff about it.
I've never dieted before but have decided to try it and have been fasting two days a week for the past fortnight. Not proper fasting. I'm allowed a whopping 500 calories a day. 
Which is nothing.
They say it'll not only help me to lose weight but has two other benefits.
One is to improve brain function.
I've already forgotten the other one.
The worst thing about the process is the side effect. Proper grumpiness. Especially when I'm dishing up the rest of the family's food in the evening.


*for "everyone" read "some people"

Done

Not dusted yet. That happens tomorrow when we put all the china, glass, teapots, cloths, cutlery, aprons away, when we defrost the fridges and freezers and drain the water, when we bring all the outside chairs and tables inside. We are officially closed until 27th March 2013.
Today has been utterly marvellous. Not particularly busy but almost everyone who walked through the door was a familiar face who'd come because it's our last day of the year.
One couple even brought me flowers.
I could have cried but I was torn between being happy that this challenging, wet season is over and sad that I won't be seeing these folks for almost 5 months. They wished me a Happy Christmas as they left.

We didn't break any records in 2012.
But we certainly learned a lot.
And I have plans for the closed season....

Sowing the seeds.

Message in the visitors' book on Friday|:
"Got engaged today in the gardens"

The couple in question had arranged to meet some of their family at the tearooms and he asked her to marry him just before they came inside. She had flowers and everything. And then they all had proper Afternoon Tea and took photos. When I asked her if it was a surprise she nodded, and then her eyes filled up with tears. "I'm off again" she said. And that just made me well up too....

Sobering thought

Spent the weekend in Stockholm. I'd committed to a girls' weekend away when I thought the tea rooms would have closed for the season. Do I sound defensive?
In fact we don't close until Sunday (a quirk of half terms around here - some were last week, some this) so I'm in that strange phase of trying to make sure we have enough of everything, but not too much.
Went in yesterday morning and made a batch of chocolate Cobweb Cakes as it was properly Halloween. Not a single one remains. Very pleasing.

My jewellery selling friend, Fi rang yesterday. She's going to come on Friday to set up a table of goodies to sell. We did it last year and it went really well so fingers crossed for a repeat performance.

In Stockholm a glass of wine was £10.
Must sell more tea.

Figures

An interesting conundrum today.
A lady was choosing her cake. Sometimes people ask my opinion, which I'm happy to give. Trouble is I only stock cakes I like, so I find it very difficult to rate one against the other. But this lady had a different question. Which, out of Millionaire's Shortbread and the pecan chocolate brownie, was the least fattening?
No clue.
Nor any desire to know.
They're both delicious and I would hate either to be judged on calorific value alone.
So I stared blankly.
She went for the brownie. I suggested she could eat half and take the rest home for later.
Her turn to stare. That, she said, would mean she'd have to share it with her husband.
Which was not going to happen.

One of the last customers today was an older man wearing sunglasses. He took them off to look at the cakes but put them back on again to make his way to his table.
He told me that 3 months ago he fell asleep while a passenger in a car and when he woke up he'd not only lost the peripheral vision on one side but that sunlight hurt his eyes. I stood in from of him and slightly to the side: "I can only see half of your nose," he said.  Which is plenty from my point of view.
He's hopeful that his sight will get sorted but in the meantime he has to teach his brain how to read in an entirely different way. And of course he can't drive any more.
One of the gardeners at the Court detached his retina a couple of months ago and is on a slow road back to health, desperate to be back at work.
Mental note to appreciate my sight and to stop complaining that, as a well-over-forty year old, I can't stray far from my reading specs.
Another mental note that for some people 2012 was not all about the Olympics, the Jubilee and the rain. Other things go on in people's lives.

Have bought first pumpkin for soup. £3. I think they're more expensive than last year.
But then again, what isn't?

Wag

Another step into the unknown today - we delivered lunch for 9 to the English Heritage Visitors Centre. Sandwiches, cakes and scones. The 9 were having a meeting in a dark room. The windows had been blacked out with cloth in readiness for the Halloween Trail which starts this weekend. I suppose that means I should prepare for Witches' Brew soup (spiced pumpkin) season.

At lunchtime three people came with a little dog and sat in the conservatory. They ordered jacket potatoes and tea.
As they left one of the gentlemen took me to one side:
"We had a mishap with the teapot," he said, "I couldn't pour the hot water into it properly so I held it to the side of the table. I'm afraid I've spilled water on the floor."
I nodded and said that some of our teapots are tricky little things. I'd get it cleared up.
I was amazed he was going to so much trouble to tell me of a little water spillage.
"I wanted you to know that it was me," he added, "not the dog. It really is just water, I assure you."

Amo amas a matter of dignity.

A busy Friday when I was called away from a fundraising curry lunch to deal with a plethora of panini orders.
A good Saturday. Those cyclists again (drug free) who arrived en masse for teacakes and tea.

A lovely Sunday.
It started crisp and cold with a dog called Jet and the two people who brought her and who could see their own breath inside the conservatory. They needed hot chocolate.
Customers of the day were the pair who hadn't seen the Court since he drew up the archeological plans in 1981. They had Afternoon Tea. The scones come with jam and cream and they choose their cake. Soon after we'd delivered the cake stand she was back at the counter: "I know it's infra dig," she said, "but may I have some butter with my scone?"
I have looked up "infra dig" not being entirely sure of its meaning.
It means something which is below what is thought of as socially acceptable. Or undignified.

One might say my recent appearance on The Food Hospital holding a pot of urine and standing next to a man dressed as an asparagus spear is the very essence of infra dig. 

Not her cup of tea

It rained.
But it wasn't a wash out.
Among those who came was a couple who brought their two dogs. She took them into the conservatory while he ordered.
He asked for coffees - an americano for him and a latte for her. Soup for him. And then two leek, mushroom and gruyere quiches. One for each of them. Very straightforward.
He left the counter and went to join her.
But only briefly because soon she was at the counter:
"My husband ordered me a latte," she said, " but I'd like tea.  And he ordered me quiche and I don't want that". She scanned the menu and chose a bacon, Brie and cranberry panini.

Hard habit to break

A family came in recently - daughter in her 20s/30s and her parents.
Dad asked if the fruit cake is moist (tick) then if the apple cake is moist (tick,tick). Then while he was making up his mind his daughter asked about gluten free cake.
We ran through our three options but unfortunately she doesn't like banana, lemon and courgette nor orange, carrot and sultana. She had an ice cream.
Dad then asked if he could SEE the apple cake up close. When we put it on the counter he stuck out his hand to give it a squeeze....
We suggested he shouldn't actually touch it.
"But I might buy it" he said. We repeated that we didn't think he should feel the cake in case he didn't buy it.
His wife was evidently a little put out: "No-one's ever said no to us before." she said.



They did eventually choose (carrot please, but not an end piece).
And as they left they called out: "lovely cake, thank you".

Special delivery

A great weekend. The sun shone and it was crisp and cold - perfect October days - which meant people came out for soup and panini and jacket potatoes and lots of scones (a relief since I thought I'd seriously over-ordered cream).
The first person in today brought us a gift. She reversed her soft-top car down to the door. Out of the back seat she hauled a big (and I really mean big) thing in a pot.
She had 'phoned a few days earlier: could we take her avocado plant which she'd grown from a stone? It was now too big for her house and was bent over and extending horizontally.  She wasn't kidding.
We've put it in the conservatory. Next to the arum lilies. In the opposite corner to the fig tree. They'll all Winter together like green buddies. Big green buddies.

At lunchtime we found a floral bag which had been left on a chair in the garden. In it were, among other things, a wallet and a mobile 'phone. In her contacts we found a home number in Bolton some 120 miles away.
Late this afternoon the lady in question returned our call. From Bolton. She hadn't realised she'd lost her bag until she heard our message on her answer phone.
Off  to the Post Office in the morning to reunite them.

Essential reading

I seriously doubt that I shall ever have a week like this one again.

Wednesday night on the telly holding up a urine sample. 

Today the publication of Essentials magazine's November issue in which, on page 39, I tell the story of the woman who did a wee in the garden. There's a lot more in the Essentials article than just the pee tale. Honest. Including photos of the tearoom. 

Had publication date been later I might have squeezed in the story of the knicker discovery (8th Sept- Bocker Glory).
Or am I becoming too niche? 

Bjork day II

We were busy today but this afternoon it was strangely quiet.
We didn't lack customers.
But the people who came whispered to each other. There was no raucous laughter. No hubbub.
No cheerfulness (apart from the two women who raved about the cheese scones).
And no tips.
There was a conspiratorial couple of ladies who said they'd have cake after their lunch "because it was a bad day".

And no one, it seemed, recognised me after my primetime appearance on Channel 4 last night.

Today a man brought his mum all the way from Saffron Walden in Essex because she wanted to see Witley Court. I did my usual bullying to make sure they also saw the Church. 
Which they loved.
Of course.
Then they asked what they should do tomorrow? Where else should they visit round here?
I gave them a few ideas but really I should have lots of answers. Leaflets even.
Trouble is I don't go anywhere else...
Something else for the Winter months?

Saw myself on telly this evening. Looking at the footage I can't understand how I managed to get so sunburnt that day.
I was, after all, wearing a cardigan...

Urine luck

Channel 4
Tonight
8pm
The Food Hospital
A field, 30 pee samples and me cooking asparagus.

Full steam ahead

We are in unchartered waters.
The tea rooms have always closed during October weekdays, only opening at weekends (excepting the half term week).
A few weeks ago I laughingly said that we'd stay open throughout October because the weather couldn't possibly be as poor as April's was.

It's raining.

On a more positive note we have a party booked in for lunch today and I seem to remember from the last time this group came that they're cake lovers....

She cried more, more, more

Thank you, Mr Forecaster.
He told everyone that if they were going to go out this weekend they should go on Saturday because it would be sunny.
And they obeyed.
And so we had one of those lovely busy days when lunchtimers went for soup and jacket potatoes. Oh and panini.

Of course because Mr Forecaster told everyone to go out on Saturday we may have a very quiet day on Sunday. If everyone toes the line.
Let's hope there are some rebels out there.

Can't get used to losing you

Very sad news that Andy Williams has died.
I had the pleasure of meeting him once a few years ago when he was doing a round of promotional interviews. He was utterly charming.
He made a great impression by being one of only two people ever to tell me that I'm pretty.

I married the other one.

Show time

Back in July (17th) I steamed a hundred plus spears of asparagus for the Channel 4 programme The Food Hospital. In a Worcestershire field. 
I was also talked into peeing in a pot in a portaloo (noone can argue that I don't attempt alliteration) with other 'volunteers'.
The result of this foray into tv will be shown on Weds 3rd October at 8pm.
Is it appropriate to gird my loins?

Bjork day

So that's it. We've said goodbye to the third of our three girls who are off to take up their university places. One went to Cardiff last week and the other two are heading for Bristol and Cambridge. I am hoping they'll come back to us during their holidays next season. But I shall not hold my breath. They are, after all, in their late teens and there may be other offers...

Today it rained. And it was oh so quiet. 

Sauce

Mary's made one of her special soups which we've called Mellow Fruitfulness. This tells you nothing about it so there are obvious questions from those wanting a bowl. One lady asked and I told her that it was a rich tomato and autumn veg. Very warming and hearty. 
She asked about the tomato content. Her stomach wasn't up to much tomato, she said. I gave her a little to try and she said she had better go for the homecooked ham and cheddar panini instead. Her two companions had the soup.
Seconds after I'd taken out her lunch she was back at the counter.
Asking for ketchup.


On Monday a man came to the counter and announced that he'd come to collect his wife's knickers.
He was joking of course. But so nice to know that he'd read the blog....

Diet Another Day

This afternoon a lady asked for lemon with her tea. 
She said she loved lemon so instead of the usual two slices I gave her four - pretty much half the fruit. A few minutes later she asked if she could buy a whole lemon. Her husband squeezed it all into her tea. Apparently she eats a whole lemon every day as others might eat an orange. 
"Do you get lots of strange people like us in here?" he asked.

Another couple took a table in the conservatory. The husband came to the counter to order.

"Two teas please," he said. Then, looking at the cakes, added: "we can't have anything else because it's Tuesday."

He told me he's following an "alternate day diet" he'd seen on the tv. The idea is that they eat very little on a Tuesday and Thursday - 600 calories apparently is what they manage on. But just on those two days.

I took their teas to their table. 

His wife asked me to wrap up a piece of carrot cake to take away.  

"For tomorrow" she said. 

You say tomato

Busy and lovely today but my favourite customer was a three year old boy.
His dad had ordered him a half sandwich of ham. Our sandwiches are served with a salad garnish and a few crisps. I asked if he'd enjoyed it.
"Yes," he said. "But it had pineapple."
His dad interrupted and told him it was tomato.
"Don't like Momato" he said, shaking his head sadly. And eating his crisps.

T leaf

I have a set of wooden scrabble tiles and holders which we use to name items on the counter.
One says "SHORTBREAD" and sits in front of an old sweet jar full of bags of handmade biscuits. One says "TIPS" and sits hopefully in front of a china pin tray. The third says "FUDGE". It's not an order.

People inevitably like to play around with the tiles. They have most fun with TIPS and we don't mind at all because a) that's what they're there for and b) they usually feel obliged to drop in some change once they've had their way with the letters.
This afternoon it was noted that the "P" from TIPS had migrated. We now had SHORPBREAD and TIS.
But this also meant that SHORPBREAD was missing a T. 
Of all things to go missing in a tea room.
The T was discovered in late afternoon under a basket of cards close to the TIS. 
I think I can work out what someone was trying to do....

A Merry Band

A lovely day with a right mix of customers.
When I arrived to open up a group of 20+ were parking their cars. They set off on a 2 and a half hour walk and came to us for lunch. All very appreciative. All sat in the garden.
First visitors included several pairs of ladies for coffee and chat and a group of  3 mums with 4 toddlers after their swimming lesson.
A couple from Kent asked for cheese with their fruit scones instead of jam and cream.
Two Chinese teenagers studying at Birmingham University ordered coffee and lunch and confirmed that my Chinese sign does indeed say Garden Tea Rooms. Something of a relief since it could say anything... And it was doubly confirmed later this afternoon by a Chinese couple living here and their friend visiting from Beijing. 
A minibus in the Court was carrying either Dutch or Finnish visitors, depending on who you asked.
Four very pretty young women in floaty dresses had tea and cake after a University photo shoot.

Customers of the day, though, were the two women who ordered tea and cake, then spotted the Afternoon Tea deal (tea for two, two scones with jam and cream, two cakes for £10) and chose that instead. 
When it was delivered to the table on a tiered cake stand and mismatched china plates they said they were very pleased with their decision.  
But one of them was overheard to say that she hoped her gastric band wouldn't burst.

Not in its element.

We've had another mystery shopper report delivered. This one is from late July. All good. We greeted them with a smile, served things at the right temperature and very quickly (phew) and "the staff looked clean and hygienic".  The place, they added, felt comfortable and relaxing.
They also commented that we don't wear name badges. Should we?

Water heater news changes daily. It's working, then it isn't. It's had the spare part and is heating water again. Then it isn't. This morning I'd have written that the new something-board has been fitted by the doc and we're back to normal but I've just been told that the new board-thingy is flashing up FAULT again.
So.
Square one it is then.

T. Witts

Extraordinarily busy.
There were eight of us working today and we were flat out from 11.30 until the sign came in at 5.
At the start of the day the fridges groaned with four-pinters of milk but of course it wasn't enough. Why is it never enough?
There was just one message left in the visitors book.
In huge capitals was written: HAVE HAD A VERY GOOD DAY.
It was written by T. Watts.
Although Mr or Mrs Watts had omitted the full stop after their initial.

Bocker Glory

The day was forecast fine but started with a chill in the air.
The first person through the door was a lady who was feeling the cold and ordered soup. Courgette and pea. At half past ten.  A record we think.
It was village fete day when usually we take a hit and go quiet in the afternoon. Not today though. Today lunch went on and on. Afternoon Tea left the cake display needing several refills. The understudy water heater acted admirably and saw us through one of the busiest days of our season.

In mid afternoon during a short lull I was called over to the front of the counter by Nancie. She tilted her head down. Pointing with her eyebrow. Sort of. And she had a strange look on her face. I looked down. On the floor of the tea room was a large pair of black knickers.
I'm going to write that again because I still can't quite believe it.
On the floor of the tea room was a large pair of black knickers.
Primark. Size 16-18.

Now we have a lot of lost property. Walking sticks, jackets, mobile phones, cameras, hats. With the clothing we generally hang it on the coat hooks for the owner to spot.

We didn't do that with the knickers.
But we did look at everyone sideways as they sipped their tea.

Two's company.

We have lots of unsolicited 'phone calls.

Really. Lots of them.

At least four every day either from people from energy companies or telephone companies who always ask us how we are and we want to say, "it's lunchtime, we're BUSY, how are you?". There's at least one a week asking if I want to sell the business.

Add in those awful recorded 'phone calls about PPI or banks or accidents we may or may not have had and we're forever answering the 'phone and groaning.

Sometimes, though, they make us laugh.

Last week we had one asking if we wanted to merge with another company. Nancie told them I was busy, which I was, and could they call back (great).  We spent the rest of the afternoon deciding who we'd like to merge with? Because clearly we'd be able to choose.

John Lewis came out top.

But a discount in M&S would be handy too. It's such a tricky decision.

Am waiting for them to call back to discuss terms.

The faucet saga

This morning the water heater stopped working again.
Doctor came again.
Tutted a bit.
He says he has two more things to try.
The forecast for the weekend is really good which means we'll need lots of hot water.
Will I have to buy another?

Life is Sweet

What a great day.
The water heater is saved.
It's heating water and everything.
It's smiling back at me with the word "ready" lit up.
Thank you to the water heater doctor who turned into a surgeon overnight.

Not so green tea.

News on the water heater isn't really awful. Yet.
The doctor thinks he can save it. He's ordered a part (part =£4) which will be delivered tomorrow (delivery = £12.50). If it's the right part then we can stop boiling kettles and sapping the planet's energy.
If it's not then we may need a second opinion.

Today two ladies in their twenties had our special Afternoon Tea for Two. They sat at a table in the garden and ate their cake x 2 and scones x 2 and drank their tea for two.
Then they moved tables and ordered the same thing again.
My kind of people.

In hot water (or rather..)

The water heater started complaining this morning.
And then at lunchtime it went on strike.
The back-up water heater clearly doesn't like being an understudy and refused to go on when it was called. I shall be having words with it tomorrow. Words like team. And let down. And disappointment. 
And so today we boiled kettles to fill the teapots and fortunately (?) we weren't too busy.
The water-heater doctor arrived as I was leaving.  
I fear it won't be good news...

Warm comfort

We have some strange requests.
Tuna and chilli jacket potatoes.
Ham salads without the salad.
Skinny latte and the biggest piece of chocolate cake we have.
Yesterday we were asked for hot water.
Or rather we were asked if we would fill a lady's hot water bottle.
She'd come straight from the dentist after having a tooth out.
She sat smiling, cradling the hwb to her cheek.
I hope cake didn't have anything to do with the extraction....

Home forts from abroad

In late afternoon a group of German students came in. They drank cappuccinos (cappuccini?) and ate coffee and walnut cake and Tyrells crisps.
Then their teachers arrived and drank coffee and ate scones.
No one ordered tea.
Two of the girls left a message in the visitors' book surrounded by hearts: Sweet garden and we love your castle.

Them apples

Bank Holiday Monday went well.
Apart from the fact that we ran out of panini in the first fifteen minutes.
Poorer weather didn't affect us too much because of the Art & Craft Exhibition running in the Church. Thank goodness.
I had a confusing conversation with a man who'd just finished a piece of apple cake. He asked me if there was jam in it. I checked what he'd had. No. No jam.
His daughter giggled and said he was trying to get the recipe out of me.
"I'm 90," he said, "and I make cakes just for myself so I want to know if it's real apples in there or apple jam." The penny started falling...No. The apples are Worcestershire ones. No jam involved. 
He wanted more.
Do you cook them before they go in?
I explained that the cakes were made by Angela in Abberley and there's no way she'd tell me her recipe but I'd guess they went in raw.
He took her card and is going to call her to beg her method.
I don't fancy his chances.

Bread and Whine

That was the busiest day of the season (so far?).

Off to bed to recharge for Bank Holiday Monday. Although the forecast looks really dodgy.
Whatever happens we won't be serving many panini tomorrow. I thought I'd ordered enough for three days (our bakers aren't working Bank Hols) but we only have four left.

My feet ache.

In stock

We are bursting at the seams with cake and milk and cream and strawberries. In the last week I've had dozens of deliveries. We are not going to run out of local apple juice. We shall have enough jacket spuds. I've cooked two hams today. Phil the cheese has brought me SIX half moons of his Elgar Mature for the ploughmans.
The fridges are working overtime.
This weekend is the last Bank Hol of our season and we have to be prepared despite what the weather people say. There's an art and craft exhibition in the Church all weekend which will draw a crowd.
Am hoping the crowd members will be desperate for a cuppa.
I also have a new gluten and dairy free cake with which to tempt them. It's Lemon and Courgette and crumbs it's bloomin' good. I accidentally cut a piece so badly today that I had to eat it.
Strange how these accidents occur.

Someone's written in the visitors' book: "try the gluten free cake even if you don't need to".

This Is Your Life. Parts I and II

Another busy one despite an astonishing downpour late morning.
It was panini-central again - the kind of day when i think it would be useful to have a larger panini machine. Or a second one.
Yesterday I'd been surprised when my former boss and his wife turned up on the way home to London "from seeing Everton beat Man United". 
Today a woman approached the counter and called me Gillian which means one of two things. Either she knows my Dad (who only ever calls me by my full name) or she was from my school days before I took to introducing myself as Gill. I know it's only marginally better but it's all in the margins.
Anyway.
Standing before me was my high school PE teacher. The woman who 30 years ago wrote on my school report that I was very "timid" on the hockey field. A true understatement since I never turned up for hockey. I had a piano lesson instead (in which I was equally timid. Or bored).
Anyway.
She had a cappuccino and a piece of millionaire's shortbread and went and sat outside in the sunshine. 
We chatted for ages and as she left I told her I was surprised she could remember me given how rubbish I was at all sport and physical education.
She said she remembered me because I was "effervescent".
Wow, I thought, and went back into the kitchen to tell Freda.
"Effervescent," said Freda, "What? Like Andrews liver salts?"

No wonder she remembered me if I had the same effect. 

Tea and Jerusalem

This has been WI week.
On Monday we hosted a tea party for the Great Witley group as well as the Salwarpe members. Two separate groups in the same conservatory.
Then yesterday Fernhill Heath WI  managed to take their  tea and scones outside.
All  using the china teacups and saucers (and tea plates)  I gathered for the wedding last year.
It made me quite nervous serving afternoon tea to the queens of cake.
We got away with it though.

Today should have been quiet. It poured with rain.
Shows what I know.

Food. But not fast.

Such a busy one.
And unexpected. The forecast I'd seen had not been promising.
So when the rush came and didn't let up we just kept our heads down and worked through it. Order after order - and there were only four of us. One took orders for teas, coffees, sandwiches, jacket potatoes, toasted teacakes, cake, quiche, salads, one made the lunches, one cleared and washed up and one filled and took out trays. The cake display had only three items left in it by the end of the day.
We tried to warn everyone that it might take us longer than usual to get stuff to them. Most didn't mind a bit. They'd found a table in the garden and were soaking up the sun for the afternoon.
But one lady didn't like the wait. And she told me so, with a couple at the next table joining in for good measure. I gave her back her money and apologised. She went on her way with her friend.
But it was another couple who reduced me to tears.
They'd witnessed the complaint while waiting for their own lunch.
When they'd eaten and were preparing to leave they pressed a five pound note into my hand:
"We can see how hard you've all been working," they said, "and we'll certainly be back. We love it here."
I cried.

Later this afternoon the friend of the complainer rang the tea rooms to apologise.
She told us she couldn't wait to get home to call.

There are some truly lovely people in this world.  Thank you.

Bloomin' obvious

Over the Winter I should really read a gardening book.
I can only blag my way through so much of the conservatory for so long.
Which is currently looking like a jungle because the passion flower's gone completely bonkers. It's hanging down over tables and curling itself round every other plant, and dropping closed flowers all over the place.  
If someone asks about a plant I haven't a clue about I do that thing where I say "ooh not sure, but look over there - have you seen the fig tree/kiwi/bonkers passion flower?" I caught myself this week telling someone how strange that the wisteria was coming back into bloom...   
Yesterday I was asked what the orange flower in the garden is. Not a scooby of an idea. But it's pretty. I know now (asked the ma-in-law) it's Montbretia and the fact that I know it means noone else will ask until I've forgotten the name again.
So I'd just got to grips with Montbretia when a woman asked about the red flowering plant in the conservatory. Ah good. I know that one. So I told her. But she wasn't placated. She wanted to know how to spell it. Thank goodness for the in-laws again.
It's Abutilon.

A shade less naughty.

A smashing day when the staff made me laugh as much as the customers.
My personal highlight was hearing Jennifer ask Nancie if she'd read "that forty shades of grey"?
We reckon she must have the abridged version.

Ash, beech, oak, sycamore, horse chestnut

Another glorious day yesterday. The parasols are no longer functioning as umbrellas. We were busy but not  so busy that I didn't have chance for a few conversations in the garden.
One man asked about opening hours and days and whether they could take a different route back to the car park and when I answered all his questions proclaimed me to be the fount of all knowledge. Only where the tea rooms and car park location is concerned. Not a huge specialist subject.
When I next came out he had a trickier one - was the tree in front of him a eucalyptus?
Erm. I said. I always thought it was a silver birch? Not one of the five trees I learnt in primary school but still  the easiest to identify. But I checked with others in the know and went back to tell him it was indeed a silver birch.  He now thinks I'm brain of Britain.
It was also baby day. We had a ten week old, a 13 week old and a 14 week old join us at different times.
I know a lot about one of them.
His mother, holding him, told her group of friends: "He's been constipated for days." One of them pointed to her arm where something was - well - dripping, and replied: "well I don't think he is now."

Fat chance

Unlike Mo and Jess E the tearooms pace has slowed. We've had some very busy lunchtimes even when the forecast has been poor but then the velodrome and Eton Dorney call and cake is pushed unceremoniously into mouths and we're left to wash the crumbs from plates and wait for the highlights in the evening.  
So into the Olympics am I that I've bought some Bradley Wiggins stamps.
The legacy thing is working too.
Will fudge-eating be included in Rio cos I think I could certainly medal?

A woman's prerogative?

Pork pie ploughmans day.
We make it on the premises every now and then and serve it as a special.
Today it proved as popular as ever.
One order was for three of them.
Two women had placed the order but when they returned to the man in the garden he became agitated. He didn't want a pork pie ploughmans. He didn't know what he wanted. He couldn't decide. He didn't know what there was. He didn't get the menu. I went out and told him exactly what was available. His wife raised her eyebrows and shook her head.
In the end he decided on a bacon, Brie and cranberry panini and thanked me for my attention.
He cleared his plate.
His wife and their friend raved about the pork pie.
Then he told me he had a nice half bottle of red at home which would go nicely with a slice of pork pie....could he buy some to take home?

Taking stock.

Er. Like wow.
That was a pretty busy day. And such a hot one.
My feet are crying.
We ran out of panini and ham and our home made pork pie. We came close to running out of tomatoes and cheese. As soon as the quiche was delivered I ordered more.
For the second day running I have taken a barrel load of glass bottles for recycling and a small forest of cardboard boxes. The recycling skips at the village hall now need emptying.
Tomorrow, not only is the weather forecast even better but we have a coach party of 39 booked in for lunch.
Eek.

Prioriteas

Message in the visitors' book:
"Cream teas and tea rooms are my life. Thank you."

Beams

SUNSHINE.
A marvellously sunny weekend.
I have changed the Wimbledon cake recipe slightly and transformed it into Witley Sunshine Cake. It has locally produced strawberries, raspberries and cream in it, plus orange zest and passion fruit which aren't local but which I bought from a local supermarket. I am aware that this doesn't count.
Only trouble is one isn't enough and it had gone by lunchtime.
Folks were in the mood for cake and panini today.
I'm in the mood for soaking my feet.

Two legs and a tray - bad.

This morning a couple were waiting at the counter as I took a tray of coffee into the garden. A black and white dog - collie-ish - was tethered to a vacant table outside and the dog sat quietly waiting for the couple to return.
When I took their order they told me that their dog didn't like waitresses or waiters. They didn't know why. She always barked at them.
I was sure I would be different. I like dogs. I have a dog. Dogs like me.
But not this one.
As soon as I went out carrying their tray she went bonkers. A high pitched painful sort of a barking. Continuous until I walked away leaving their lunch on the table.
This afternoon they came back for tea. I didn't deliver the tray this time. Sue did. I just listened for the barking to start....and it did.

All things must pass

I have spent today outside.
Getting sunburnt down the left side of my neck.
Yes I was in England.
I cooked asparagus in a Worcestershire asparagus field for a tv programme called The Food Hospital which'll be shown on Channel 4 sometime in September.
I also peed in a sample pot.
Twice.
Before eating the asparagus and afterwards.
And held up said pot for the cameras to see.
Strange way to pass a few hours.
I expect I shall never have a day like it.

On the more normal side of things we made sandwiches and cake for the forty volunteers and tv crew. And I came home laden with what must be the last of the British asparagus for this year.

He who should not be named....

Last month my son went on a school trip to China (we used to go the Cotswold Wildlife Park) and found out that the Chinese students choose an English name for themselves. Presumably to make life easier for us.
This name can be anything they like.
And they can be very creative.
The boy my son partnered is called Bobby. Others, though, are called Snort, Sheep, Banana and there's a boy who came last year called Lucy.
While they were being hosted at the school in China the group held a lesson in English - a few of the English guys taught a few Chinese students our National Anthem and then played a game with them.
One boy stepped forward to take part.
"What's your name?" they asked him.
He gave his true name and then said: "but my English name is Voldemort."

Crumbs

A big weekend. On Saturday I met a bride and groom who'd like a wedding party in the garden next September. Then we hosted High Tea for the Academy Chamber Orchestra - 40 young musicians who were performing in the Church that evening. Then 3-course concert suppers for concert goers.
Yesterday I took the day off to show our Chinese exchange student around.
It was a glorious day and a very busy one. One of those days that no matter how much cake you think you'll need you always end up with a display cabinet that looks sad. I came home to two pieces of pecan & chocolate brownie, three pieces of fruit cake and a few slices of chocolate cake.
I'm certainly not complaining (but leave me one piece of coffee and walnut next time please). These days have been fewer and further between than last year.

Whole in one.

We were wonderfully busy at lunchtime. We had a group of 14 and another of 7 booked in and then a whole set of people on a tour of the Court came in for lunch.
All this despite the rain.
We finished a Wimbledon cake during lunch so when it quietened down this afternoon I filled another with cream and strawberries and passion fruit for the cake display.
In came a young, dishy Australian farmer.
He pointed to the cake.
"Can I buy that whole thing?"
Erm yes if he wanted to...
"Do you have a box?"
Oh. He was serious.

I found a box.

Comedy Duo

I met the most wonderful couple from South Wales today.
When she claimed to be eighty he chastised her: "Get away," he said, "I'm eighty. You've got another 3 weeks to go yet."
"It's our diamond wedding later this year." she said.
I congratulated her but she told me not to be hasty, "I might dump him before we get there. He's a Midlander and I only married him cos no Welshman asked me."

All this was while we walked up to the Church. She, Mary Minty, is a historian. The Church wasn't on their agenda, just the Court. So when they had lunch with us I bullied them into going up there. She walked slowly on two sticks: "you'll never guess how I came to be on sticks," she said, "I did my back in in the gym." I asked if anything could be done? "Well," she said, "they've offered me an operation. But that would leave me doubly incontinent. And I want to keep that to look forward to for when I'm older."

We reached the Church and I opened the door.
Their mouths gaped. Properly.
Then she smiled.
Exactly like a child at Christmas.
And she hugged me.

Camp damp

It's somehow reassuring that there are so many groups of enthusiasts in this country. We have lots of U3A parties (university of the 3rd age) who are either archeology folks, or garden peeps or architecture bods.
Last year we had a huge group of touring caravaners.
We have mystery tours run by coach companies - last week two men arrived a little late but ahead of the main group: "We're on a mystery tour," they said, "so it took us a while to realise the driver was lost".
Today through the sound of the rain came the revving of engines.
Twenty vintage motorcycle enthusiasts from all over the country arrived for lunch and for a talk in the Church. They were drenched. One middle aged woman announced she was soaked through to her knickers. A man begged us not to take the napkin from the table we were clearing as it was the only dry thing he had.
They hung up their helmets and coats and gloves in the conservatory in the hope that they might dry. All they did was steam up the windows.
They left in their heavy wet clothes to ride back to their campsite.
Yes. Camping. From wet leathers to wet canvas.

Smashing

Comment from the visitors' book: Wimbledon cake was ace.

Like it.

TV gold.

The wedding canapés were a success. Thank goodness. We poured the champagne at the optimum moment (no mean feat for 150 guests) and managed to serve the mini pasties and red onion & Stilton tarts still warm, with us running back and forth between the Church and the tea rooms oven.

This afternoon a lady from The Food Hospital, a programme on Channel 4, came in to ask if I'd help out with a segment they're doing about asparagus.

Apparently I've said yes. So now on Tuesday I'm cooking asparagus in a field.
Surrounded by people who may or may not be persuaded to have their urine tested after eating it.

Floody Nora

This morning I went in early to bake another Wimbledon Cake and await the groom from tomorrow's wedding who was coming to talk about contingency plans. Or what we were going to do with all the canapés and bucks fizz we're going to serve outside if it pours with rain. So Mike arrived in a downpour. While he and I were throwing ideas around the downpour became torrential. I know this because the carpet grew wet. The rain came in under the doors. And it kept coming. And it kept raining until we could grow rice on the carpet. And still it rained.
I did what I could. I panicked.
I called in the cavalry who mopped and soaked up and hoovered up.
Then people started arriving for lunch with tales of flooded roads and shops.
By late afternoon everyone was sitting outside in the warm sunshine.
No sign of the paddy field.
It may have been one of those strange dreams...like when two nuns arrive at half past five and are turned away because we're closed. Ah yes. That happened today too.

Backhand slice

Today I got up early to make the Cake of the Week: Wimbledon Cake. Actually it will be cake of the fortnight. Or even longer if the rain sets in over SW19.
Cake includes strawberries and cream, passion fruit, orange zest. I keep trying out puns: shall I serve? like a slice? chalk flew up? Still working on that last one...

Paper

At lunchtime a large group of people arrived to celebrate.
It was our first anniversary.
A year since we hosted and catered a lovely, charming Afternoon Tea wedding in bright sunshine in a marquee in the garden. A year since we ferried Pimms and beer, tea and scones, crustless sandwiches and canapés, cakes, raspberries and strawberries, elderflower cordial to the music of a string quartet.
Ah it was delightful.
Our first anniversary also happened to be that of the Bride and Groom for whom 30+ people gathered as a surprise to mark the day.
When Mr and Mrs walked in the whole group broke into song - All you need is love.
Yes. They are for real.

Gamblin' Man

We had two football fans in last week.
One was a Wolves supporter, the other an Aston Villa man.
Mr Wolves was paying for the whole day out after a bet that his team would finish the season with more points than Villa.
It was a pretty close call.

Going Dutch

Two ladies from the Netherlands came in for an early lunch. They're staying in Stratford and touring around.
One of them lectures on Elizabeth I.
But that wasn't the most interesting thing about her.
Oh no.
The most interesting thing was that she ate her sandwich with a knife and fork.

Venus and Mars

Five men arrived together. They were walkers. Had maps on strings round their necks. The first one asked for a cappuccino and a tea cake and one by one they followed suit. Five of each. That'll do they said. The first man paid for everyone and said they'd sort it out later. They stayed about half an hour.
While they were downing their coffee five women arrived. They ordered separately and paid separately. There were three teas (two earl grey) and two americanos, one without milk. There was one scone (with jam and cream). They sat and chatted. There was another round of americanos. And one more tea. They stayed and chatted.
The men had sat in the conservatory.
The women chose the main tea room.
They didn't have a chance to see each other.
Should I try to run a speed dating morning?

Banking on the holiday

All the jubilee cakes have gone.
People often say the Queen does a lot for our economy.
Now I know what they mean.
Thank you ma'am.

Back to jacket potatoes and soup today.
And gallons of hot chocolate.
That's what the temperature drop does. Yesterday it was all egg mayonnaise or smoked salmon sandwiches and going outside to deliver them to tables in the garden.
It was the busiest day we've had this season.
So far. She says optimistically.

Fanfare

So as I deliver tea to her table she says: do I know you? You look familiar?
I said I didn't think so. There was an awkward pause which forced me to speak. I mentioned a handful of places I've lived in case one hit the mark.
She shook her head.
"No," she said, "I think you've just got a common face."

As old as you feel.

It's a big weekend coming up. And not just for Her Majesty.
On Saturday Abi and Mike are getting married and we're serving their guests canapés while they have their photos taken in the Court.
On Sunday The William Byrd Singers are performing in the Church and we're serving them all lunch.
For the four day weekend we're offering hampers to those who'd like to picnic in the Court but don't want to make the sandwiches.
 
And my dad's coming in to help clear tables and wash up.
That's always interesting.
He tells everyone: "not bad for an 86 year old, eh?".
He's 77.

Long may the hat stay on

A really lovely weekend. Lots of people, lots of sunshine, lots of laughter.
Hot. But we didn't dare complain in case April returned. We just drank lots of hot tea.

Soup was relegated but folks still wanted jacket potatoes which wrong footed me on Friday. I decided not to cook any. Didn't think they'd be wanted and didn't want the oven overheating us. I'm not making that mistake again.

We've had fab comments about the food, the scones, the garden.
A man told us: I am seventy years old and that's the best ham and cheese sandwich I've ever had.

More days like these please.

No vest required.

I had forgotten what it feels like.
To feel really warm.
To be really busy.
To need the fans on in the kitchen and the serving area.
To have almost* every customer sitting outside.
To raise the parasols over the tables.

We served SO many Lightwood cheddar ploughmans it became a bit of a production line. Freda made up the salads and added the king of cheeses. I was on filling ramekins: 1 with homemade coleslaw, 1 with pickle, 1 with silverskin onions. Then all that's left to fit onto the plate are the crisps and the cottage roll.
Light lunch? Pah.


*3 ladies chose the warm confines of the main tearoom for their Asparagus and Dolcelatte quiche.

Suspicious minds

Customer, pointing to her plate of Lightwood Cheddar ploughmans: Is that meat?
Me: That's our homemade coleslaw.
Customer: I can see pink in there (so raw meat then?)
Me: That's the red cabbage.

Today we have twelve cyclists booked in for lunch.
They're arriving by tandem.

PPPick up a Picnic

This is much better.
A great weekend of sunshine and visitors from all over including two Americans who asked if we had a "to-go box" when they couldn't finish all the cakes on their tiered stand. We had some grease proof paper, cling film and a box the ice cream comes in? Yes, that'll do.

I am plotting hampers for Jubilee weekend. English Heritage is promoting Witley Court as the ideal place to come and picnic so we're going to offer to do the hard work and all folks have to do is bring a rug. I'm hoping Julian, Dick, Anne, George and Timmy turn up.
And obviously the sun had better make an appearance.

It started as a slow but lovely day. People coming in twos and fours, chatting, eating, drinking. We always had something to do. But plenty of time to do it.
Then.
I looked out of the window in time to see a wave of pink lycra arriving.
Another peloton of cyclists, this time all female, had come all the way from Birmingham. They had soup and panini before grabbing their helmets and peddling off again in the rain.
Now I REALLY love cyclists.

Within wheels

I have decided that I love cyclists.
They have been utterly brilliant to us over the past few days.
To start with, both groups we've entertained recently came in to tell me days in advance that they would be coming.
And when they did turn up they ate. And ate. And ate. Because they can.
On Sunday one man had a Coke, a slice of banana, maple and pecan loaf and THREE pieces of millionaire's shortbread. There wasn't a spare ounce of flesh on him.
The next man had two scones with jam and cream and asked if I had any WD40 as he only had two gears. Whatever that meant. For some odd reason I do have a can of the stuff and got a big smile when I produced it.

Today fourteen cyclists arrived, filled the conservatory with Lycra and ate lunches which seemed mainly to involve tuna.
To those who've cycled down that bumpy path to fill up on tea and cake in this wet drought, I salute you.

Rain respite

It was back to normal yesterday. Sunshine, folks sitting outside, kids playing in the garden.
I could almost forget it's been raining were it not for the muddy tyre tracks the milk van left last week.
We had three separate sets of people from California. But they must be glad to see a bit/lot of rain, surely?

Some lovely exchanges this weekend:
A boy of about 7 with his family looked around and said: "this is quite old fashioned, isn't it?". His brother, older by about 2 years and clearly wise added: "and really nice".

Yesterday as we were closing up people were arriving for a recital in the Church. A man hurried in: "Bach has an effect on me," he said, "Can I use your loo?"

Go on

Walter was christened yesterday and we hosted the post service party - sandwiches, scones, lemon drizzle.
Thank goodness because otherwise the rain gave us very little to do.

A family who visit us once a month or so came for lunch.
Dad was wearing such a stunning coat (wool, plain back, pristine condition - looked brand new) that I commented. He opened up the coat to reveal a scarlet lining. Not the sort of thing a farmer from these parts might be expected to wear.
He smiled and said the coat had a story.
It had belonged to Harry Secombe.

Harry Secombe's coat. In MY tea rooms.
Made my day.

Gingerly

This drought we're in is horribly wet. So, in between serving the six customers the day brought, I made a ginger cake with black treacle, golden syrup and muscovado sugar. Not my personal favourite but I have been persuaded of the merits of ginger so I might try a stickier version. Trying out new cakes is the way I'm going to get through the rainy season. If the rain doesn't stop soon I'm going to need elastic waistbands.

Drizzly when wet

So we knew it would be quiet. The forecasters had made the UK look like a glass filling up with water. It rained. Boy did it rain. So I made lots of Lemon Drizzle cake, which made me very happy. Eleven people braved the weather. Eleven whole people. Eleven people more than I thought we'd see. The first two were from Oklahoma: "what are we gonna do? stay in the hotel? We're only here for two weeks." They told me about the addictive qualities of caffeine. There were two en route from London home to Liverpool. He asked if we had anything low carb. Erm no. And then had a scone with jam and cream. Two more en route from Herefordshire home to London. They had a full lunch. Thank goodness. Two men came in twice (I only counted them once). Tea and cake twice in a day. My kind of men.

What the Dickens?

This has been a weekend of firsts.
I had to explain to a family what a quiche is. Try it. It's tricky.  
An old gentleman asked if his teeth would be able to cope with our special panini.
Fortunately for us all they were.
We gave away 14 copies of A Tale of Two Cities having been chosen as a World Book Night Giver (ten more to give away tomorrow).

And yesterday some "lady" swiped a full bottle of hand wash from the ladies loos.
Must've thought it came free with her tea and scone.

  

Stars

One of those speculative 'phone calls that I love so much came today.

The young sounding girl asked to speak to the manager. Then:

"Do you want to sell your cafe? "

Erm. No thanks.

"Are your sure?"

Yes, I'm sure.

"Oh, ok then. Bye."

The other momentous event was the Environmental Health man turning up unexpectedly for an inspection.

He gave us Five wonderful stars again and bought two pieces of cake to take home.

It rained. A lot.

Which meant we had few visitors.

The upside was that we were able to have lovely conversations with them all.

Ho ho.

I made a joke today.
Not a great one, admittedly, and it was trounced this afternoon.
2 ladies ordered 2 filtered coffees, three men with them had 3 teas.
I delivered the order and asked which of the men would pour the tea.
"Philip" said the men, pointing at their friend.
I arranged the pot with the handle towards him.
"You can 'phillip' the cups" I said, inwardly groaning.

Later two regulars commented on how much they'd enjoyed their soup:
"although we were a little worried when we saw it was 'Nancies's pea and mint' " they said, "We weren't too sure what Nancie might have been drinking."

It's how we get through a long, busy Sunday.

If it weren't a dastardly plan then it could have been.

We put up a sign telling people that the conservatory would be closed from 1.30 for a private party. The High Tea birthday party of a wonderful 85 year old. No one believes he really is 85. He must have a portrait hidden in some attic somewhere.

Anyway, the sign prompted several people to ask for details about booking parties.

If I were cunning I'd put one up every week....

Tart

Tomorrow we have an 85th birthday tea at 2pm.

First coach party of the season on Sunday.

Lemon Bakewell will make its first appearance tomorrow.

My idea of heaven.

A question too far.

"Ham please" she said.

"Ham salad?"

"I don't like salad." she said

"Sandwich?"

"Do you do ham sandwiches, oh yes please" she said.

"The sandwich comes with a little salad on the side....would you prefer not to have it?"

"I'll have it," she said, "then I can put it in my sandwich."

O

K

Fun and Games

A couple from Ho Chi Minh City came this week and wanted to try everything.
And they kept saying "local" which was music to my ears.
They asked if I had heard of Vietnam, then ordered soup, made with locally grown asparagus, she had quiche, he had pork pie ploughmans (having first asked if he could have the pork without the pie) local apple juice and two pieces of cake. A lot of food, I said. No light lunch, she answered.
Half an hour later they sank back in their chairs and exhaled.
Then wrapped the cake up in napkins and took it away with them.
Yesterday we served a young couple from Vancouver.
Last week the Russians came.
Is this the Olympic effect come early?

When will I learn?

Note to self. For future Bank Holiday weekends with poor weather please remember that people STILL GO OUT. If it's cold they just eat and drink different stuff.
A much, much better day than expected given the dreariness of the forecast and the grey of the sky.
Still selling heaps of chilli for masses of jacket potatoes.
Came close to running out of milk due to the gallons of hot chocolate we were making.
The special panini have sold out so in the morning - Bank Holiday Monday - I have to trawl the stores for a replacement.
That's a nice predicament to be in.

Feeling Good

I have never known us sell so much chilli. We're making it daily now. One American lady who said she was very hungry ordered a jacket potato with a double-chilli filling.

We tried out our homemade pork pie ploughmans. It was more popular even than the Lightwood cheddar option and will certainly stay if we can make enough. The bacon, Brie and cranberry panini sold out so that's a winner too.

A Bank Holiday is an odd day to choose to try these things out. But I have been making some strange decisions recently.

Chilly

The heating went back on today. That chill in the air means most opted for soup and jacket potatoes. We had to make even more chilli yesterday to warm those cockles. Children were the only ones to brave the garden.

But Summer is nearly here. The "asparagus for sale" sign has gone up at one end of the village meaning that, joy of joys, it'll be our feature soup tomorrow and for the foreseeable weeks.
Pork pies are being made tomorrow in time to serve them as ploughmans for Easter.
Have just collected my compost bin prize. It looks like a green dalek. The lady who gave it to me said mine wasn't the only entry. And I believe her.

Want not.

And suddenly everyone is inside again after a week of soaking up the sun.

The Court is now properly open but we weren't run off our feet until lunchtime when it was a jacket potatoes and chilli day.

The news that I have won a compost bin in a competition to come up with an Eco motto* for the local library has not been met with the excitement I envisaged.

And yes, it was the first and only prize.

And no, I have no idea if anyone else entered.

*well read, and green.

Fruit picking

Yesterday we had two of the more unusual comments.
One man ordered a sandwich. Egg mayonnaise. He asked how we did them so we explained. Free range blah blah, boil blah blah, grate or mash etc (wondering how many different ways there are to make an egg mayo sarnie). When we'd finished he said: "so you don't poach the eggs, then?".

Towards the end of the day a man came in and asked me: "Are you the lady?"

I think the fruit cake issue is solved. A few more people need to try it but so far we've had a very favourable response to Sue from Bewdley's offering. It doesn't contain mixed peel which ticks my fruit cake box.

Hamstrung

We are fortunate to work in a very quiet, tranquil spot.
But when I opened up this morning things were a little too quiet.
The sort of quiet which means the fridges aren't working.
The trip switch had done its best to ruin our day so we sighed, chucked out stuff we couldn't be absolutely sure about including A WHOLE HAM* and cooked everything again from scratch.
Good job it wasn't a Bank Holiday.

*when I say "chucked out" I mean took home. We'll be eating ham in our house for a while.

One a penny.

Unbelievably busy for an opening weekend. It felt like high Summer and we even had to get the fans going in the kitchen. They don't usually come out of the cupboard til June.
Almost everyone sat outside and now that big fat twiggy shrub's been taken out you can actually see the full length of the garden. The down side to this is that lots more people chose to sit on the benches further down the garden - further for our aching feet to carry those trays.
A few people clung onto Lent promises despite the temptation of cake. One had a hot cross bun instead. Not really cake. Is it?

A right pane

A big day. Almost everything that would go through the dishwashers did. All the outdoor furniture was cleaned and taken...outdoors. We swept the conservatory and replaced all the tables and chairs in a new formation. Just to keep us interested. I took apart the cake display fridge to give it a good going over and boy did I. I rather cleverly managed to push the large sheet of glass from the top of it. Onto the floor. Into hundreds of pieces.
Just what I needed four days from opening.

Fudging

Ruby from Ruby's Kitchen has offered to supply me with her locally made fudge. I'll have to try it first (of course) but that raises an issue.
For this year's Lent I chose to give up eating between meals.
Which means if I'm going to try it then Ruby's fudge would have to form part of a meal.
Or...if it's as good as I think it's going to be...all of it.

Face It.

In my family we're either in the vanguard of early adopters (a big fat tv in a swish Georgian-style cabinet thing) or it takes us years to catch up with everyone else (a colour tv).
I have resisted Facebook.
Until this week.
The Garden Tea Rooms now has its own page.
So what with the blog/ramble, the FB page and the sudden urge to tweet every incident that happens in the tea rooms I'm not sure I'll have any time to make tea or serve cake.
But I'm going to give it a go....

Three weeks...and counting

We reopen on March 23rd and it's all heating up. I've had a sudden rush of enquiries about bookings for coach parties, baptism gatherings, wedding anniversary celebrations etc. All good.
The newly printed leaflets hit the racks this week.
I've bought more wooden outside furniture.
I've arranged for the gorgeous Apple Cake to make a reappearance this season (courtesy of Angela) but there's still no sign of a replacement fruit cake. I am planning to beg Anna to reconsider - the furniture salesman found out this morning that I'm not averse to a bit of begging.

Currant problem

A blow.
Lovely Anna who has made our astonishingly good fruit cake for many a long year has decided to close her recipe book and put aside her mixing bowls.
The search is on for a replacement but Anna is a hard act to follow.
And she's keeping her recipe secret.

Sandwiched

I am between seasons.
I've done some work towards the reopening in March but am still in the joy of my Winter rest and enjoying sitting and reading during the day - something I see as decadent and almost slovenly especially when my house looks the way it does.
Still, one of the books I'm reading may count as work.
It's called The Dudley Book of Cookery and Household Recipes collected and arranged by Georgiana, Countess of Dudley, who lived at Witley Court. My copy is the third impression from 1909.
In it she details how to make a sandwich. Well more than one. She describes how to make all sorts of different types including "Egg sandwiches for tea or travelling" and "Sandwiches of pounded ham for tea or luncheon baskets". I'm not sure, given what I know of large country houses with staff (see Downton Abbey) that Lady Georgiana would actually have made any of the food herself....
What I have learnt is that they did make a meal out of making a sarnie. Georgiana's lot didn't butter the bread, they mashed up whatever was going in the sandwich with the butter and then spread it. Minimal chewing seems to be the aim. Ham, tongue, shrimps, cheese, game and anchovies are all beaten to a pulp with a pestle and mortar then squished through a sieve. I thought chewing was probably seen as vulgar but someone suggested their teeth couldn't handle it.
So, given that we are the Court tea rooms, in my Lady's own garden, should I get a job lot of pestles and mortars from ebay and radically change the menu?
And what would the regulars say if faced with a special of "Sheep's Trotters Maitre D'Hotel"?
Oh if there's anyone who needs to know how to remove iron stains from white marble mantelpieces, that's in there too.