2nd July 2018 - Long weekend in Guernsey, day 4

I woke up on my last morning in Guernsey in my nice hotel room, to the sound of gentle rain, took my time getting up and showered and ready, then went down to breakfast. Of course there was the usual continental buffet spread and the menu for cooked breakfasts; the latter included smoked haddock with poached eggs. Yummm. I asked for that, and some brown toast.

I think the waitress thought it was a bit odd that I didn't go and get something from the buffet while waiting for it. That's something I have always done (and most people probably do) when visiting hotels where breakfast is included or a pre-paid set price, because there's a wider variety of options available than you have at home, and you can have as much as you like. But recently I've noticed myself doing that, and think it's not a very healthy or good thing to do, and a food-philosophy book I read recently talked about this too, so this time I decided to have the savoury before the sweet, appreciate that, give it time to settle, then decide if I need or want more to eat.

The smoked haddock with poached eggs was indeed yummm. As was the toast - good bread, and great, soft butter. I'm a sucker for good bread and good butter, I love it. (And to think, I used to hate butter, and refuse to have it in my sandwiches for school, or on toast, or anything. I am glad I've grown out of my childhood dislikes for certain foodstuffs!) I ate slowly and enjoyed it, looking out the window at the terrace and the sea, then did go to get some fruit and a small Danish pastry from the continental buffet.

After finishing, I went upstairs, got my things together, checked out and spent my last few hours on the island sitting on the beach in the sun. At 1pm I got the bus into town and went to the ferry terminal. Sad to be leaving, but having had a really lovely few days. I will definitely go back, if not this year then certainly next spring. :)

1st July 2018 - Long weekend in Guernsey, day 3

I had booked a nice hotel on the west coast for my last night on Guernsey. After breakfast at the B&B on Sunday, I returned my room key and left at 9am to catch the bus to Cobo Bay. The hotel, named after its location, is right on the beach. I asked to leave my bag in their luggage store until I could check in that afternoon, then spent the next couple of hours on the beach - a wide, beautiful, sandy, quiet one. Lovely :)

There are two bus routes that go round the perimeter of the island - one clockwise, one anti-clockwise - and take about an hour and a half to do the whole loop. I got on the 12:23 one to town on the northern half of the loop, so got to see some of that area of the island. While on board the weather turned a bit chilly and cloudy and rainy, but thankfully it wasn't very heavy by the time we reached the town, and it was a short walk to where I planned to go for lunch.

I went to The Boathouse, right on the harbour. My peace and quiet of the last couple of days was broken, as it was a typical family-friendly seaside restaurant, busy and noisy with rushing staff. The weather made me fancy some comfort food, so I ordered fish pie; it was a bit expensive for what it was, but nice. To avoid the rain for a bit longer I ordered a crepe for dessert, just with lemon and sugar. Sadly, I tend to find crepes a bit 'too much' - quite heavy and with not enough filling: only half of it is 'filled' before being folded, and icing sugar is used which just disappears. When having pancakes at home I drench the whole thing in lemon juice and granulated sugar, so you can taste both the sharpness and sweetness, it's moist, and there's a crunch from the sugar. So when the filling is lemon and sugar, I prefer the British pancakes I'm used to, but maybe I should try a crepe with a different, more substantial filling one day, like the classic Crepe Suzette, or a galette (savoury crepe).

The rain had stopped by the time I finished, the clouds were dispersing a bit, and I had bought a poncho from the Tourist Information Centre, so I decided to risk taking a walk to Fermain Bay, which I had started to walk to on my day trip but turned back due to time uncertainty. I knew it would take about an hour so just hoped the rain would hold off! It did; the sun came out and stayed out. The wooded areas on the route provided some very welcome shade in the heat, and a couple of months ago would have been full of bluebells, which would be a lovely sight. There were also some wonderful views over the sea towards Herm, Jethou and Sark, from the clifftop parts of the route. After about an hour, and lots of climbing up and down steps, I reached the bay, a pebbly beach at the bottom of a valley - there isn't a car park, you have to get there on foot.

There's a café with a terrace, which had quite a few customers, but I sat down on the beach itself a little way off so I couldn't really hear them. As with Cobo Bay that morning, I just sat, and gazed, and watched, and observed, and appreciated, for a couple of hours. A group of boys in little sailing boats landed, maybe a group of Scouts, a local sailing school, or a school trip. The adult trip leader attempted to get them to organise themselves into two lines for ice cream - one for those who would like vanilla, and one for those who would like mint choc chip. I didn't pay too much attention, and understood his reasoning for giving them just two choices, but perhaps mint choc chip was an odd choice as opposed to just chocolate, as it took him a while.

At 5pm I left and made the ten-minute walk up the steep hill to the main road to catch the bus back to Cobo. This time I took the longer route that went round the south of the island, continuing the loop. I think I preferred this one, as it went inland slightly and I saw more countryside. It got me back to Cobo Bay around twenty past six, and I went for a bit of a wander along the beach - the hotel holds concerts on its balcony on Sunday afternoons during the summer, and the Blondie tribute band was still going when I arrived. It was due to finish at seven, though, so I just walked for a bit, found the fish and chip shop I planned to get dinner from, then went and checked in.

My room was cool and quiet, and I could just hear the live music still going, so I stayed in there for a while. Sorting out my things, I discovered that the little bag of Caragh Chocolates had split completely and the four remaining truffles were lying in the bottom of my backpack. I didn't have anything else to put them in for travelling the next day (and didn't think of just going down to reception and asking for some sellotape... isn't hindsight great), so I ate a couple. They were so delicious, wonderful, amazing, and I really enjoyed them, but I was quite disappointed that I felt I had to; I'm not a chocoholic, I prefer savouring small amounts of good-quality stuff less often, so I genuinely wanted to keep them and enjoy one a day because they were so excellent. I would save the last two for after dinner, and definitely order a box as a treat sometime.

The road outside, which is closed for the concerts, was in the process of being cleared up for re-opening, and a lot of people were still out on the hotel restaurant's terrace or in the street enjoying the evening with drinks and/or food. It was busy, but not too uncomfortably so, there weren't drunk shouty people around. It was an 80s tribute band gig on a Sunday evening in Guernsey, after all. Still, I didn't want to join them, I wanted peace and space. I ordered a chip butty and salt-and-pepper squid (cooked to order, and perfectly so!) from the fish bar, then plonked myself on the beach a bit further along where it was quiet. I sat there for the next hour and a half, watching the sun set.

30th June 2018 - Long weekend in Guernsey, day 2.2

My previous post ended halfway through the day, as I left the place I'd had lunch. After describing such a wonderful experience, I didn't want to go continue and talk about more mundane things. So, before writing about day 3, here's the rest of day 2...

Shortly after crossing La Coupeé back into Greater Sark, you reach the shop, tea garden and chocolate-making kitchen of Caragh Chocolates. I knew this was here and intended to visit. Started by an Irishwoman (Caragh) who moved to Sark in 1989 and fell in love with the fresh, thick cream from the cows that graze on the island, it's a small, independent chocolatier that makes every chocolate by hand on site in a regular-sized room in an old farmhouse, but ships all over the world.

They sell several 12-truffle boxes (such as one for truffles containing liqueur, another for dark chocolate truffles inspired by the fact that Sark is a designated Dark Sky Island, one of just salted caramel chocolates, etc.), chocolate bars, and individual chocolate truffles that you can pick and choose. After looking at the 'menu', I chose six individual truffles: a milk chocolate Sea Salted Caramel, a milk chocolate Roasted Nut Medley, and ones flavoured with cherry, marshmallow, hazelnut, and cinnamon. Caragh put them into a little cellophane bag and I put them in my backpack to enjoy over several days.

I still had an hour and a half or so before I needed to be back at the harbour for the 4pm ferry back to Guernsey, so I decided to find Dixcart Bay. The route took me past the Stocks Hotel, the main hotel on Sark. The garden and outside eating area was busy and noisy with visitors enjoying lunch or a drink in the sunshine with their friends or families... so different to the rest of the island, and a bit strange after the last few hours of peace and quiet. The country, woodland-valley location brought to mind places in Devon and Cornwall, and made the place feel a bit more familiar, though; I guess another sort of oasis of 'normality' for those of us unused to places like this remote island with no streetlights or cars.

I continued past the hotel into the wooded valley, laughing with joy and wonder once more at being suddenly surrounded by the smell of honeysuckle. I adore honeysuckle, and Sark's hedgerows are full of it. I have never seen so much of it in my life. I'd been catching the scent of it every now and then all day, but in this particular valley the air literally smelled of honeysuckle. I have never experienced that before, the air saturated with the scent of a particular plant. I wonder if the lack of pollution from cars contributes to it being possible there. Probably. Anyway, wonderful.

I passed a pretty grey-stone cottage that I loved: it was in a nice wooded valley, secluded but still close to the hubs of the Stocks Hotel and the village, and had a little track at the bottom of the garden which led to the beach. Dixcart Bay was mostly empty except for two or three other people, but it's quite a large beach so nobody was exactly near each other. I stayed there only about five minutes, as I didn't know how long it would take to get back to the harbour. After walking uphill quite a bit in the hot sunshine and taking a wrong turn or two, I got there in time. I sat outside on the deck on the way back, which was good, but despite putting my cardigan and fleece on, I was shivering by the time we reached St Peter Port forty-five minutes later. So I sat on a bench in the sunshine for a while, and thought about whether to have an early dinner or go back to the B&B and come back into town later.

It was then that I discovered the Sea Salted Caramel from Caragh Chocolates, which had been put in the bag first so was at the bottom, had been crushed a little, the caramel oozing out. Nooo! I tried to fish it out so it wouldn't crush further and melt, but the little cellophane bag was tall and thin so I had to split the seam of the bag to get to it. I tried not to split it too far down, and managed to fish it out and roll the bag up a bit around the rest of the chocolates to return to my backpack. Of course, I had to eat the semi-crushed one, and groaned out loud at its deliciousness. Oh, it was so good! In keeping with my earlier lunch, probably the best chocolate I've had.

Seeing as I was already in town and it was about 5pm, I decided to go for dinner then, instead of going back to the B&B then coming out again... even though my appearance - after a day on a dusty, windy island where I'd been covering myself in suncream and getting a bit sweaty with all the walking - probably wasn't what the French staff at Le Petit Café prefer, haha. It's not a posh place, though, so I didn't care.

Croque monsieur was on my list of things to have at Le Petit Café, as well as their chicken liver paté and breaded camembert. Unfortunately, they move to an evening menu at 5pm so those things are no longer served, and the cafe is closed Sundays and Mondays... so they'll have to wait till next time I go back!

After shivering on a boat, I ordered bouillabaisse, a Marseillaise tomato-y fish stew/soup. It was really good, very tasty, again very well made, and nice and warming, but most of the fish had lots of bones in still. Having to constantly pick out a number of bones from my mouth after almost every bite, took away the enjoyment a bit, which was a shame. I really enjoyed the tomato-based broth though. The soup came with a few of the thin, crispy crouton slices, some garlic rouille and some grated Gruyere. Then for dessert, I finally ordered the tarte tatin, which was very nice.

I think after that I just headed back to the B&B.

30th June 2018 - Long weekend in Guernsey, day 2.1

The island of Sark lies nine miles to the east of Guernsey. It is just over two square miles in area (almost five and a half square kilometres), has a population of around 500 people, and is a car-free zone.

There, I had the most incredible meal I have had anywhere, ever.

Before telling you about that, I'll tell you about the rest of the day.

There are several ferries a day, and mine arrived about quarter to eleven. The island is a plateau, cliffs rising from the sea on all sides, so from the little harbour there's a somewhat steep hill to traverse in order to reach the village. I walked up the footpath, which took about ten minutes (and had me out of breath a bit! not used to hill walks), but there are tractor-trailers.

No cars are allowed on Sark. The only motorised vehicles are tractors and the roads are all dirt lanes, sandy and dusty in this weather. There are no streetlights. The only noises are the wind, the birds and insects, the odd cow, the odd cyclist or walker, the odd tractor, and the sea. It brought to mind Inis Mór, a rugged, rocky island off the coast of Galway, exposed to the elements. Sark feels a bit less exposed, but maybe it was just the fact that there are a lot more trees there, and little valleys, and that the weather was warm and sunny. Anyway, it was quite odd... not quite eerie, but you know it would be if the weather and/or season were different. I read a book about Irish faery stories a few years ago - people's stories of their experiences - and they described walking about the remote, sometimes harsh, unlit, sparsely populated countryside after dark, going home from the pub or a day's work or a neighbour's house; I wondered what that must be like, and felt the same while wandering around Sark. The island's tourism motto is "A world apart", and it is, it's like stepping back in time. I loved it.

I headed to Little Sark, connected to the main part of the island by La Coupeé, an isthmus almost a hundred metres long and about three metres wide. There's a sheer drop of almost a hundred metres on either side, and railings were only installed in 1900. Sarkees are sensible - there's only one recorded incident of someone being blown off it, back in the 18th century. There's a big beach on one side, and steps zig-zagging down the cliff, but the gate at the top is padlocked, so obviously it's too dangerous now. There were a couple of people down there though, and a little boat anchored just offshore.

After wandering round Little Sark for a while - saw the ruins of the silver mines, and Port Gorey, which as far as I could see was just a ladder fixed to the rocks for boats to pull up to - I went to La Sablonnerie for lunch. It's a hotel, restaurant and tea garden, at the end of a lane in the middle of nowhere. I'd read that it was very good, the best on the island, and that Sark lobster was a speciality - I've never had lobster before, so wanted to try that. In typical 'me'-style, I did doubt myself and consider going somewhere else, somewhere that might be cheaper (the menu didn't have prices on), but I just said what the hell - I was here at least partly on a food trip - and went in.

Ohhhh, am I glad I did.

Sat outside in the lovely garden, in the shade of the trees, I ordered the lobster thermidor. It came as pieces of tender meat from a young lobster, in a pool of creamy, slightly mustardy Mornay sauce, served in the creature's shell, topped with some grated cheese. It smelled divine.

As for what it tasted like... I'm sure a seasoned food journalist would find the words to describe it, but I'm not even going to attempt it. I can't describe how I felt with that first mouthful. It was stunning. The only word I have is exquisite.

Even the side salad was great. So simple, but so fresh and crisp and made with ingredients from the hotel's own gardens, drizzled in a pleasantly mild French dressing.

For dessert I ordered poached strawberries in a sweet wine syrup with sabayon.

This was just as amazing. The strawberries were sweet and obviously fresh seasonal ones, poached for just long enough that they were soft and juicy with the syrup but still had a bit of bite. The syrup was light and very sweet, balanced by the taste of brandy in the creamy, smooth, wonderful sabayon.

As I said, it was the most incredible meal I've had anywhere, ever, and I know this was because of a number of things. The ingredients were excellent quality, and mostly local. They had been worked by a very talented and skilled chef into something truly wonderful, a work of art. French food is new to me, nor have I had lobster or sabayon before. It was in a remote location, but the place itself was an oasis of charm and tranquility. It was a treat to experience a style of hospitality and service that was a bit different to what I'm used to at regular restaurants - it was calm, quiet, unintrusive, unhurried but not slow, professional and polite (I was called madame... the French version sounds a bit nicer than "madam"), and each waiter/waitress had a certain role for all tables, rather than each one serving a certain set of tables. When I went inside to pay the bill, the bubbly, friendly proprietress appeared and offered a small, complimentary glass of homemade sloe gin, which was delicious. (I don't like gin, but it seems sloe gin is a completely different beverage.) When she asked if I had enjoyed my meal, and I responded that it was the best I'd had anywhere ever, she was so pleased and thanked me and said she'd pass the compliment onto the chef. And finally, I was just not expecting it, but appreciated and savoured every single moment. The food was excellent and truly among the best I've ever had, and will be again if I go back one day, but it was a number of things together that made the experience as a whole so special.

(Oh, and there were some lovely, very well-behaved and friendly dogs at other tables to watch, including a Westie called Magnus. What a great name! And the Japanese man also dining solo on a nearby table wandered round taking pictures of the gardens while waiting for his food, then with no apparent embarassment asked the waiters to take pictures of him with the food when it arrived - good for him.)

I left and headed back towards Greater Sark, little laughs of wonder escaping me.

29th June 2018 - Long weekend in Guernsey, day 1

Six weeks after my day trip to Guernsey in May, I went back there once again for a long weekend.

The ferry wasn't quite so early this time, lunchtime instead of breakfast time. When it arrived in St Peter Port mid-afternoon I wandered round the town for a while, as I hadn't seen any of it on my previous visit, before walking to my B&B, which took half an hour.

I'd booked the cheapest place I could find. It was on a quiet residential street on the outskirts of the town with a bus stop at the top of the road. I was greeted by one of the owners, a chap perhaps in his sixties or seventies with a bit of a character, who sat me down and gave me some maps and information and then asked for my breakfast order.

Umm... nope. No chance. I am utterly hopeless at making decisions (something I really want to improve). I kind of went "Um, um, I don't know!" Eventually I said I'd have breakfast at 8 but asked if I could let him know later about what I would like to eat, after I'd gone to my room and had time to myself and thought about it. I know that choosing what to have for breakfast should be a quick and easy task, but often for me the smallest decisions are the most difficult, and being put on the spot definitely does not help. It's nice that they do that, though, it's easier for them to know in advance so they don't waste food by putting a buffet out, or have a hectic time in the mornings cooking to order.

The whole place was a bit dated, but very clean and perfectly fine as a place for a bed and breakfast for a couple of nights. Cheap and cheerful. Once I'd been shown to my room I unpacked a bit and rested for a while, thinking about my plans for the next day. About quarter to seven I went to leave to catch the bus into town for dinner and met the other owner, another man perhaps in his late fifties or early sixties. I gave him my breakfast order of scrambled eggs and beans on toast, he asked me about what I was planning to do during my stay, gave me some leaflets and maps and stuff and chatted for a while. I didn't want to interrupt him so I could go get the bus, so ended up walking into town, but he'd pointed out on the map a route that would avoid the main road for some of the way and take me through the Old Quarter a bit, so I got to see some of that which was nice.

So - dinner, the most important bit, haha! I went to Le Petit Cafe, the French place I'd wanted to go to last time. Lovely place! Just like a French cafe (not that I've been to many). Tall many-paned windows with dark red floor-to-ceiling curtains, tied back, and those little white net half-curtains on a rail about head height when you're sat down. Wooden floor and wooden not-all-matching furniture, with old-fashioned lamps on the windowsills, and a bar at the back of the room. Pretty relaxed but at the same time somewhat sophisticated and charming. There is a doorway leading through to the bistro next door (Le Petit Bistro) but I didn't see that as it was full.

To start, I ordered the cuisses de grenouilles - pan-fried frogs legs in parsley and lemon butter - and coq au vin with Dauphinoise potatoes for the main. Both dishes came out smelling wonderful - I leaned over, closed my eyes and breathed it in (the smell, that is, not the food), appreciating that sense for a few moments. I broke into a big smile and did an excited little giggle as I put my napkin on my lap and picked up the cutlery.

The frogs legs were delicious. The texture, as everyone's always heard, is very similar to chicken, but of course they're very small and these were succulent and tender, with crispy bits where they'd been fried. I imagine the taste would be similar to chicken too if they were plain, but the taste of the garlic, lemon and parsley marinade/sauce was the primary one. They were served with a few salad leaves, a crouton (a thin slice of crisp fried bread rather than cubes) a strong, somewhat vinegary tomato sauce, and of course a wedge of lemon.

The coq au vin and the Dauphinoise potatoes were warm and comforting and rich and deep and full of flavour and delicious - very well made. I took my time and enjoyed every last drop of that perfectly clear broth, even though I left some of the chicken (there was a lot of it).

I finished eating around 9pm, service was slow and they close at 10pm - and I was quite full up - so I didn't order the tarte tatin that had also been on my list of things I wanted to eat there last time. I got the bill and went for a wander round the town and harbour, the colours of sunset making a gorgeous backdrop. Some billionaire's enormous ocean-going yacht was moored up in one place, boxes full of colourful flowers along the harbour railings looked pretty in the twilight, and in the east behind Castle Cornet the full moon had just cleared the horizon and rose slowly upwards, a stunning blood-red colour. At 11pm I got the bus back to the B&B and went to bed, looking forward to going to Sark the next day.