We've got a factory in Radolfzell, nestled right next to Lake Constance on the Swiss border, which makes boring things out of metal and plastic but up until now, I've never been there. Recently we had a meeting of a section of our workforce and I was one of those who went along. To be honest, the food was a bit like our factory; functional and very German. The buffet breakfast, lunch and dinner were all plentiful and while tasty, lacked a certain flair.
The dinner (pictured), although delicious, allowed you to choose veal, salmon, pork or some kind of wiggly-pasta-worm-things. Of course, if you are like me and are not sure if the current social situation will allow you to go back multiple times to try each thing - you'll get everything at once. The veal was nice and soft, the pork was juicy but the salmon was over-done. I'm not going to mark them down though because as a whole, cooking for 50 people at once is going to have a few casualties (the beans in the top left are a classic case in point).
The puds had a choice of two, some mousse in a glass and cheese. I had cheese. Hard ones, soft ones, gooey ones, smelly ones. Lots of cheese.
Yes, that's three plates. Of cheese.
So that's the food and all that's left is to post some pictures of the hotel and lake.
A colleague did wonder why those crazy Germans had left the scaffolding on... they didn't get the joke. Finally, just in case there is any doubt (Mrs P. I'm looking at you...), here is where I spent my time over the two days:
Oh yeah, sheer luxury.
My Sister and (probably soon to be) brother-in-law, live in Dulwich. They like it, I like it. Yay. But it is bollock-shrivingly expensive to live there. Boo.
We visited them recently with the Child plus further young family member in tow, and we were treated to a proper lovely dinner at Rocca. When they heard that we would have two young-uns, apparently the in-laws agreed on only one choice to offer us and so it was that we set off to visit the Dulwich branch of this hot ticket Italian restaurant.
It's true that I'm a proper sucker for simple done simply and Rocca followed that principle excellently. In fact, we were having so much fun that I didn't manage to take any photos past my own plate but there is a run down of the menu that we made ourselves fat on:
sharing platter (for two) a selection of cured
meats and cheese, served with pizza bread (we increased this to four plus small people)
pescatore fresh clams, wild mussels, a touch of chilli (mine)
risotto cuttlefish, white cornish crab butter
tortelloni ricotta & sun-dried tomato filling (Mrs P's)
margherita mozzarella, tomato, basil
The atmosphere was loud, boisterous and totally family orientated. When we visited, there were plenty of other children at tables throughout the plain but solid interior. The open kitchen and the pizza oven looking out over the front door treating you as you come in. As we waited for our table, I was very pleased to see the mahoosive chunks of parmesan lying in wait to be generously applied when requested; the signs were all there, I started to get excited.
The pescatore was simply too good to miss, I mean look at it:
The clams were huge, plump and juicy. The pasta, freshly made and cooked with bite, the Child took one look and started to tuck in and I had to take drastic measures to save anything at all! The views around the table all remarked in the same way - although without all the juicy clams.
The puds were just as good, although I decided to forgo pudding and I asked the waiter my killer question: Where is your Lemoncello kept? So many restaurants have fallen at this hurdle, 'the fridge', is the most common answer, or most crushingly; 'behind the bar'. Both of these negate any desire I may have to try the sweet, lemon nector. But not at Rocca. At Rocca, not only did I hear the joyous, heaven sent response: 'in the freezer, of course', but also because they knew the importance of that question, the Lemoncello was supplied copiously and for gratis. Yet another reason to love this place, as if I needed more.
http://www.roccarestaurants.com/index.htm
It is a universal truth that Airports, in general, are soulless places that suck the life from you as you wait for hours to queue and then sit for hours in a small seat pretending to be asleep so you don't have to talk to the person next to you*. But do airports also have to take each and every opportunity to drive a greedy wedge between you and your cash? Whatever happened to Duty-Free? You used to be able to trust that your holiday really did start once you got through security.
Unfortunately, these days I can see through this devastating lie. Travelling out of London usually hides a certain high price point because, well, it might be international but it is still London. However I was subjected to a perfect example of bad corporate ethos when I visited Glasgow Airport this week.
In Glasgow airport you have several choices of eatery. Cafe's abound alongside Frankie and Bennies and a Wetherspoons, all of which may well have been better than Beardmore which we chose because of it's alleged 'local' connections. If local means 'stick another couple of quid on for the privilege' in Scotland, then it certainly lived up to its reputation. two pints of (poor) Beardmore ale for £11 anyone? Let me put that another way, that's over FIVE POUNDS A PINT in a city that has the worst drinking problem in the UK. I can only draw two conclusions: either Glasgow is filled with millionaire tramps, or Beardmore is ripping the piss something chronic.
The food didn't fare much better:
This was my 'homemade' lamb burger. Homemade? Really? Perfectly bland with a massive slice from a gigantic mutant tomato which had to be removed for fear of washing away the whole burger and giving me a third arm. I could at least taste the lamb, onion and a bit of coriander, but it was just too chewy, too sweet and too expensive. The brioche bun continued in the same theme and I was forced to find solace in the chips. Thankfully, Beardmore didn't fail me with the deep fried part of the meal but if you get bad chips in Glasgow then you know something is really wrong. These were crispy and fluffy made with their jackets still on. Were they pre-frozen? Probably, but in situations like this you are thankful for small mercies. Next time I'll stick with the national chains... which is a real shame.
Looking through the photos on my phone I found the below:
Now, while I appreciate that giving people access to a knife just before boarding a plane is an action that must be risk assessed in the current day and age. However, I would hope that the powers that be recognise that a person needs more functionality in their cutlery than the combination of a chopstick and spork.
Beardmore Bar and Restaurant
*Or is that just me?
