Eating Owt

At the very last, however, another place proved altogether livelier, positively reinvigorating. There'll be details of one, if not t'other. You know what they say about speaking ill of the departed.

We'd parked at Burnt Houses, a curiously named hamlet just north of Raby Castle in southern County Durham, headed westwards past Lord Barnard's Christmas club - that is to say, the Raby Estates fir tree plantation - and along a series of easy footpaths to Copley.

Just outside Copley stood an extraordinary Alexander Phallus of a smelt mill chimney, built around 1780 by the Earl of Darlington whose ponies - known as joggers - brought the lead from the mines at Egglestone.

Nearby were attractive woodland trails and a helpful information board, a drawing in the bottom left hand corner depicting two lead miners. They resembled a cross between the gaffers in the collected works of Scott Dobson and slaves at the court of King Tut.

Copley also has a Literary Institute, opened in 1898 - inevitably by Lord Barnard - and a pub whose sign declares it to be the Three Horse Shoes but which for countless years has been known as Harry Boy's, though Harry Boy long since pulled his last pint.

It was shut. "For refurb" said a notice in the window.

Just about the only substantial reading matter in the window of the Literary Institute was the agenda of Lynesack and (whisper it) Softley Parish Council, including the agenda item "Moles: update on current position."

In a spirit of helpfulness, we can report that one lies upside down on the pavement outside the former Butterknowle Brewery in Lynesack, and that its current position is distinctly deceased. Thereafter around Lynesack churchyard, up through Softley Farm, two or three miles along country roads and down to the Malt Shovel at Wham, where an old lad was lamenting the money paid to professional footballers.

"Me," he said - as they do in those parts - "aa waddn't pay them in weshers."

It was 4.30pm, the pub very welcoming, the three regularly changing real ales including the excellent Discovery from Fuller's and Adnam's Summer Madness. No food until 6pm, however.

Across the fields to Lands, a bit of village cricket at that heady outpost and then down to Cockfield where, memory suggested, a letter from "Three satisfied oldies" in Newton Aycliffe had warmly recommended the Queens Head.

The kitchen, alas, was closed for a private function. A-hungered, as they said of John the Baptist, we moved on yet again. That's when things got funereal. Getting on eight o'clock on Saturday evening and we were the only people in the pub.

A single pint of Roughwith passed with all the unforced jollity of a burial at sea: second coming, we headed by car back to the Malt Shovel.

It was bustling, including a hen party of young ladies wearing rabbit ears. We wondered why hens should wear rabbit ears; The Boss thought it was because they were bunny girls. Not easylay, anyway.

The menu was honest, occasionally adventurous, not much over £8 and almost nothing over a tenner. Meals are served in both the bar and separate, attractively furnished, dining room. Chicken breast stuffed with banana and bacon seemed a particular favourite.

The Boss had roast butternut squash with Mediterranean vegetables ("absolutely first rate"); we enjoyed a ham fillet stuffed with bacon and mushrooms - distinctly tasting of all three - in a "creamy redcurrant sauce".

The sauce was full of flavour, probably home made, the vegetables generally fine.

Thus aroused, we followed with a substantial jam sponge in a great Saragasso Sea - Yellow Sea, anyway - of custard. The rest had been earned, the day saved: ham, jam, thank you Wham.

WORD reaches these quarters that CAMRA's North-East pub of the year will shortly be announced as the Robin Hood in Jarrow, from which the Jarrow Brewery also dispenses fine ales, and Vincenzo's Restaurant has been recommended.

The Grand Hotel in Bishop Auckland, wholly revived under Simon Gillespie's careful stewardship, was a close second - and the Grand, too, went into brewery production last week. More about the Wear Valley Brewery - and the chance to win a 72 pint barrel of their first offering - in the John North column on Thursday.

THE Cross View Caf owes nothing to querulousness, rather to the familiar monument in the middle of Richmond Market Place. In truth, there's nothing to be cross about.

Opened in 1988 in the former United bus caf and since extended next door, it offers traditional, honest food in great abundance, served by smashing staff of the sort once affectionately described as homely.

There was one exception. She was ideal homely.

The recommendation had been unusual: not for cuisine but for kindliness. When an elderly regular failed to turn up one day, the staff had been so concerned that they went around, found her in a bad way and called an ambulance.

On her return from hospital, they sent around free hot meals from the caf until more normal service could be resumed. Whatever had afflicted the poor soul, it wouldn't have been lack of nourishment.

It was chocker, customers mainly older than we were - that old - the staff anxious to make it known that half portions were available. A Cross View half portion could still have fed a regiment of Green Howards for a week.

Specials included a vast and happily home made chunk of ham and vegetable pie with particularly good carrots (£4.95) and a chicken Caesar salad which The Boss considered wholly superior to the last one she'd had (at the Duchess of Northumberland's gardens in Alnwick).

We followed with summer fruit crumble and Eve's pudding, both served in bowls the size of a bin lid and with good custard. With three soft drinks, the bill for two reached £17; the column's view is unequivocal.

A BRAKE on the fast food bandwagon, the North-East's first Slow Food Convivium - from the Latin word meaning jolly get-together - was launched last week in Newcastle.

Nationally, the non-profit making movement has 2,000 members in 35 convivia and a newsletter called Snail Mail. Worldwide there are 80,000 members in 104 countries.

The aim, it says, is to promote gastronomic culture, develop taste education, promote agricultural biodiversity and protect traditional foods.

In Newcastle, it's headed by the Gusto group, who own four Italian-style outlets in the city. Details on www.slowfood.com

...and speaking of querulousness, which we were, the bairns wondered if we knew what you call a cat that's always complaining.

A sour puss, of course.

www.northeastfood.co.uk