EDitorial ± 15-Aug-2008
Light Lunches: Kitty's, Framlingham
Middle of August and the two day forecast on the BBC homepage has varied greatly all this week: take your pick from light showers or heavy showers. Apart from today, when Mr Blue Sky has popped out and the sun is shining on the just. Off to Fram for only the second time -- first visit was to the rather fine Dancing Goat -- and expectations, like the temperature, are high.
Good start with free parking, then a short stroll past the Hitcham Almshouses (erected AD MDCLIV) and here, in a Bruce Forsyth stylee, is Kitty's. Through the shop crammed full of nice things, up the stairs: imagine Donna entering the Tardis and finding it no bigger on the inside. Room in the middle for us three, next to the bikeriding couple by the window. Another table has today's Times and EADT; I also spot a less obvious copy of Heat and other trashmags. All bases covered.
Briefly wonder if it's tea and cakes only, but that's before I see the writing on the wall with today's savoury options. There's one portion of lasagne left, lets on the Lovely Lady in charge. And some tantalising tartlets. Or a nice nicoise. I go for some made-to-order ham 'n' egg sarnies (NB brown bread only), pre-empted by a lemon refresher from that ever expanding James White down the road in Ashbocking. Tangy, a la Fentimans. Meantime, Andy chances his arm on one of the multitudinous Teapigs varieties on display.
LL returns with our tasty and good-for-you sandwiches, then it's down to the serious business of pudd. Ooh, those cakes look mighty fine, and they're all the work of LL. Cupcakes, flapjack, brownies, choc or lemon or carrot cake: a man with a sweet tooth could be holed up here for quite some time. Yes to the ginger cake, please. Since portion sizes aren't EU-compliant, I'm given two pieces. And what with the accompanying faultless large Americano (served in a warm china cup), truly this is my once-a-year day. Note that the extensive coffee menu also includes the rarely seen affogato, a treat for next time.
Between mouthfuls and sips we have a lovely chat with the lovely lady, who's charming and informative and keen to know what we're up to. At which point we have to up stumps. Farewell, Kitty's, it's been a pleasure.
EDitorial ± 8-Aug-2008
Light Lunches: Admiral's Head, Little Bealings
An auspicious date: 08.08.08, (oh-ate) x3. But where should we three eat? Thought we'd go green-ish and aim for somewhere relatively close to base. On to A12, then A1214, right down Hall Road and on to The Street. Oops, missed the car park on the left, so a quick U-ey and there he is, old one-eye. We have docked at the Admiral's Head in Little Bealings.
You're right, this is a pub, not a tea room: shouldn't have set that precedent with the Red Lion. A Friday lunchtime, what you'd imagine should be a busy period, in we go... and immediately double the number of punters. En route, we'd all remembered coming here before, yonks ago. Maybe everyone's up the road at the posh new Milsoms in Kesgrave? We'll most likely head there when we've all got plenty of (a) time and (b) spare cash.
Anyway, despite the Russ Abbot atmosphere, the menu sounds good and there's stacks of choice. We can also sit anywhere we like, which makes a change. Drinks and food ordered, we shut our eyes, bump into a free table and discuss Kev's rather good suggestions for the Walkers Crisps Do Us A Flavour competition. Wish I could share them, but there's fifty grand at stake.
Grub's up, and it's good. Kev's wrapped up, Grenvyle's burger-ed, and my croque monsieur (le snack) plus chips plus salad is most savoury. Back to the Walkers comp, I see there's already 20+ suggestions for "croque monsieur", and one for his ladyfriend, the "croque madame". Drat.
As we sat bathing in our post-lunch glow, you couldn't fail to notice the piped music. Scouting For Girls? Keane? Light classical? Nope, some awful freeform progressive jazz stuff, all scatty and bib-bobbidy. And once you became aware of it, the worse it got. Note to the Admiral's Head: please, please borrow Back To Black or Now 70. If you play it, they will come.