EDitorial ± 29-May-2015
Ipswich Lunches: The Lodge, Suffolk Ski Centre
Glorious spring day for our previous mid-May outing. Grotty greyscale a fortnight later and, for once, we really should be back at our desks of work within 90 minutes. Or thereabouts. So whereabouts? Somewhere hereabouts.
Over the iconic bridge beloved of local estate agents, sneaky left, cheeky right, and there's our destination eatery. Alas, that former entrance to the Suffolk Ski Centre at the top of the hill was gated and barred and obstacled some years back: curse that cut-off. Hence whizz down to the mini roundabout, wave hi to the muscly manwich merchants of Bourne Bridge and, rather than right on to the classy Cookhouse, it's a sharp right by the Ostrich aka Oyster Reach. Driving up that hill, no problem. Park by the high ropes and let's hit those slopes. Well, the dining establishment next door.
None too many enjoying their refreshments outside on this meh May day. Inside to find a board of many lunchtime specials -- this ain't no caff, it's really a full-blown restaurant, apparently -- with options of two or three courses. Phew, there's a bar menu too. Soup, olives, sarnies, chilli, curry are all cast aside in favour of hot BLTs and cold J2Os, plus a croque monsieur pour le chauffeur. Assumed we'd be among a handful of diners but very much not so: busy-busy with the silver pound on show. Lots of well-appointed seating in The Lodge as we're guided to a raised area with high-backs. Ooh, posh. Kev gives us the director's commentary on his big birthday bash (congrats to Darren on the poker result) as we consume our crunchy ciabattas 'n' leaves 'n' crisps on upmarket platters. All most agreeable in a four Yorkshiremen style.
Five mins remain for a froffee coffee which we order while the nice young man clears our crockery. Dead sophisticated, us. Macchiato for me; copycat Kev follows suit. Large hot cups duly arrive containing milky liquid. Whatever that is is not what we ordered, recalling hit-or-miss ordering at the Town Hall Tea Room. No biggie as we slurp our oversize cappuccinos. Shame this place isn't like Saint Hilaire du Touvet and reachable only by funicular, else there'd be more of a Klammer to come.