I’m not going to lie. One of the best parts of being a teacher is the glorious, long summer holidays. This summer, I am lucky enough to be shlepping off to deepest, darkest Devon to an old farmhouse nestled in a tiny village called Harricott. The farmhouse belongs to Amy (who was my housemate and fellow teaching student at university) and her husband, Andrew. Both originally from Devon, they have since returned to Andrew’s family 18th century home which has been in his family since the early 1900s.
Amy and Andrew (along with little Dachshund dog, Jamie) are the most fabulous hosts and have treated me to many foodie treats during my stay here so far. Upon my arrival, Amy welcomed me with freshly made scones (made by Andrew’s mum) clotted cream and jam and a steaming cup of tea. Perfect! The climate here this week has been similar to that of Southern France; the long, hot days have mellowed into balmy evenings, ensuring that every meal has been eaten outside. At the top of the country garden sits a table and chairs against the backdrop of the old milking parlour, with long views over the Devonshire countryside. It doesn’t get better than this, I have already threatened that I may never leave!
One such evening, Andrew cooked us a wonderful meal that was somewhat at odds with our quintessential English countryside environment: Domoda….
