Cake Heaven at Patisserie Valerie

Treat of the week was a trip to the recently opened Patisserie Valerie. 

A new experience for both of us; coffee and cake is always good, but this takes it to a whole new level.

It is, quite simply, a beautiful experience. Stylishly laid out with comfortable red leather and Art Nouveau décor, Patisserie Valerie was jam packed with all kinds of everyone. And so nice to see the younger generation enjoying proper afternoon tea. 

The staff were absolutely charming - friendly, polite and attentive. Despite a short wait, due to the abundance of customers, we were given wonderful service, starting with huge mocha coffees (which were excellent and the right balance of bitter sweetness) and there were many apologies for the short wait. 

But the delay was barely noticed, as there was so much gorgeous cakiness  to look at and admire. I had asked permission to take photos, which was freely given, and snapped away happily. 

Our waiter was charm itself and soon our cakes arrived.

The cake portions are properly generous and almost too exquisite to eat. Joe opted for cheesecake, adorned with a small piece of modern sculpture.

I went with the double chocolate gateau, with a fat, sticky profiterole nestling on top. Both were perfection to look at - and eat. My chocolate paradise was densely cocoa flavoured without being over rich, with a light, moist sponge and a rich, oozing filling. We exchanged forkfuls, but not many words. Cake eating is a serious business.

Afterwards, with happy sighs, we laid down our sticky forks and sat back. It was a complete meal in itself. We watched people coming and going, some queuing for tables, some popping in for take away portions. All the time, there was a constant crowd of people peering in at the window, admiring the pretty display.

We agreed that this has to be a regular event. And best of all, there are not only branches across the UK, but one has recently opened in my patch, Shrewsbury. So there will still be cake at Patisserie Valerie, even when Joe moves down to the cottage.

Sometimes you look forward to something, only to be slightly let down by the actual experience. This exceeded expectation and we are now loyal customers. It only took one cake each and superb customer service. 

Toadstools and cake

The last two weeks have been rather full on with work. A deadline for a new needle felt pattern, which is the largest thing I've designed instructions for. And because of a workshop happening up in the middle of that, a lightening 48 hour trip back down to Bampton, to my favourite haunt, Folly Fabrics.

Sharon (lovely shop owner and my host that night) took me on a little scenic walk around the village, where I snapped the 'Downton Abbey' church. Again.

And took touristy photos of pretty cottages and houses. I still miss the Cotswolds, despite loving Shropshire. And despite the fact that I could never afford to live here. 

One of the things I miss most, is the combination of mellow light on Cotswold stone, against a darkening sky. It brings out a horribly poignant homesickness. 'The Land of Lost Content' indeed.  

The Land of Lost Content

Into my heart an air that kills

From yon far country blows:

What are those blue remembered hills,

What spires, what farms are those?

That is the land of lost content,

I see it shining plain,

The happy highways where I went

And cannot come again.

A. E. Housman ('A Shopshire Lad')

I  am sure that many of us have those places. I do find it painfully ironic that this particular excerpt comes, of course, from A.E Housmans 'A Shropshire Lad' - and that one of my favourite musical collections by Ralph Vaughan Williams is 'On Wenlock Edge' - which I now find almost impossible to listen to.  

'On Wenlock Edge' is, as you may know, based around 'A Shropshire Lad'. The real Wenlock Edge - in Shropshire of course - is also close to the ancient green woodlands where Andy rests. All of these interwoven strands combine to make a tangled knot of intense sorrow and melancholia, which I try not to dwell on too much.

So let's not. Let's have a photograph of Sharon taking a photograph of wildflowers. As you do.

She was collecting autumn inspiration colours, and these 'Fox and Cubs' (as I know them) are the most gorgeous fiery blood orange.  

That night, a cake was decorated for the workshop. They are always themed to fit whatever we are making.

And there everyone was, the next day, with the usual combination of chatter and concentration. 

It's always lovely when people come back to my workshops and this time, four out of the nine places had been taken up by people I'd taught before. 

Teatime and the traditional toadstool dance around the cake. 

I never cease to feel so rewarded at the end of a session, when everyone has worked hard, ploughed through any difficulties and gone home with something they love.

I returned home to Shropshire that night (via train as usual), a little shattered, to find a box of macarons waiting for me; a present through the post from Joe. So sweet and so pretty; the only thing to do was to Instagram them. And then eat them. And feel lucky that I have a man who sends cake through the post.

The rest of the week was spent getting on with my pattern deadline, which was all business as usual; it will be published by Christmas, and it's my favourite one yet - I can't wait to show it off! 

Birds and blackberries

 

Summer, such as it has been, seems to have flown by. Now the tractors are up and down the lane from dawn till dark, carrying loads of straw and potatoes. Already the fields are being prepared for next year's harvest. 

We cycled out spontaneously one morning, when the sun made a joyful appearance, and headed over to Venus Pool to see what was going on in the bird community.

Quite a lot, as it happened. We settled in one of the waterside hides. 

 

The geese were gathering in numbers - flocks of them have been flying over the cottage regularly, heralding the end of summer with their haunting cries. There were the usual Canadian Geese and a crowd of Grey Geese. Keeping their distance, faraway, were three pairs of Cormorants. A dignified Grey Heron mingled in a rather aloof fashion.

I told Joe how Andy always referred to these birds  as 'grey greasy fishermen', from the way they seem to slink and slide as they are hunting or flying.

There was one unexpected visitor, a Little White Egret.

 

Such a pretty thing, delicately picking its way past the waddling, guzzling geese.

 It's on the amber list of birds, so this was a good 'spot'.

We headed over to the little woodland hide, where numerous bird feeders attract the smaller birds. Nothing unusual here (though I did once watch a rat squabbling with a pair of ducks). The birds do very well here, with plenty of peanuts provided for the Great Tits and suchlike.

One last glance at Venus Pool, with the Wrekin looming in the background, before heading home to beat the incoming rain.  

 Autumn is definitely on its way.

 Joe spotted an old wasp nest in a muddy bank - I have to admit I walked right past it, thinking it was a disintegrating plastic bag.

Exquisite constructions; delicate paper palaces which will gradually dissipate over the season, leaving nothing but a few tiny, desiccated corpses. 

We picked blackberries on the way home; our summer has been somewhat mixed and fruit in general is not great this year.

 But we foraged enough for a crumble.

True to form, the British summer closed in and as we arrived home, the rain was tumbling in from Wales. This was the view from the garden...before taking cover.

 

After a good morning of wandering, and with calories to replace, there was home made trifle for lunch. This baby had my own lemon drizzle cake lining the bottom - which gives it a nice zingy cut though the sweetness of cream, jelly and custard. And, of course, hundreds and thousands.