I'm deliberately misusing Hemingway's quotation about Paris being a moveable feast, which wasn't about food at all. It merely meant that memories of one's early life in Paris could always be conjured up in later life. However, I'm referring specifically to food memories, not of Paris, but of Britain. In Wales I tried a greengage for the first time in my life:
And bought fresh blackberries at a farmer's market:
For the first time I tried Eton Mess, not in Eton, but in Cheltenham:
And discovered that mushy peas are an excellent accompaniment to cod and chips:
Windfalls found on a table in a country churchyard have a romantic timelessness that could be out of a George Eliot novel :
This Bakewell Pudding, tasted in Bakewell, was delicious:
As was a Welsh cake in, of course, Wales:
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