Pastry and Me

I thought I’d do a book about railway refreshment rooms. It had only been done once previously, as far as I could see, and that was by an insider and some time ago. I thought maybe that he was spilling the beans, though hopefully not in the dining car, after an abrupt switch to the slow line.  The more I wrote, the more I thought, this is really going to be quite boring - something that has admittedly not always deterred me, previously.

My life with pastry, on the other hand, has been a lifetime commitment. I know its not that good for me, but every now and then it’s OK, surely? Custard slice on my way to Llandore sheds in the 60s and countless mille feuillee on family holidays in France. I’ve sampled June’s excellent home-made pies - a reliable staple on the menu at the Plough in Farnsfield. A trip to see the albatross on the Yorkshire coast took us by chance to the Piebald Inn at Hunmanby, which proudly specialises in pies. It would have seemed rude to have asked for anything else.

Two other things put me off my station buffet book. The first was that the situation is dominated by corporate chains that have a reputation for blandness as the cost of predictability. You definitely know what to expect. The second is that many of the independent outlets have closed down since Covid as they were only marginally viable in the first place. Those sites would probably not have been overlooked by the chains in the first place had they been obvious money makers. The pandemic then led to a subsequent loss of footfall, endangering them further.

A combination of current circumstances periodically leaves me loitering near Greggs in Calverton. I’d heard about the success of their vegan sausage rolls, and you can mix and match meat and vegan at four for the very reasonable price of three. They are a little salty, but I really enjoy my little treat and I’ve found that they all get eaten. Still with minutes to spare, I announced my most recent purchases to my friends. Ian goes for a spinachy one from Gerrards, family bakers on the Wirral since 1838 at the relatively abstemious rate of one a year, Dave had his fix from Greggs in Uttoxeter services yesterday, and John goes the whole hog with a meaty monthly visit to Whiterow farm shop at Beckington, near Frome [he is there, as I write this!]

Railway catering will have to wait. I may even think of something else that is more critical and less tedious to bring to peoples’ attention. In the meantime, I’ll just keep on munching.