Cornish Capers and Anchovies

Phew. I'm tired, ratty and if I ever see another fish again it will probably be too soon, but my goodness, I have had an awesome few days in Cornwall.

Padstow, for those of you who haven't visited is basically owned and run entirely by Rick Stein. Everywhere you look there's homage to the man, Stein's Patisserie, Stein's Deli, Stein's restaurant, Stein's f**king public loos, and oh look, Stein's massively overinflated local property prices forcing out the Cornish community (£750,000 for a small 3 bedroom place in the village). Hurrah for Stein!

But despite this, there's lots to love about Padstow.

As you know, I went as my friend Dave's plus one on a corporate hospitality jolly, and hence had to be on my best behaviour for 48 straight hours (I think this could explain the tiredness and rattyness). This meant not swearing, and not making fun of northern accents- very tough....Yorkshire accents are crying out to be mimicked.

Tuesday evening we checked into our rooms, in a place called St Edmunds House, Petroc. Funnily enough a luxury 6 bedroomed guest house with views over the bay owned by Rick Stein and his partner, charging £295 per room per night. Absolutely amazing rooms though, with the 'Molton Brown' freebie toiletries sealing the deal for me.

After a quick soak in the cast iron bath (get in!) and a minor dilemma regarding what to wear...not too much breast, not too much leg, not too much slap, flats vs heels, I emerged looking 'respectable' and ready for cookery school action.

We were frogmarched by our events chap (lovely man called Matt) to Stein's Padstow Cookery School, where we donned our white chefs jackets (needn't have worried about the excess cleavage), and the realisation dawned on us all that we weren't watching a cooking demo, and that 'interactive demonstration' meant, you are s*dding well cooking your own dinner and eating it, so if you f**k it up then don't blame us if you get food poisening'. So we were showed the 'filleting' techniques, how to do speed chopping without loosing a finger and how to make useful everyday things, like homemade mayonnaise.

We paired up, and me and Davy boy geared up for the big cook off. Salt and pepper squid with champagne, mackeral escabeche with several glasses of wine and deep fried sea bass with salsa verde with more wine on the side, I was hammered. And I'd acquired a nasty oil burn on my little finger from an over zealous amount of olive oil in my pan. Chefs are not sympathetic to minor cooking injuries you know.....quite upsetting- but my chef said that I had 'nice soft hands'. I think this meant he thought I was a nancy who hadn't done a hard days work in my life.

Thank GOD we were let off cooking our pudding as by that time it was pushing midnight and I was far too drunk to listen to any more 'handy cooking' tips. We sat and drank some 'Chalky's Revenge' beer (Stein's dog who died last week- RIP Chalky), drank more wine and continued small talking. Our lovely chef Mark joined us and one by one the rest of his staff scarpered, and he was kept at work listening to our inane chit chat until almost 2am. Poor man.

Needless to say I stood Dave up for breakfast as I was mentally putting myself through the 'you MUST not' spew paces. But there was no rest for the wicked as off we went to the helecopter, feeling decidedly queasy and incredibly worried about the levels of wind, and liklihood of vomming on Dave's clients. I cleverly opted to go shot-gun in the 'copter, to minimise the risk of public vomming as the rest of the group went in the back. This gave me a great opportunity to ask the pilot what EVERY single button did, even the one which said someting like 'propulsion ejecter lever' which apparently made the doors fall off their hinges. It was red. I should have known.

Up and away we went, zooming up the Cornish coastline on this sunny clear day. It was gorgeous, and so still and calm up in the air. Such an amazing feeling gliding through the sky with your headphones on and in total silence.

Made it through unscathed...thank goodness. The final challenge of the weekend was a 6 course 'taster' menu at (you'd never have guessed it) Stein's restaurant- with a hangover, after a helecopter ride. It was touch and go, but I made it through and when our return flight from Newquay to Bristol landed early evening, I mentally patted myself on the back for not being too humiliating. Except for I did give the chef a kiss when everyone else shook his hand. And a real smacker aswell. But he loved it.

J'aime les poissens. Could have murdered a pasty though.