The Lake District

At the end of May, we left our Bloomsbury Square flat.  Originally we had vague ideas of traveling for the month of June and then returning for a brief conference and on to Switzerland for R's short course high above Interlaken.   There was a lot of uncertainty about June, though, so we decided back in February that at the very least, we would take a week's vacation in the Lake District, Cumbria, source of much of the excellent food products we were enjoying in London, plus scenery and multiple opportunities for walking and seeing the retreats of great writers.  So we packed up our things, put them in "storage" in R's office at UCL, and left for the north.
  The scenery was indeed spectacular.  The rhododendrons, both cultivated and wild, were in full and showy bloom.  This is the view from our first hotel, Holbeck Ghyll.

We chose this one for two reasons.  Its restaurant had one star in the Michelin guide, and it boasted that it was the starting off place for many walks.  We spent four nights here, in a lovely corner room with this same view of Lake Windermere, and had four dinners.
In country house style, one gathers half an hour before the appointed dinner time in the lounge for drinks, and snacks, and here one peruses the menu and gives the order.  The hors d'oeuvres were all variations on a theme, and included: eggplant cream, with bread sticks for dipping; "anchovy crisps" - fried thin sticks with anchovy; vegetable crisps - thin fried veggie slivers; olives; salmon goujons (deep fried) topped with aoili.
For our first meal, I had a tian of crab with grapefruit, and R had a langoustine and lobster starter, followed by "best end of lamb" (known in London as rack of lamb), with perfectly cooked and shaped vegetables for me, and turbot in red wine sauce, with spinach, for R.  Dessert, for a surcharge, was a selection of local and distant cheeses, all excellent, and which changed significantly over the four nights.
We had taken a short walk that first day after arriving, up behind the hotel and over some hills to Ambleside, the bigger town at the north end of the lake.  Then back to the hotel (taking the shortcut from the road through sheep meadows) to rest before dinner.  This was to be our routine.  Here is the hotel itself, formerly the hunting lodge of Lord Lonsdale, for those interested in the peerage.

This first day's weather was sunny, much welcomed locally after a week of steady rain, reported our taxi driver.  He had also recommended that we could tackle an "easy" climb of Loughrigg Fell, which loomed above the north end of the lake.  We resolved to do this on our second day, weather permitting. (Our guidebook, Wainright's classic guide to the 218 fells of the district, warned about losing the path in the mist.)
The weather was lousy the next day, so plan B was to take a bus to Grasmere and visit Wordsworth's Dove Cottage, where he spent the most productive 10 years of his life.  From there we would take low paths back to Ambleside.  But as we walked, the weather seemed to be lifting, and we took a higher trail, toward Loughrigg Terrace, for better views of the lake.  And then came the moment of truth - the junction for Loughrigg Fell.  The path was extremely well marked and even paved with rocks, only it seemed to go straight up.  But we took it, and although it was cold and damp, we made it to the top, and over to the other side, descending to Ambleside.  The view even in the mist was pretty nice, in all directions: Lake Windermere on one side, Lake Grasmere on the other, and the really big fells ranging behind Grasmere to the north.  Loughrigg Fell is about 1100 feet in altitude, puny compared to the big hills.  We descended just a bit to a more sheltered area and had our packed lunch: cheese and ham sandwiches, fruits, and fruitcakes.
Dinner that night:  rabbit rillets (a small cylinder of creamy rabbit, wrapped in a slice of Parma ham - very artfully constructed) and pressed ham hock with chicken and pickled mushrooms for starters.  These pressed terrines were something of a specialty, delicious, lovely to look at, and something definitely to try to emulate.  Mains: filet of Angus beef with wild mushrooms for me, and for R, best end of lamb, this time with haggis beignets and puree of swede.  Dessert included nougat glace with passion fruit sorbet and mango parcels.
On the following day, Friday, we planned a big bus and lake excursion to John Ruskin's house, Brantwood, one lake over.  A long walk to the bus stop for Bus 505, then a merry ride over narrow lanes, backing up when cars could not pass the bus, getting off at Waterhead Hotel to catch the 11:25 launch to Brantwood. Only the 11:25 wasn't running, due to there being only one launch instead of two.  We relaxed at the jetty, observing a group of kids trying to make pontoon rafts and then sail them.  Eventually the launch arrived and took us to Brantwood, where we toured the house and extensive gardens, and had a passable lunch outdoors, with a great view of Coniston Water, the lake, and Coniston Old Man, the big fell across from us.  Lunch included drinking Bluebird ale, brewed locally, named after the speedboat that crashed and sank in the 1970s in the attempt to set a world speed record.  (This is big in local lore.)
The launch back to Coniston was full and couldn't take us, so we waited some more, then a mad dash to the village to find the bus stop, and back to Windermere on the 505, in plenty of time for our next meal.
This was probably the best of them all.
For starters, mousse of foie gras with Puy lentils, pea shoots, and "pea foam."  The flavors were vivid, and the plate was a visual delight.  R had pressed guinea fowl with baby leek.  We both had the same main because it was irresistible: roast filet of veal, with sweetbread ravioli, some spinach, and fresh morels.  Everything, as always, perfectly arranged, and perfectly proportioned.   Cheese for dessert.
The next day, Friday, turned out to be a "scorcher," as the waitress at breakfast warned us.  Indeed, it was sunny and got up to 28 degrees.  Our plan had been to walk east to the next valley behind the hotel, to the town of Troutbeck.  We had a booklet with a marked walk that would make a nice loop and lead us to a couple of pub options for lunch.  Looking at our Ordinance Survey map, we realized we could take a short detour from this route and climb Wansfell Pike, a hill of about 1500 feet.  Like our other paths, this route took us up country lanes, then through gates and styles through sheep and cow pastures, along stone fences, through and over creeks.  The signposting was generally very good.   Just at noon ("mad dogs and Englishmen") we reached the top, to join many other groups, young families, some in full hiking gear with poles and backpacks, others more casual like us (not even wearing hats).  Another 360 degree view:

That's Lake Windermere in the background and beyond, although it doesn't show in the photo, we could see Morecambe Bay, leading to the Irish Sea.  Back down again through more sheep fields and narrow lanes, and then we came out in Troutbeck village, where many of the houses date to the 1600s.  Close at hand was the Mortal Man Inn, where we took comfort in its dark and cool inside bar, and had a terrific lunch. R had sauteed breast of pigeon on top of creamed cabbage and potato cake.  I had a salad of cherry tomatoes, goat cheese, roasted pine nuts, and basil.  Perfect after such a "strenuous" day.  Later we read that Woodrow Wilson liked to stay in this village, and he walked over Wansfell Pike to Ambleside every day.
Our last meal included a reprise of the langoustine and lobster starter, and scallops topped with a white truffle slice - supremely aromatic! For the mains, a breast of Poulet Anglais (the Rolls Royce of chicken) with mushroom accompaniment, and fish.  Desserts: I finally succumbed to the chocolate dessert, four little tidbits perfectly done (chocolate tart, a tiny mousse, some white chocolate); R had more cheese.  This time we took coffee and petit-fours on the terrace, watching the sunset. (That's Loughrigg Fell, the twin peaks on the left.)

For our last three nights we moved to a small guesthouse in Windermere itself, which allowed us to start walks from a different vantage point.  On Sunday, we took the ferry across the lake and walked up to the village of Near Sawrey, home to Beatrix Potter's Hill Top farm. We toured the house along with lots of kids who remembered her tales better than we did, but what we found most interesting was Beatrix Potter the farm magnate.  She bought up and managed hundreds of acres of farmland, and used her powers of landlord to insist that her tenants raise the local breed of sheep, Herdwick, which is specially suited (with its sturdy legs and thick waterproof coat) to the region.  They are somewhat endangered now, due to the recent hoof and mouth outbreak, but we saw a few of them on our walks:  they are gray with white faces, and many menus in the area boasted they were serving Herdwick lamb.

Later, Beatrix gave all of her land to the National Trust, with the stipulation that they continue to breed the Herdwick sheep.  So she (and John Ruskin) were two of the biggest benefactors of the National Trust. We also saw several pheasants on our way to Hill Top Farm, another feature of the Lake District. (And indeed, we have a "Lakeland pheasant" in our refrigerator as I write, brought back yesterday from Borough Market.) This was one of them.

There seemed to be only two places worth eating in Windermere, according to our guidebooks.  On Saturday, we dined at Francine's, a lively and informal place presided over by the eponymous Francine, who filled us in on local cheese lore.  The meal included daube of venison.

The next two nights, we ate at Jericho's, a "restaurant with rooms" (we should have stayed there!), a mom and pop place in an old Victorian house, more like a country house in atmosphere. (You gather in the lounge and read the menu there.)  These two meals were fabulous: pea risotto, duck breast, a vegetarian risotto with cauliflower and fava beans.  Inventive, simple, delicious!

We had hoped to spend a day riding bikes, and booked two Trek hybrids from the bike hire station at Windermere station for our last day there.  Fortunately, it was a brilliant day, partly sunny and cool.  The hire place offered a well-described 20 mile route for road riding, taking us south and east through pastures, bridle paths, and country roads.  The first part took us through pastures where we had to lock and unlock gates (see the sheep photo above), and then we got to the first very hilly part.  Very hilly!  The impeccable instructions warned us to control our speed on the descents. Very steep!  Our route took us clockwise around to the small village of Crook, and then on to Crossthwaite, both sites of highly recommended pubs, but it was still too early in the morning for lunch.  On to Bowland Bridge, and up another steep hill (I can admit that I mostly pushed my bike up these), to the Mason's Arms.  The view throughout this route was less lake dominated, but rather we could see rolling hills, sheep pastures, valleys, and picturesque villages, as in this view from just above the Mason's Arms.

Unfortunately, it was here we made our only big mistake.  Instead of taking the small road below the inn, we missed it, and pushed on up and up and up and up above the inn.  We kept looking for the indicated crossroads marked "Bowness," which would signal the start of a few short climbs.  This very long climb was already impossible!  Much cursing and gnashing of teeth.  Finally we reached a clear landmark, a forestry plantation, and realized it was not on our route, and we had taken the wrong turn.  Riding down the down and down and down was alternately exhilarating and scary, and it took only 10 minutes from the time we turned around to get back to the Inn.  From there we found the correct route, and eventually rode up to another pub, the "Brown Horse" in Winster, just at lunchtime.  Since we still had a few miles to cover (and a country house detour to make), we forewent the local ale, but had delicious lunches of smoked salmon with all the accompaniments (R) and grilled mussels (me).  In all of these places, we were happy ordering only starters, but it seemed that the locals were having either sandwiches or full meals.
From here, we pushed on to Blackwell, once the country home of a Manchester beer magnate, Holt, built in 1900 in Arts and Crafts style, and restored and opened to the public only 10 years ago.  Built up on the hillside above Lake Windermere, it has wonderful views, fabulous detail: tiles, carpets, door handles.  It very much reminded us of Falling Water, or as a plausible precursor.  Back to the bike hire shop by 3:45, and exhilarated by our achievement.
We would leave the next morning to return to London and start the final leg of our stay in a new flat at 145 Drury Lane.