The skinny on Devonshire Cream

Rose Cottage, Cockington Village, Torquay

....................first of all let me tell you, if you overindulge in this Devon delicacy you will not be skinny!! However, the delicacies of life need to be savoured, in small quantities.

Several readers would like to know more about this type of cream, a thick, golden-crusted, spreadable, delectable topping. Most Westcountry natives are addicted to clotted cream and enjoy expounding the merits of what is considered the regional dish of Devon. There is Cornish cream too - I'll leave that story for a Cornish friend!

Real clotted cream is made solely in the Westcountry where the mild climate, rich rolling pastures, and right breed of dairy cattle, create milk with a very high cream content. The rich cream is allowed to rise to the top of the milk, skimmed off into shallow pans, then 'scalded' over simmering water until it thickens and develops a deep gold crust. The cream is similar to soft butter and is of course its best when served on nothing more than the perfect scone. Don't be coerced into purchasing those little sealed jars of so-called Devon Clotted Cream in the import section of a US grocery store. This is nothing like the real thing, which never has additives or preservatives, and can only be truly enjoyed in Devon.

So pack a suitcase and plan that trip across the pond soon!

OK. You did it....packed that bag and bought that ticket, best investment you ever made!

As you drive Devon's countryside, along the narrow lanes and through the villages of thatched cottages, you will see the sign...............Devon Cream Teas. It's sometimes hit or miss and you may not get the perfect one every time, however if it's a farm, a little outdoor tearoom next to a rose covered cottage home, or a commercial venture such as country hotel or restaurant, you will enjoy your afternoon tea I'm certain. Perhaps even more important than the cream is the scone. Usually you are offered a choice, plain or fruit - always make sure they're freshly baked and served barely warm - so the cream doesn't slide off. The jam should be strawberry, thick with fruit, and home-made is always best.

Your tea should be served in a proper teapot. A good afternoon blend with some Assam will provide the strength to compliment a cream tea and wash down all that sugar - therefore you don't need to add sugar to the tea. Milk is optional. The British usually add a little milk, never cream, to their cup of tea. Oh yes, afternoon tea should always be served in a pretty china cup with saucer, no mugs please!

4:00 PM. It's teatime.

Your tea arrives, someone plays 'mother' and pours you a cuppa. You split your scone in two horizontally, spread each cut side with about half an inch of clotted cream, then add a teaspoon of strawberry jam. The first bite is wonderful, you are hooked. You suddenly understand what teatime is all about and you are happy to be in beautiful Devon enjoying, among many other delights, a perfect Devon Cream Tea.

Thankful for good health.......

You wake early morning, roll over, try to breathe, and immediately you know something is not quite right. That was me last Sunday. Here it is a week later. Life has carried on about me. Even without me. I fought the nasty bug which crept into my chest and caused me to cough until I thought my ribs were cracked. Did I pick it up on the plane coming back? Possibly. Perhaps I should have joined the masked crowd at Heathrow airport - there were many who had enough sense to protect their precious lungs.

As much as I dislike having to be medicated, especially with antibiotics, I feel safer knowing I do not have Swine 'Flu, and hopefully a few more days will have me back to normal. Meanwhile, fresh fruits and veggies are what I'm eating - this beautiful Swiss Chard in a fresh farm eggs omelette was good last night.

My favorite little 'under the weather' snack is always the one from childhood, a slice of crispy brown toast with butter of course, and real marmalade, slightly tart with chewy pieces of chopped orange peel, accompanied by a nice cup of hot tea.

And then I slept.......and slept, I've never spent so many hours in the realm of dreams and rest. They say it's the best thing for a sick body, the way to regain health and vigor.

When we're not our usual selves due to sickness or stress, we often act differently. I know I've been a pain this past week - forgive me DH! I just hate being ill and not able to do the many things that stare me in the face each day...........the garden chores, the household chores, the decorating projects on my list, visiting friends at my local antiques/vintage shops etc. I like to be a busy person and hopefully I'll be back with renewed energy soon.

Friday's Favorite Family Foto

Special friends.................forever!

Our dear Mums met at the pre-natal clinic in 1943 and we sweet little girls were born within a couple of weeks of each other. Jackie's family then moved to London but they always came back to Devon for their Summer holidays.................and we kept in touch.

Above, girls in Summer dresses and pigtails.

Below, Jackie and Mary at Goodrington Beach. Photo undated but think it's around 1950.

Above, Jackie and Mary in August 1960, two years before I emigrated to the USA.

Where have all those years gone?

Above, Mary and Jackie a couple of weeks ago in Torquay, England, town of our birth and where Jackie now lives again. I was thrilled when she gave me these b/w photos of us taken so long ago! What a great time we always have when we catch up.....................and we're planning more get-togethers of course!

Visit Deborah at Pictures, Pots & Pens for more Favorite Family Fotos today.

......a real 'Cream Tea'

Before leaving Widecombe a misty rain blew in. Warm shelter with a good cup of tea, or even better, a real Devonshire Cream Tea, was needed........and while the flowering chestnut trees were stunningly beautiful in the rain, their shelter left much to be desired.

At the village green cafe, the entire complement of inside tables was reserved for a soon to arrive huge German tour bus!

There was room at The Old Inn, if you wanted to swig back a cold beer (yes, beer is now chilled in England)..................but no authentic Devonshire Cream Teas.


So, back into our mini-bus - there were eleven of us remember - and off across
Dartmoor in search of teatime treats.

The ponies were pretty, quite at home under damp, gray skies.

The moorland rivers, such as the River Dart, continued to make their way to the sea, babbling over rocks and under ancient granite bridges............

................and then we spotted it, the appropriately named, Edgemoor.........

..............a picturesque country hotel on the edge of the moor. The open windows welcomed one to come inside.

It looked promising. Romantic and a little quirky.....if there hadn't been rain I would have grabbed this delightful garden chair sprinkled with petals.

The gardens were lovely, as English gardens always are.......thanks to a lot of that cool 'misty rain'.

Stunning azaleas, and clematis climbing everywhere.

Our quest was over. The perfect Devon Cream Tea was served in the lounge. China teapots with strong, black steaming tea. Fresh baked scones, light and not too crumbly, homemade strawberry jam.....and generous pots of thick, clotted Devonshire Cream from a nearby farm no doubt. This was as good as it gets....take my word for it.

...more on the Moor

Looking down into the valley, Widecombe-in-the-Moor appears as a green oasis after crossing miles of heather and gorse covered windswept moorland. The name is thought to derive from 'Withy-combe' which means Willow Valley. There are just 196 village households but its sprawling parish stretches many miles encompassing dozens of isolated cottages and moorland farms.

Tourism is a major source of income for Widecombe today. Best known for Widecombe Fair, held annually and celebrated by a well-known folksong featuring "Old Uncle Tom Cobley and All", a song all Devon children learn at a young age I might add.

The church of St. Pancras is known as the 'Cathedral of the Moor' in recognition of its 120 foot tower and relatively large capacity for such a small village. Originally built in the 14th century in the Perpendicular style (late Gothic) using locally quarried granite, it was enlarged over the following two centuries with proceeds from the tin mining trade. The church was badly damaged in the Great Thunderstorm of 1638 when struck by lightning, killing 4 parishioners and injuring 60. According to local legend, this huge storm was caused by the village being visited by the Devil.

The interior of the church has many decorative roof bosses, including the tinner's emblem of a circle of three hares - known locally as the Tinners' Rabbits.

Beautiful painted wooden screens.
The size of this parish meant that for centuries families were obliged to walk miles to attend services at Widecombe on Sunday. Even more of a challenge was burying their dead. Coffins had to be carried over rough ground and up and down exceptionally steep moorland hills. Halfway up Dartmeet Hill lies the Coffin Stone, close to the road, where the body would be placed to allow bearers to take a rest. This rock is split in two along its length. Local legend says the body of a particularly wicked man was laid there. God took exception to this and struck the stone with a thunderbolt, destroying the coffin and splitting the stone in two.

As today is celebrated as Memorial Day here in the United States of America, I find it fitting to post this image captured inside St. Pancras church. From this tiny Devon village, came ten brave men who gave their lives for Britain in the two World Wars.

Enjoy your Memorial Day holiday..............and please remember our brave service men and women, both past and present....this is the true meaning of the day.

A day on Dartmoor

..............................'A hound it was, an enormous coal-black hound.......fire burst from its open mouth, its eyes glowed with smouldering glare, its muzzle and hackles and dewlap were outlined in flickering flame.' Inspired perhaps by the folk legend of the fiery-eyed black Wisht Hounds, which hunt with the Devil on his headless horse in Wistman's Wood, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle began writing The Hound of the Baskervilles while staying on Dartmoor.

Just a short drive through the rolling green and gold hills of traditional farmland fields girded with drystone walls and hedgerows, one enters Dartmoor National Park. Climbing to the summit of a high tor, one stands on rock that has been 280 million years in the making. This is the land of my childhood, a beautiful and sometimes savage landscape, a place of weekend picnics, Sunday School outings, nature walks.......and those legendary tales of several horror novels.

With its gorse and heather covered moorland, deep wooded gorges, tumbling rocky rivers, thriving market towns and villages, patchwork farmland and craggy granite tors, the park covers 368 square miles - the largest, wildest, area of open country in southern England.

Dartmoor isn't just wild, it's special too. There are nature reserves, sights of Special Scientific Interest, endangered birds and rare plants, and thousands of archaeological sites, including burial chambers, stone circles and menhirs (tall standing stones) - more than anywhere else in Europe. There are remains of mines and quarries, ruined castles. medieval abbeys, ancient churches and bridges.

Pull on your wellies (Wellington boots), the land can be boggy, the heather and gorse prickly, and I'll take you across the High Moors, the central area.


A typical farm on the edge of the moor.

Sheep with their newborn lambs covered the hillside pastures.....................

........................even rested on the moorland roadways, stubborn creatures who refused to move...........

.........and took frequent lunch breaks along the stony walls.

Some showers dampened the day and pictures were taken through raindrops as we cruised across the moorland.
There have been ponies here since 2,000BC. They are untamed but not wild, and are marked with brands, ear tags and ear cuts to identify their owners. Numbers have declined over the last 50 years from 30,000 to less than 3,000, yet they are essential for moorland ecology. I clearly recall newspaper photos from my childhood years showing ponies weathering the Winter snows on the high moor.The magnificent white water of the River Dart is downstream from this area around Dartmeet and Fingle Bridge. On warm Summer afternoons I often picnicked along these banks with friends.

Next time I'll continue the Dartmoor day..............a famous village with a song, and a search for the perfect Devon Cream Tea.................
......................see you in Widecombe-in-the-Moor.

Back to Basics ~ The Garden

The clock counts off the hours. Days of languishing in a foreign land soon become memories. It's back to the familiar schedule, the usual daily chores loom ever present.

The garden grew...did it ever! Pollen continued to quietly pile in the corners dusting everything with yellow. Empty feeders kept the birds at bay, how wonderful when they return within minutes of being refilled. The baby wrens had 'flown the coop' leaving their tidy nest in the kitchen window box..........which now needs replanting with Summer flowers. Summer is on the way. Soon the heat will become oppressive, but for now the mornings are still cool and garden chores are pleasant. The beauty is somewhat blowzy, overgrown, untidy, but gorgeous in a secret garden way. Pruning and trimming will be the order of the day. Old clothes, hair tucked into a hat, soft cotton gloves, and bug repellent at the ready.........those dastardly mosquitoes are back.

Sun is shining, robins chirping, flowering Jasmin perfumes the air.

I'm off to play in the dirt!!!!

All images from the May garden.