It’s the end of January and the UK is experiencing terrible snowfall that wouldn’t even be considered news in other countries but gets the front page here. But it has been pretty cool, I must admit. Gotta like a bit of snow, aintcha. This week David Cameron has offered the UK a referendum on membership of the EU should he be re-elected next time, and, in even more amazing news, we’ve been making jam.
Chris and I are in Dorset, on a jam-making trip, and currently at Millers Farm Store, in their café. We are told that they are opening a ‘real’ café soon, after a bunch of months, that this ‘isn’t really their café’. But, sssh, we entreat: with its AGA, fireplace, and farmshop sundries spreading off towards the distant corners of the room, this quiant corner café is right on.
Purists might hesitate when faced with the coffee. It’s coffee machine coffee, perhaps losing the important touch of a skillful barista. It is however a well balanced brew and at £1.30 leaves you with enough coins in your pocket so as to not to worry about floating away on a strong breeze.
Mister Miller is the man who opened Millers. And as he tallies up our stock, this beared and friendly chap’s eyes perk up when we tell him of the jam we make, and with the tone of a devilish wizard, he invites us to bring in a sample or two. We accept the challenge. His daughter, Rachael, is equally enthused, and we feel pretty good right now about Jammatology’s start to 2013. I believe it was Voltaire who said: ‘When all is falling apart like brittle glass, make jam. For jam is the adhesive for life’s fractures.’ (He didn’t say that, by the way).
Everyone knows you go a bit crazy if you spend more than a week in Dorset, but I’m a Dorset Lightweight, and so I’m a loon after a day and a half.