No need for me to prepare a family Sunday dinner today. Frances, Stew and the two little angels are away in Scarborough this weekend - partly to celebrate Stew's thirty sixth birthday.
Shirley wanted to go out somewhere for our Sunday meal so I booked a table at "The Lescar" on Sharrowvale Road. I had not been in there in years but when I first came to Sheffield in 1978 I knew it well as I lived just around the corner in a rental house with five women.
Anyway, I wasn't quite sure what to expect with the Sunday dinner. We arrived quite early and the first signs were good. The waiting staff greeted us warmly and we were led to our table in the lounge.
I noticed several things. There was a posy of fresh flowers in a small glass vase and a carafe of water with a few lumps of ice floating within. They sparkled in a shaft of sunlight. The paper menus were fresh and clean and did not contain any spelling or grammatical errors - unlike some blogs I could mention!
Our drinks were brought to us by a Russian waitress called Olga. From the main menu, I picked the special lamb roast "recommended by Aaron, our chef" but Shirley chose the vegetarian nut roast option.
A five minute wait and our meals appeared - looking very inviting upon white plates. The vegetables were piled centrally - roasted carrots, parsnips and potatoes with cabbage leaves and we each had a homemade Yorkshire pudding. There was also "jus" in tiny saucepans though I call that culinary brown lubricant - gravy. It was all delightful.
Afterwards, I had room for a traditional apple and rhubarb crumble - again clearly homemade - with a dollop of vanilla ice cream.
At the bar, as I was paying the bill, the young barman asked how our meals had been and I said, "Surprisingly very good!" which he laughed about. I explained that I had not been in "The Lescar" in years. However, as we drove away in The Clintmobile, Shirley and I agreed that we will be back before long.
It was so nice to have a faultless Sunday meal, prepared with "love" by a capable chef and to drive away feeling more than satisfied. Inside, "The Lescar" has hardly changed in the forty seven years since I first stepped over its threshold. It was named after a mill wheel that once turned very close-by on The River Porter which is really just a stream.
from Yorkshire Pudding https://ift.tt/7PjZKYp
