Week 22 - Polpo

This week's #cookbookchallenge is from a much-loved classic; Polpo. A cookbook gifted to me by Stealth that features Venetian inspired recipes from the London-based restaurant chain that, as I sit writing this, I realise I still haven't actually ever visited. Although Spuntino (RIP), where I remember spending a perfect afternoon with Stealth and several negronis, was a favourite.  

In fact, it's such a firm favourite that it turns out I have already written about it on this very blog, way back in 2013. Which feels like a lifetime ago now (in fact, despite priding myself on my elephant-like memory, I did actually have to search back to check and it seems I made a fennel and chickpea soup I have absolutely no recollection of). I also particularly liked the picture of a negroni, in the snow on my front lawn.

One dish that I really wanted to try was the fritto misto. Squid rings, whitebait and shell on prawns, dusted in flour and dipped into a mixture of egg whites and sparkling water before being deep fried in vegetable oil and served with a spritz of fresh lemon. What could go wrong?

Well, pretty much everything. But I did manage to cobble together all the ingredients (more difficult than it may sound in the midst of a pandemic) and cook it - along with some sticks of courgette, which also feature on the Polpo menu as a popular side order - and get everything in and out of a boiling cauldron of oil without any serious burns occurring. I think it was almost worth it as I ate the fruits of my labour in the garden, along with a chilled vino blanco.

There were also some simpler options, aided and abetted by top class ingredients from The Italian Shop in Maidenhead, which is an Aladdin's cave of wonderfulness, and has helped keep me sane on essential shopping trips to buy pasta and fruit and veg (and cannolis).

First a bruschetta (on homemade sourdough) with stracchino cheese - a fresh cheese made of cow's milk that was a first for me. Slightly chewy, I'd liken it to a cheese spread on steroids. Which is a pretty great thing. The recipe paired it with fennel salami and fresh figs, and it was the perfect mix of salty, creamy, crunchy and sweet.

I also dusted the mandolin off and (carefully) cut radishes and fennel into wafer thin slices, which I then draped over a pile of fresh Sicilian ricotta, topped with chopped fresh mint leaves. The ricotta was transcendental; like eating a tangy cloud of loveliness, set off with the fresh bite from the veg. 

Of course, I couldn't neglect the classic Polpo meatballs and tomato sauce. If you came to visit Chez Famy circa 2013, there was a pretty high chance you were going to get a bowl of this. In fact, there's a pretty high chance you still might.

I still make the sauce (which is still my favourite) in exactly the same way with three tins of tomatoes (occasionally, I also throw in a few fresh ones, if it's the right time of year and I've got them to hand), an onion, a couple of cloves of garlic, a glug of olive oil, a pinch of sugar and a pinch of chilli flakes. Salt and black pepper to taste. after it's finished cooking, I add fresh oregano from the garden and whizz with the stick blender until it resembles a certain well known brand of tinned tomato soup. 

I'm still not sure why something so simple is so quite so good; but it is. At Polpo they serve a plate of the meatballs with the sauce and a toothpick and let you get on with it, but I prefer to make mine slightly smaller than the recipe and serve with spaghetti and fresh flat leaf parsley, which is growing in abundance on my patio at the moment. There aren't many dishes I make more than once, but this has remained a firm favourite. Stay tuned for the 2027 update, to see if it's still on the menu.

Week 15 - Feast - Nigella Lawson

As a Good Catholic Girl, it always has to be fish on Good Friday. Normally we would be spending Easter with my Aunt and Uncle and assorted cousins in their little village just outside Leeds. Drinking wine and eating my Aunt's simnel cake and my Uncle's seafood extravaganza, with shellfish fresh from Kirkgate Market.

As staying at home has become our new normal, at least for now, I turned again to the wonderful Nigella and made my riff on her Blakean fish pie, from her Easter chapter in Feast.

Choosing a favourite book of hers would be akin to choosing a favourite child, but this is a good one, with the chapters arranged to celebrate various different feasts throughout the year. It also contains a whole chapter on chocolate cakes, which would make a great #cookbookchallenge, but probably when I can leave the house more than once a day, so I can make sure I will actually still fit through the door...

I have to say, of all my challenges so far, this is the first one that really only paid a mere nod to the recipe (although my wife thinks I fail to follow any instructions, I have been quite disciplined so far...) In fact, although I did briefly skim the recipe, the whole making a stock to poach the fish and the bouquet garni and reducing down saffron-infused cream seemed rather a faff for Nigella. It was certainly too much faff for me.

So I (whisper it) used frozen fish pie mix for the first time, picked up on my weekly shop, and cooked the chunks of cod, smoked haddock and salmon from frozen, along with a bag of frozen prawns. To the fish I added a leek-infused bechamel sauce, and topped with saffron mash. Which gave it a pleasing hue inspired by the title. Although I hadn't made a fish pie before (scarred by the boiled egg-studded pies of my youth, it was excellent. And very easy.

Amy's Blakean Fish Pie (adapted from Nigella Lawson's Feast)

1 kg floury potatoes, peeled and cut into large, even chunks

butter and seasoning to taste

Good pinch of saffron threads, soaked in a little warm milk

1 (400g) bag of frozen fish pie mix or equivalent chunks of fresh fish of your choice

1 (250g) bag of frozen prawns (medium, for preference)

2 leeks, cleaned and chopped into rings and cooked gently in butter until soft

50g butter

50g flour

500ml milk (I used semi-skimmed)

1 tbsp mustard (dijon or wholegrain)

salt and pepper

Boil the potatoes until soft, mash with butter and seasoning to taste and stir in the saffron infused milk.

Melt the butter in a sauce pan on a medium heat, add the flour and stir to make a roux. Cook out for several minutes.

Slowly whisk in the milk, stirring continuously, until the sauce has thickened.

Add the mustard and cooked leeks, season and stir well. (Cover the sauce with cling film if not using straight away, to stop a skin forming).

Place fish pie mix and prawns in a dish (I used a le Creuset casserole dish).

Add bechamel sauce and stir well to combine.

Top with mashed potato, making sure there are no gaps. I like to fluff my mash with a fork to make wavy lines.

Cook in a pre-heated 180c oven for about 40 minutes, or until top is brown and the centre is hot and bubbling.

Eat with peas. Always peas. And maybe a glass of Picpoul.

Smoke on the water

Forgive me father, it's been a while since my last blog post. Mostly as I've got toothache and the Ewing's got a new job. I've relayed things in that order as (as you might imagine) that's the priority they are receiving in our household. 

While it hasn't been all fun and games recently - lots of tinned ravioli and antibiotics for me and lots of long hours for her - I was hoping that going to the seaside for a celebratory seafood lunch (some of the Ewing's favourite things) in sunny Southwold with me (her favourite thing) would be just the ticket for both of us.

The Sole Bay Company can be found by Southwold Harbour, a pleasant stroll from the pier (the Under the Pier Show is a must), along the main beach and across the dunes. Comprised of four semi-derelict fisherman's shacks knocked together, the interior is rustic yet comfy; with jugs of water (which the Ewing still contrived to miss) and rolls of kitchen towel laid on each table, alongside freshly cut flowers. 

To get to the loos you have to trek back outside and up some steps (all while remembering the code). So I was thankful for clement weather; and the fact I was on the antibiotics and therefore off the booze and able to navigate the shingle without incident.

While I might have had a pain in my tooth, I wasn't suffering alone. The Ewing also had a pain, this time self-inflicted, from bowling headfirst straight into a wooden post after being distracted by the fishmonger's slab that greets you as you walk through the entrance.

And who could blame her; it's a beautiful sight, featuring a spanking fresh array of locally caught fish and seafood, much of it smoked just next door. As well as being available in the restaurant there is also all available to take away and prepare at home.

Specials, slightly unnervingly, are chalked up on the sides of a huge fish tank that lines the dining area. On our visit, these included beer battered oysters and mussels, both of which the table next to us ordered, and both of which looked excellent.

And so to our drinks, and a toast to my very lovely, and very talented wife. A large glass of Picpoul for the her and a (non-alcoholic) Ghost Ship for me; brewed at the Adnams Brewery, not more than stone's throw away, and where we took a tour in 2014, on our last visit to town. 

The closest low-alcohol drink option back then was probably a bitter shandy, but no-booze is a much bigger thing now. I'm happy to report that this made the perfect option for someone who is off the sauce but still fancies a lunchtime pint, tasting commendably similar to the full ABV version.

To eat we chose a seafood platter; while they offer many set choices, many involve whelks and winkles, so we went off piste and created our own to avoid the rubbery lumps of cold sea snot that nether of us actually like.

Instead we chose a magnificent platter pield high with a whole smoked mackerel; a pile of shell on prawns, hot smoked salmon, a cromer crab; two crevettes; and two giant roll mops in their own silver sauce boats. There was also an, apparently, excellent warm loaf, served whole with a bread knife and plenty of butter. But you'd have to ask my wife as I could only nibble at a crust.

Even though I was under the weather, I rallied around when the food appeared and I can report that was all quite as excellent as it appeared; the mackerel and the tranche of bronzed salmon the colour of the winner of a reality show being particular highlights. There was also a small shoal of silvery sprats, a small oily fish that has fallen from favour which the Ewing beheaded with a flourish and swallowed with gusto.

Crustacean wise the duo of crevettes certainly looked the part, but at two quid each, didn't quite live up to the billing. Just order another portion of the sweet shell on prawns instead for the same price. And make sure you bring your wife to peel them for you....

Astonishingly, I only seem to have three of photos of the food - consisting of the fish platter taken from a different angles and the fish platter after the Ewing attacked it. I must have been ill. You can also see she (with a little help) did a pretty good job. I must also give her credit for patiently peeling things and checking for bones and shell and just patiently putting up with me generally; although that did meant she got the lion's share of the fish for herself. 

They are also more than happy to pack up any leftovers to take home, so she even got to enjoy the roll mops and the sprats with the leftover crusty bread the following evening. While I ate soup and yogurt and looked on with mixed envy/disgust.

A wonderful lunch with the most wonderful person, finished by a brisk walk along the sand. As you can see, the sea air certainly had some kind of effect on the Ewing's mood; or maybe that's just the result of having to put up with me. That's certainly one job she already excels at.

Sugar and Smoke

What’s a bank holiday without a fractious trip on the M25 to see relatives - punctuated by a stopping off for a ‘relaxing’ meal and a few drinks, all while getting suitably lost en route. I mean is it even a bank holiday without an argument about what music to play in the car and which way you should have gone at the last roundabout, before lunchtime?

Our venue for a late summer bank holiday squabble (the last opportunity until Christmas) was the Maldon Smokehouse. A traditional smokehouse - tucked down a quiet little lane - that offers a succinct menu of cured fish, meat and cheeses, plus a few hot dishes, in a secluded spot overlooking the river Chelmer. Real Robinson Crusoe stuff, if you can ignore the fact you're actually still in an estuary town somewhere in East Essex.

It’s an utterly idyllic location, conveniently ignoring the tiled roof of Tesco’s peering out from the foliage across the water and the gentle hum of the A414 in the distance . Auspiciously, on our visit at the fag-end of August, the English weather was clement enough to sit out in shirt sleeves and enjoy the last warming rays of summer sun.

It’s unlicensed, but they let you BYO - with no charge, and our arrival was swiftly heralded by a cheery greeting - a special shout must go to the service, which throughout was as sweet as the seafood - and the appearance of an ice bucket, filled with ice, and glasses for our bottle of verdicchio. A very civilised start to proceedings.

I went classic with the crevette, prawn and smoked salmon combo; three slices of hand carved salmon, a pile of plump Crustacea and a dish of marie rose sauce - not far away from being my perfect desert island starter (I’d add some wobbly aioli, for extra dipping; and maybe some barbecued squid and scallops, cos why not).

It was all utterly lovely; the thick-cut fish had a pleasingly robust texture and firmness and a delicate smokiness, while the sweet prawns were very pleasing when dunked in the retro sauce. Best of all were the crevettes (a word with a seemingly interchangeable definition, taken here to mean ‘larger prawn’), which were like the prawns on steroids and accordingly exceptional.

The Ewing’s Seafood Overboard platter included salmon, prawns (peeled and unpeeled), mackerel, crayfish and a choice of crevettes or half a Norfolk crab. Again, it was all great, although a special shout out to the mackerel, which was buttery and delicate in comparison to the more familiar thwack of smoke from industrially produced fish (although my jaded taste buds do have a soft spot for a liberally-peppered mackerel fillet with a good squeeze of lemon). 

The crayfish was also surprisingly perky and delightful (does anyone really like crayfish), managing to not taste disappointingly like fishy cotton wool. And of course the Ewing had hours of fun (literally), dissecting her prawns in the manner of Dr Lecter.

To finish we shared the only pud on their menu (although, they do have Rossis ice cream and smoked cheeses) , a honeycomb cheesecake studded with chunks of chocolate and shards of cinder toffee and served with lashings of chocolate sauce and an entirely superfluous – although very welcome – ball of vanilla ice cream. 

The texture was more airy, like a frozen parfait, than the dense and claggy cheesecake I normally prefer (Waitose New York style, eaten on the sofa, normally in a state of semi-undress) but this version made the perfect palette cleanser after all the salt and smoke.

Ping pong and prawns may not be a classic combination, but adjacent to the cosy indoor restaurant area you can also find a games room, complete with table tennis tables that can be hired for a fiver an hour - the Ewing fancied a burl, but I needed more time for lunch to go down before attempting any Forest Gump style acrobatics. There’s also fussball, if you fancy something a little more sedentary (tbf, I normally find watching Spurs on the TV exhausting enough).

It's a strictly cash only enterprise, and luckily we manage to scrape together enough moolah to pay the bill and have some pocket change left for a couple of goodies from their takeaway counter, deciding, after much deliberation, on smoked duck breast and smoked Stilton - although the honey coloured wedges of brie and silvery whole mackerel were very tempting. Perfect for a ploughman’s lunch when we were back home, contemplating the sudden onslaught of autumn.

The fact the Ewing was driving meant I got the lion’s share of the wine, something she bore with exceedingly good grace after enduring a drunken trip to the supermarket, with me stumbling up and down the aisles, picking up improbably flavoured crisps after our meal. 

Thankfully bickering was averted on the rest of our journey, mainly as I was occupied by serenading her with a tuneless version of Saturday Love as we drove through Thetford Forest (where I took the part of both Alex, and Cherelle). I would say it was special treat for high days and holidays – but it’s pretty much every Saturday, in our house… sugar.

Crispy Duck

Every time I see my Leeds-based Aunt and Uncle they seem to have a story about their most recent visit to London - a story which usually includes going to ‘Crispy Duck’ on Gerard Street, their favourite dim sum spot for more years than my aunt would care for me to tell you. And every time I hear about it I think I need to get to Chinatown to try it out for myself. Before completely failing to do so.

Of course food and failure are not compatible concepts in my mind - especially when it involves missing out on copious amounts of saturated animal fat with a side order of those puffy little pork buns that have become the Ewing's must order - so when we recently found ourselves tired and hungry somewhere around Shaftesbury Avenue, there was only one place we were going to end up.

Auspiciously, our visit wasn't long after my Uncle’s 70th birthday celebrations - where we had all walked from the Southbank to Piccadilly and I had asked my Uncle to point out the restaurant to me when our route took us up Wardour Street. 

Not that it would have hard to miss, with the big yellow letters and the hooks of roasted poultry hanging up in the window. Although, from the larger, more discrete, sign above the door, it appears the official name is the more prosaic 'Oversea Chinese Restaurant'.

Set on three floors, we were led down to the basement dining area, where the clientele was comprised of fifty per cent Chinese couples, studiously eating dumplings; and fifty per cent couples on first dates, eating the set banquet for two while making nervous conversation. With a raucous family reunion thrown in for good measure. 

All of which provided a lively atmosphere and the perfect mix for people watching - although the distractions made attempting to fill in our choice of dumplings on the carbon paper slip with the little Argos ball point pen more difficult than usual. Luckily the pictures and corresponding numbers on the menu made things a little easier.

The Ewing, who was sporting one less tooth than the week before, was mainly sticking to a liquid diet (something that’s very easy with my Aunt and Uncle around…) and so started with a small bowl of wonton soup.  While I didn’t sample the soup – 'good and gingery' was the verdict – the wonton I managed to snaffle was plump and tight and stuffed with bouncy prawns and minced pork.

From the roast meat and rice menu I paired the eponymous flying avian with a helping of roast pork belly. The duck, as its name suggests, had a crisp, lacquered carapace which gave way to the soft and sticky meat underneath. The pork belly was even better; wobbling chunks of meat striped with thick ribbons of fat and edged with crispy skin.

Ask for their (super hot) homemade chilli oil, which, along with the soy sauce served with the rice, provides a foil to cut through the richness. This isn't food for the faint-hearted.

When I first got together with the Ewing my two favourite things (apart from her of course) were burritos and turnip cake; two of the only things she didn't really like. Subsequently I've had a Mexican wrap and Chinese snack-shaped hole in my life for the past eight years. 

Because of the recent dental work, my wife had already announced she 'wasn't going to eat much', so I took this as the perfect opportunity to order the stir fried turnip cake with chilli sauce, beansprouts, spring onion and finely shredded omelette. Unfortunately, not only did she decide she was quite peckish after all, but she also liked this dish as much as I did. Fortunately it was a huge portion and, well, sharing is caring.

Scallop cheung fun were fine, although retrospectively I wish I'd chosen the barbecued pork version as the bivalve/rice noodle combo was a little too slippery and slithery. More successful were the XO prawn and scallop dumplings with truffle and better still the delicate beef and ginger wontons.

We also ordered char siu buns, which have been the Ewing's favourite ever since we went to Hong Kong a few years ago. These were decent, if unspectacular. Although after years of ordering them every time we go out for dim sum, I think I can safely say I've reached peak pork bun. (Surely not possible - TE)

I've been on my aunt's team at the pub quiz and she doesn't often get things wrong, and her recommendation here is no exception. Good value, central location and, food-wise and it does exactly what it says on the tin - Crispy Duck looks like remaining a family favourite for a few more years to come.

Keep Portland Weird - all the pubs pt.2

After the excitement of our first night trying to hit up all the pubs on Portland, we had taken Sunday off to recover*. Perhaps because of the alcohol, or a creeping concession to old age, the Ewing and I had woken up unusually early on Monday morning and decided to go down to Smallmouth Cove to watch a beautiful sun rise over Portland. A promising start to what was shaping up to be another sunny day.

*Drink excessive amounts of cider and rum with our friends in Weymouth.

After a hearty breakfast of sausage, egg, beans, mushrooms and toast, followed by a fortifying nap, we resumed our adventure by taking our tattered map and hopping on the number 1 bus right down to Southwell, the farthest point you can reach on public transport, for lunch at the Eight Kings.

The front bar - there’s also a plusher restaurant, with a nautical theme, next door – has the comforting feeling of what I would describe as a ‘Bank’s pub’, based on the detective in the Peter Robinson novels. Banks - most notably in the earlier books, set in the 80's when he was still a smoker and drinking on the job seemed more mandatory than an option, would often find himself in a good old traditional pub of a lunchtime, eating a cottage pie and supping a pint of Black Sheep bitter, before going off to solve a murder in the afternoon.

While I really enjoyed the atmosphere of the place, and our pints of Ringwood bitter were well kept, the food was even better, the giant mound of Portland crab exceeding even the size of my buttery jacket spud. My standout meal of the trip, for its simplicity and generosity and because it was enjoyed in such friendly and laid-back surroundings. A pub I would be very pleased to call my local, and I’m sure Banks would have felt the same way.

The Eight Kings - 2x pint Ringwood Best Bitter; 2x jacket potato with Portland crab and salad £23.60

Sticky carpet rating: 8 a proper pub with darts board (although someone would have your eye out if you were sat where we were sitting), a second hand book shelf, scrumpy cider and a log fire. The swanky restaurant bit means it’s not full on SC but it’s pretty close, in the best possible way.

Overall score: 8.5 - a great place for a pint and a spot of lunch, I would be very happy to mull away an afternoon here while puzzling over the clues of my latest case.

As we had taken the bus as far as we could the only way to get down to the southern tip of the island was to walk. While the quickest way is straight down the Portland Bill Road, we chose the scenic route beside the sea and picked up the South Coast Path from Freshwater Bay. 

The perfect day for a walk, it was fascinating to walk through the open cast quarries and to see the old Victorian beam crane still perched on the cliff edge. Stone has been quarried on Portland since Roman times and has been used in the construction of many fine buildings and monuments including St. Paul’s Cathedral, Buckingham Palace, The Bank of England and the Cenotaph. All the gravestones for British personnel killed in the First and Second World Wars were also made out of Portland stone, including my Grandad, Harry Roscoe, in Barking Rippleside cemetery.

The destination for our next repast was the Lobster Pot Cafe, at the farthest tip of the isle. Being as this was Portland, we had to weigh up the choice of eating inside in a pleasant enough, if a little stuffy, tearoom or risk being buffeted by wind while sitting outside but being able to enjoy a smashing view of the Bill in the late sunshine. In the end the scenery won out and we braved eating our cream tea on the picnic benches outside; squinting into the sun while wrapped up with scarves and woolly hats, in that typically English fashion.

The crumbly, raisin-studded, scones are homemade and were very good, despite being wildly varying in size (we split each in one in half and shared them, to avert any marital discord). Jam (all the way from Tiptree in Essex) and cream are provided in reasonably generous quantities, and top marks for the pot of hot water, plus extra refills, for our tea, which is served good and strong with proper tea leaves.

In an ideal world we would have had a decent yomp, or at least a leisurely stroll, to our next watering station, but the imposing Pulpit Inn -  with its prime spot offering sweeping panoramas across to the south of the island - can be seen from the Lobster Pot Cafe. No matter, we had faced more gruelling culinary challenges before, and it had been at least couple of hours since our last pint…

The ale selection was pretty lacking (they might have stocked Doombar?), despite the sign promising real ales, but they did have Guinness Dublin style porter on tap, which I fancied as a suitable accompaniment to the half a pint of local prawns that the Ewing had spied on the chalkboard on the way in.

The prawns were OK, not that I got much of a look in, but the chips (which you can swap for a salad if you’re in to self-flagellation) were hot and crisp and very tasty when dunked into the tangy marie rose sauce. The Dublin porter was so-so, thinner and less creamy than the original and not as good as their other recent re-release, the West Indies porter, which is actually pretty good. Service was very sweet and while it has apparently become more of an eating pub in recent years, I found it welcoming and homely, despite the size.

The Pulpit Inn – 2x pints Guinness Dublin style porter; half a pint of prawns with chips and baguette £15.80

Sticky carpet rating: 5 – apparently much spiffier than it used to be the pulpit still has a few SC attributes; the old-fashioned pay phone in the corridor; paper-less ladies loos (soon replenished on mentioning); second-hand book shelf and a comprehensive charity box collection.

Overall score: 6.5 lovely barmaid, average food on our visit and an ok beer selection. An extra half point for the view - try and get a spot by the window if you can.

In an attempt to placate my wife after an afternoon of gluttony I allowed her to test out her compass reading skills by letting her lead us around the western edge of the South Coast Path (it's really not that hard - TE). Despite my general aversion to physical exercise, it was a pleasure to walk along the cliff edge from the tip of the island to Fortuneswell. 

Our route took us through the sculpture park, located in the disused Tout quarry, which is stuffed full of carvings made of Portland local stone including the island's nemesis, the bunny rabbit. We even saw a local craftsman (but WAS he? - TE) at work, chipping away at the rocks. As an added bonus our trek ended by watching the sun set over the ocean in a perfect mirroring of how our day had begun.

While the day may have been over, the night had just begun and the first pub we reached walking down the hill into Fortuneswell was the Britannia. From the sign on the outside - promising home cooked food, real ale and a beer garden - this looked like the perfect pub. They even had an a frame advertising live music and, sticky carpet classic, the meat raffle, every Sunday afternoon.

On walking in - or more squeezing around the guy stood by the door, deep in conversation and the only one seemingly oblivious to us entering – we experienced, for the first time on our trip, the real feeling of not being a local. The guys playing darts put down their arrows, the guys at the bar looked up from the pints, the barmaid – the only other female in the place – exhaled a deep breath and picked up her crucifix. Well, maybe not the crucifix, but you get the general idea (one of those moments when your brain is screaming BACK AWAY, SAVE YOURSELF' and you merrily plough on - TE). They had sussed we ‘weren’t from around these parts’.

Undeterred, we made it to the bar, to be faced with yet another uninspiring ale selection (again, they may have had Doombar?) the lager selection was odd, most people drinking bottle of Holsten Pils. But worry not, as I had already spotted the Old Rosie cider and fancied that a pint would make a fitting reward for our trek. The Ewing also ordered a pint, despite my misgivings that the last time she had got stuck into the stuff, during a daytime drinking session, it had all ended badly on the 16:52 from Marylebone (poppycock! - TE).

The Britannia Inn - 2x pints Old Rosie cider £6.20

Sticky carpet rating: 7.5 darts, pool, live bands, meat raffle on a Sunday - We might have got a few quizzical looks at first, but the locals were soon happy to chat with us, including one guy at the bar who relished telling the Ewing the Old Rosie was 6.8%. More of that later...

Overall score: 5.5 after the strange stares that greeted our arrival at the Brit, they turned out to be a pretty friendly bunch. An entertaining place, although it did feel like a real ‘locals’ pub. An extra half point for the Old Rosie.

All the pubs in Fortuneswell (along with the British Legion) are found on the same short stretch of hill, which made winding our way down to the Royal Portland Arms mercifully easy. The building is Grade II listed and interior-wise this was my pick of all the pubs we visited; the inside resembling a 70s style parlour with wood panelling and patterned wallpaper, complete with cosy little alcove complete with a dart board and a space to host live music at the weekends. 

The ale choice at the RPA was strong, with three or four local breweries on show on our visit alongside West Country cider served straight from a box on the bar. Wanting to try the beer while avoiding the bloat, I had the cunning idea of moving to our next beverage combination; doubles and chasers....

The Royal Portland Arms - 2x halves Branscombe golden fiddle; 2x Mountgay Eclipse rum on the rocks £7.50

Sticky carpet rating: 8 dart board, real ales and ciders; live music at the weekends and dog friendly, just be careful you don’t put your foot down the drain on the way back from the ladies…

Overall score: 8.5 A cracking pub with a unique atmosphere, helped by the entertaining clientele on our visit. With one of the best selections of ales we saw, this is definitely the sort of place I could imagine settling down for a session.

Final stop was the New Star Inn, but not before we bumped into the man we had met at the bar of the Britannia coming out of the chippy. And I mean that literally, as the Ewing ran past him whooping and waving her hands in the air as he called, 'that's the Old Rosie' after her. 

Inside was buzzing with one half of the pub hosting a frenetic darts match and the other side featuring darts on tv. Although pretty rowdy, the atmosphere was friendly and the Ewing attracted her second drunken barfly of our trip as we waited for our drinks, although I'm not sure which one of them was the most inebriated this time.

We stuck to the double and chasers, chasing the drinks with packets of mustard and onion pretzels, and maple bacon flavour Kettle chips. Rum-wise I hit the Pussers Navy strength while the Ewing discovered Old J spiced; something she was initially very happy about, but less so as the evening went on and she began to feel less ship-shape. Still, for the second time on our tour, there was still the 'refreshing' walk back to the mainland to contemplate; along with the sore head the following morning.

The New Star Inn - 2x half Jurassic ale; 2x Sailor J rum on the rocks; 1 Kracken rum on the rocks 1 x Pussers Navy rum on the rocks; 1x Snyder’s pretzels onion and mustard flavour; 1 x Kettle chips bacon and maple syrup flavour £13.50

Sticky carpet rating: 6.5 darts being played in the pub, darts being played on the TV, pool table, lots of friendly locals propping up the bar

Overall score 8. Very lively atmosphere on our visit, helped by a knowledgeable barmaid, some good 90's tunes on the jukebox and solid selection of crisps and snacks. Oh, and the rum…