North Lincolnshire Food Fair

Lincolnshire was recently voted the UK foodie capital as part of the British Food Fortnight (which ends today, and yes, I should have mentioned something about it sooner!) And it's no wonder, for the last few months tractors loaded with potatoes, rapeseed, corn & barley from the nearby fields have been trundling back & forth our little patch of Lincolnshire (leaving the greatest harvest of all - Road Potatoes. This delicious, easy to forage food occurs on sharp bends & T junctions. The keen-eyed forager with a good rucksack can find several kilo's of Marfona & Maris Piper easily. When not scrumping apples for cider). Yesterday was the annual North Lincolnshire Food Festival, so MikeyFox & I went along.

There was an impressive range of locally produced preserves, cakes, breads, fruity booze, chocolates & beer. And samples of plum bread, marmalade's & alcohol that were nibbled & sipped. Well, it would be rude not to. As well as stalls promoting recycling, local produce, reducing food waste & even cookery demonstrations.
The whole event was held at the Pink Pig, a working farm run by the lovely Sally Jackson & her family. There is an adventure trail where you can get up close & personal with the chickens, pigs, goats & turkeys, a cafe where you can relax & enjoy a slice of home made cake or scones with a nice cuppa, and the incomparable farm shop, where you can purchase Pink Pigs own produced sausages & bacon (if you're into such things), home made preserves & salad dressing, vegetables, eggs, cakes & milk, as well as local cheeses, breads, chocolates, beers, cider & all manner of delicious bits & bobs. If you're ever in the area, do pop in and say hello. And have a slice of the coffee cake.

I'll not be blogging for the next week (yes, yes. You all fell over with shock, I know), as I'll be in Barcelona, subjecting the good people of Catalonia to my terrible Spanish, and gawping at architecture without getting in the way too much. Hopefully upon my return I will be slightly less mad, slightly less skinny, and have shaken the unnerving conviction that Martin Freeman is made of kittens.