Ambyth! Forever...

Ambyth! Ambyth means “forever” in Welsh. Every now and then, it’s nice to find something that you hope will last forever. 

Take for example, a smooth and complex glass of biodynamically grown and harvested Grenache, Syrah, Mouvedre blend, so delightfully fermented in its terra cotta amphora urns that it just eases its way onto your palate, all suave and sophisticated. Fleeting, yes...but the desire for forever is there. 

That’s my experience of my first taste of one of Ambyth Estates’ vintages. There was something different going on in this wine and I wanted to know what it was. Was it the organic, the biodynamic, the terroir, what??

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Uber Urban Foraging

Because you just never know when you’re going to need to call on your inner Hunter/Gatherer.

There’s always something... 

These were the famous last words as I headed to the airport after my last Bohemian Mojo adventure.  It had occurred to me that each time I have attempted to leave the country, some crazy and random situation happens; typically, something that ends up delaying me.

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The Cornish Pasty – Delicious But Plagued By Politics

“Well yes, it is tasty but it doesn’t rhyme with tasty; it actually rhymes with nasty.  It’s a pARSty Stephanie, not a pAYsty.”

It took at least a day to teach Stephanie how to pronounce the name of Cornwall’s national dish, the pasty. Her rendition made the scrumptious West Country meal sound rather pale and unhealthy which it most definitely isn’t.

We were already well on our way to the ancient kingdom of Cornwall so there was no way I was going to sing ‘Let’s call the whole thing off’ just because an American couldn’t say pasty properly.

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Wild Weather and Cornish Endeavour

Lord it blew. How it blew! 

The gravel hard rain had stopped but the wind was still pushing us here and there as we scurried along the harbour side looking for somewhere to eat. And then the Cornish storm literally pushed us into the doorway of what, at first glance, seemed to be a whitewashed cottage on the quayside. But there was a menu posted in the doorway and, hopeful, we stumbled out of the gale into a hearty welcome. We’d found Outlaw’s Fish Kitchen and we were about to experience an assault on our senses to rival the weather’s blast outside. 

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THE DOCTOR'S PLACE

There’s always a huge sense of anticipation when I cross the Severn Bridge. I see it as a portal to the ancient and wonderful land of my birth; Wales. This time the portal would let us through to the stunning seaside haven of Newport in Pembrokeshire. Destination: a magical ‘restaurant with rooms’ called Llys Meddyg; the Doctor’s Place in English.

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The Lion's Roar!

Okay, maybe it wasn’t the lion that was roaring...maybe it was me; roaring with absolute pleasure after an amazingly Mojo experience at the Red Lion Freehouse in East Chisenbury.

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Ramsbury Airfield

As we walked up the steep track sunk between two moss-covered banks Stephanie and I paused to look at the patchwork of trees and fields stretching across the valley.  We were on a quiet pilgrimage walking through an easterly wind stiff with cold sweeping.  Below us smoke curled from the chimneys of the quintessentially English village of Ramsbury. In the distance, its equally picturesque neighbour, Aldbourne, was hidden in the folds of a hill. 

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