Number Twelve December 2003
R and I set off to drive to the restaurant the other morning, the sun was
starting to send its warm rays over the countryside and although it was
late November it seemed like spring. Thoughts of what a perfect day it
would be for going fishing crept into my mind. I could just see myself
sitting in my little canvas chair, rods on the rod rests and pouring
myself a nice cup of coffee from my flask. Patiently waiting for the float
to disappear under the water and for me to do battle with a monster from
car by now was heading in the direction of Heacham I resigned myself to
the fact that I had better show my face at the restaurant today and
fishing would have to wait until another sunny day. In fact I had just
remembered that an old friend of mine was popping in to see me. He had
told me a few weeks ago that in his loft at home he had come across a 1964
magazine and in it was a article about Ingoldisthorpe Manor Hotel. This
was amazing, it was the year that I started at the Manor and I was looking
forward to reading it.
peace was broken as a voice said, “Don’t forget that you have to pick
up the partridges from Sandringham.” Well done Mrs R. Would you believe
it had of course completely slipped my mind. So within a few minutes we
were driving into Sandringham heading towards the pick up point. The old
King often described his beloved estate as “Dear old Sandringham.” I
for one am proud that we have a Royal family and because of their Norfolk
connections, at this special time of the year I feel with respect a
sadness for them. It seems that it does not matter one bit, how high you
are in the pecking order, little rumours that start from the bowels of the
earth grow. Like a snowball that gets larger as it gathers speed going
down a hill with a bit more being added as it travels along and what
started out as a little bit of gossip, is now front page news.
had my restaurant in Kings Lynn in the early 1980’s you only had to say
that you had a bad back at one end of Norfolk street and by the time the
news reached the other end you were dead and buried.
rumours start? Well it’s true that yours truly has been seen in the city
and its true that he was at the Savoy having lunch with ten other men in
dark suits. Also its true he was not paying, and also later in the day he
was spotted at the Dorchester drinking with a guy with spikey hair that
looked like Gary Rhodes. But then what happens next came right out of the
blue. I had only just arrived back in the restaurant when I had a
telephone call. “Is it true?” I was asked.
“Is what true?” I replied.
Then the conversation went as follows: “Would you believe it?
Rushmore’s in Heacham is going to be Gary Rhodes new restaurant in the
countryside!” After I had finished picking myself back up from the
floor, I asked the caller who was saying all this. “Can’t say” he
replied. “My lips are sealed.” “ OK. So how much have you heard the
sale price is?” “ Well it’s being bandied around, but don’t take
my word for it, that it aint far short of a million pounds.” After my
short reply the receiver was placed firmly down.
me start to think, what if it was true? There would be an influx of people
wishing to buy property in a village that had a restaurant owned by Gary
Rhodes. It would without a doubt push house prices up. Then there are the
needs and requirements of these city come weekend county folk. Rod and Tam
that already sell an excellent range of fish would also be required to
hold stock piles of caviars, also foie gras; and it goes without saying
plenty of hand picked wild mushrooms. There would also be a good sale of
green wellies, checked shirts, walking canes and fisherman’s blue hand
knitted sweaters for any enterprising person that was thinking of opening
a shop and jumping on the band wagon.
garages would have to upgrade to be able to service the top of the range
BMW and Porsches. Then there’s Mr Ward the gents hairdressers who would,
I know, benefit by charging London prices and so it goes on. Within a week
Burnham Market would be like a ghost town and Heacham would be the in
place to be seen; and all because of Mr Rhodes restaurant. Well you will
be pleased to hear it aint true. But it is pleasing to know that Gary and
I have at least one thing in common, that is Rhodes and Rushmore are both
spelt with an R.
suppose I better offer a recipe for this merry time of the year, and
it’s what to do with that turkey after you have served it hot on
Christmas Day; had it with pickles on Boxing Day and thinking of digging a
large hole in the back garden or coming up with some way of getting the
folks to enjoy yet another session of turkey.
the cooked meat from the cold turkey, chop into bite size pieces and then
place it into a good-sized bowl. Add into the bowl an amount of mayonnaise
(this can be topped up with more if you find that the mixture is a little
dry). Next de-seed a small bunch of grapes and add these to the bowl, also
chop into small slices a couple of sweet apples that have been skinned.
Slice a medium size onion very fine and maybe a few chopped spring onions
wont go amiss. If you enjoy pineapple then add the contents of a small can
that has being chopped into cubes of course you pour the juice off first.
sprinkle a teaspoon of mild dry curry powder into the mixture and with the
aid of a large spoon mix the ingredients together; season with salt and
pepper and that’s it. Dead simple and it makes the turkey taste great.
We at home serve it on a bed of cold spiced rice.
remains for me to say Merry Christmas to you all.
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