Leeds city centre may not be as attractive as other parts of Yorkshire, but there are some homely areas nearby. 20 minutes removed from the midtown tango is a handsome spot called Moortown, currently splattered with the rustic colours of autumn.
Getting there early offered us with a thick mist which fled within a couple of hours. There to be fed was a mere group of 5, 6 if you count a wired toddler. It was explained that they were after the experience more so than the wicked food load; setting up our rotisserie in their modest garden certainly added to its presence.
There is a quality butcher’s in Harrogate and the owner emphasised the fact he wasn’t a stranger there. Various sausages and cuts of meat were recommended by a man whose father happened to be a butcher also. Ironically there is more chance of somebody who’s foreign to decent food not appreciating it. That this certain gentleman had an affinity for lamb left me cocksure that ours would knock his socks off.
We delivered the lamb with its partners in crime. Mint sauce is an old classic, though a little too obvious for some. There to keep you on your toes is our mustard and dill alternative. A little care is required by the eater not to lavish the meat with the fiery yellow stuff, but hit the right balance and an initial tang is pleasantly overcome by the remarkably juicy flesh.
With almost all of my cooking n’ carving actions now inbuilt I can apportion my attention, in this case to another gentleman who asked me a variety of questions. One in particular won’t be forgotten anytime soon when I was asked, if you customized a saddle, would a pig provide a credible means of transport?!
After satisfying ever query we watched on as hunger collided with delicious food. It’s difficult to hide your true feelings when tasting something, though part of our reaction is tainted by social conditioning. For a child it’s impossible to hold back, and it was a rare treat to watch this little boy clamp his hands around some of the crackling; a wondrous smile came after the first bite. An original jig followed the last.
A winter chill blew as our services came to a close. To be sure, going outside without at least a jumper on would be madness. And yet, for all that cold the coming months promise, I can’t see us slowing down. Hog roasting is in demand, and while it is our reputation may be heard sizzling beneath a night sky.