One of my favourite ways to pass the time is with a little light low-key tourism. Going to theme parks or the theatre or National Trust piles is all very good, but the best trips are where there are no queues, no brown signs and quite often, in place of a gift shop, you’ll find a well-priced cake in a sandwich bag or a geranium planted up in a yoghurt pot.
If there is a cake sale or a plant stall within a five mile radius, I can usually sniff it out. So, on a recent expedition into the depths of Dorset, I was on the hunt for low-key fun involving baked goods and garden bargains.
I’m talking real home made cakes made by real old ladies. I’m talking cuttings been lovingly propagated by gnarled country worn hands. If there’s a computer in sight, I’m not interested. I had a pocketful of shrapnel and the joie de vivre to see what the land around Blandford Forum could offer a tourist like me. My (non-scientific) findings are as follows:
1) On the drive into the village, my head was turned by a wooden crate stall in a large driveway. Is there any finer sight at the side of the road than some sweet peas in a jam jar? Not even Fleet services can offer that.
I returned on foot to survey the land and walk the train line. I returned clutching a clump of mint and a geranium with a courgette wedged in my pocket.
£2.30 well spent.
2) A Saturday morning stroll into the town seemed unlikely to yield any homemade bounty. And thus, I was delighted to stumble upon a coffee morning in the museum garden grounds. (Side note, every museum should have a garden. (Side note to the side note, the Blandford Museum is excellent, free and has a delightful garden.))
Unfortunately, I arrived as they were starting to pack away, but they were kind enough to serve me tea in a cup and saucer combo accompanied by a slice of orange and almond cake. I even had time to snag a small fern from the plant stall and meet a lovely Labrador who I think only befriended me because I was the only one left with cake. Still, I took the attention.
£4 for tea and cake.
50p for the fern.
3) A Sunday afternoon trip to the Larmer Tree gardens would have been perfect if there had been refreshments available. Alas, I had to drive down the road to the Chettle Village Store to forage for sustenance. But what delights they offered. A plethora of vegetarian options. I plumped for a spinach, pepper and goat cheese pastry roll and it was melt in the mouth delicious. Maybe it was the extreme hunger talking but I almost went back for a second.
£4 for the best of the vegetarian selection.
4) En route back to base, a handwritten sign proclaiming church cream teas was impossible to ignore. I pulled a handbrake turn and careered down a single track lane.
Said church are fundraising every Sunday throughout the summer by offer a pop up tea room. Parking in a field then a short walk over a non-existent ford took me to a village hall spilling out onto the village highway with tables, chairs and parasols. I took a seat next to a spaniel and a lovely old gentleman delivered my cream tea (he insisted he would deliver - they were evangelical about playing the tea room roles).
£7.50 for two scones, cream, jam and a pot of tea. Well, £7 as I’d run out of change but my new waiter friend took pity on me.
5) Tuesday morning, the excitement was palpable. I was headed to the Coffee Stop in the Parish Hall. I had been told about it by a keen walker I met on the railway line trail the week before, but when we’d arrived (I’d joined him on the pilgrimage) they were closed due to redecorating. Thwarted in my first attempt, I knew I had to attend on the grand reopening.
The paint fumes beckoned me in and a sea of friendly smiles turned to say hi to this strange face. A lady with no shyness demanded I tell her my whole life story in return for showing me where they kept the milk and sugar. A fair deal.
Sadly, there were no counter cakes.
Happily, they had whole loaf cakes on sale.
I chose a squidgy sponge with raspberry jam running through it and asked for a knife and plates. There was enough to go round everyone but the residents of the village seemed to be on a diet as only two joined me in the cake joy.
£1 for the tea.
£3.25 for a whole loaf (with some as takeaway).
50p for a paperback from their extensive book shelves.
6) The ladies at the Coffee Stop had tipped me off about a new cafe in the next village, so the next day, I was back on the footpath.
The Old Parlour has been lots of things and seems to currently be trying to be lots of things. But to me who’d never seen it before, I loved it. The young lady at the bar served me an orange juice and I’m ashamed to say, I was avoiding the cake. The jam sponge at home loitered in my mind and also, I was aware I was approximately 80% cake at this point.
But then she said she had some apple cake and would I like some? For free? The lady who makes the cakes had tried a new recipe but wasn’t happy with it, so they weren’t selling it, but I could try it if I wanted?
If I wanted?
I’ll be honest, I didn’t really hear anything past “free cake”.
And, dear friends, it was Dorset apple cake. In Dorset. How could I say no?
Well, it was delicious! The cake lady is obviously a perfectionist. I couldn’t see anything wrong with it.
Free Dorset apple cake.
£2 something for the orange juice.
Priceless to be a taste tester.
7) Before heading home, I had to revisit my friends at the Coffee Stop. I had to tell them about my rival cafe visit and the find out how Vivian’s MOT went (a few advisories if you must know). They welcomed me like an old friend and I chatted to a few more friendly faces. They also offered cheese scones hot out the oven. Heaven! A cup of tea, a cheese scone and a thick slice of butter. There really is nothing better. I bid the regulars a fond farewell and promised to pop in if I was ever in the area again.
£1 for tea.
70p for scone and butter.
8) On the route home I screeched to a halt by another home stall. It would be rude not to. I didn’t really need another geranium but when in Dorset and all that.
My cake crawl through the English countryside was a roaring success. I left with baked goods in my belly, a selection of plants in my footwell and a happiness in my heart only brought about by the highs of low-key tourism.
