The Pyne Arms, East Down

The Pyne Arms in North Devon is situated in the beautiful and peaceful hamlet of East Down. Run by couple, Ellis and Amie Pannell, this gastro pub is now most definitely on the proverbial map.

I called in last Sunday on the off-chance of a spare table (booking is advised), and I was suitably rewarded. Glass of Moretti in hand, I scoured the menu but it really didn’t take long before I settled on the day’s dining choice. 

I opted for the ‘Heal Farm Rump of Beef (locally sourced of course), Yorkshire Pudding and Horseradish.’ What emerged from the kitchen was perfectly cooked slices of beef draped over fluffy roast potatoes, alongside a rather large Yorkshire pudding. Accompanying this mouthwatering plateful, was a colourful selection of five vegetables, imaginatively presented to tempt and tease the palate no doubt.

The Pyne Arms at East Down certainly gets my vote  and I shall be returning soon I am sure…

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Barrington Court, Somerset.

On a hot sunny day, there is nothing better than messing around in an English country garden. And if you like gardens, then the National Trust property of Barrington Court is a rather super one – and that’s putting it mildly.

I’m no flower expert, but I was nonetheless dazzled by the sheer variety of colour generously splashed around this beautiful walled garden. Expert or not, I was loving the unparalleled diversity of all this botanical brilliance around me.

Heading towards the house itself, you have to run the gauntlet of the Strode Tearooms which are housed in a fairly impressive building themselves. Of course you don’t have to run the gauntlet at all; you could just give in which is what we did, and enjoy the excellent culinary fayre therof.

Admittedly, relaxing outside in the burning late-morning sun whilst sipping proper, full flavoured tea, with the gentle hub-bub of fellow visitors chatting in the background, was most relaxing. It’s what an English summer is all about isn’t it?

My friend mused that the only thing missing was a cricket match on the lawn, with the crack of the ball on willow and “…the gentle ripple of applause.” I think he might have got a point. Perhaps the National Trust should look into this?