At The Badger Inn

We wanted to eat our Sunday lunch at a Carvery, and thought about where exactly might be the tastiest spot. In times past, there have been many to choose from - but viruses will interfere, and the choosing was not as easy. 

I am sure you know what a Carvery is, but for the benefit of those who do not I shall describe it.

The root word carve hints at delicious roasted meats sliced to perfection, usually by a chef and surrounded by amazing side dishes guaranteed to fill you up. It has become a great Sunday tradition in England, and reminds me of my childhood. Every Sunday after church, Mother served a roast dinner which Dad then carved up for us to eat. Five children sat with eyes fixed to his knife, watching him release the most delicious aroma known to man, placing the slices onto our plates, then passing around the rest. This was our pleasure every single week, all a part of the wonder of the fifties and sixties. The dinner consisted of (usually but not always) the following:

Roast beef

Potatoes

Gravy

Home made bread

Carrots and peas and other vegetables

A salad

And some kind of unbelievably spectacular dessert. 

All of it was mouth-watering. Little did we know that in England, families had sat down to their own Sunday lunches 8 hours earlier. Their tradition goes back much farther than ours, though, to the year 1485 during King Henry XII's reign. Remember the 'Beefeaters?' They started it! Not only did families enjoy the feast in their homes after church, but the British pubs also took up the habit, giving mothers everywhere a break. 

We were not successful in finding open reservations until someone helpfully said, "But what about The Badger?" I instantly rang and, bless them, they had an opening! Off we set next day strolling up the main road, through Carbis Bay, to the sweetest little village, a favorite village, in fact THE village where Rosamunde Pilcher had grown up. Can anything good NOT come from Lelant?

Our experience at The Badger was all it was cracked up to be. The surroundings at the Badger are simple and beautiful, as you can see below, and everywhere is that aroma so similar to the one I grew up with. 

"Would you like a small, medium, or large?" asked our waitress. We thought, better do small, else we will never make it out of here. 

"Small, please," we said primly. We were invited to the buffet, where the chef sliced us each three types of meat - beef, turkey, and pork (at least I think it was pork), after which we took our plates and filled them to the rim with everything else. The chef had given us SO MUCH MEAT that there was hardly room for the rest. So, we just piled. 

Besides the meat there were roast potatoes, Yorkshire pudding, gravy, carrots, cauliflower cheese, dressing, mashed sweet potatoes, and peas. There were sauces too. And probably other additions I have forgotten. You would be amazed at how much the SconeLady (and her daughter) were able to consume. 

All of it was mouth-watering. The conversations around us were jolly, the waitresses were helpful, and the chef was fun to watch. 

Oh - I almost forgot, we even met a man WHO KNEW ROSAMUNDE PILCHER. Yes! He lives next to The Badger Inn, and saw us walking past as he stood in his doorway. A conversation was struck up (this tends to happen whenever people see my traveling companion), and I asked him if he had ever met Rosamunde. 

"Oh yes, I knew her before she married a Scot and moved to Scotland. We even wrote letters!" This was very impressive.

"I hope you still have the letters," I murmured.

"Yes, I have them!" he replied. But before I could say, "Perhaps I could have a quick look..?" I lost my nerve, and off we went to the Carvery. Those letters will have to wait for another day.

See you along the way!

the SconeLady

PS. Even though we had a 'small' serving, we really almost didn't make it out of there.