Devon Feast at Alun's!

Sunday morning we left Exeter by train and headed for Teignmouth (TIN-muth), the sea side resort at the mouth of the river Teign (TEEN), that flows from Dartmoor. Up the river a little bit is the village of Bishopsteignton (bI-shep-STEIN-ten), where Alun lives and where Ryan has been living for the last two and a half years. Nestled into the hill, it is truly a village, with hardly any shops, two pubs, a post office, a convenience store, and a couple of churches. As we got off the bus and braced ourselves to walk up the hill with our luggage, we saw Alun in his car, coming back from church. What luck! We road into the village with him and said our proper hellos at his cozy house on Fore Street.

We had arrived just in time for the weekly Sunday meeting of the "Triumvirate." Nick and Sue, two of Alun's neighbors and long time friends, stop by Alun's every Sunday after church for tea. We sat in the front room chatting for about an hour, telling stories and working on the crossword puzzle together. It felt so good to be back in Devon, and to be with Alun, Nick, and Sue, people who, in my mind, are classically English (unlike the modern international hodge podge of London): warm, genuine, and wholesome.

After Nick and Sue left, we headed up to the Bishop John pub for a pint of Otter (the best Devon brew) and sat next to an ecclectic older couple, Neal and Merle. Originally from South Africa and New Zealand but living in England for the last 40 years as a doctor and costume designer in the West End of London, Neal and Merle were friendly and engaging. Four pints in they provided exceptionally entertaining conversation: thinking Ryan was an actor, calling me "Lady of the Curls" and telling me "discretion, dear girl," when while talking about croquet, I said I swing the mallet side by side and not between my legs, as is the custom here. And we never strayed far from food conversation: Neal wouldn't stop talking about crackling (crispy fat on pork roasts) and became his most lively when we mentioned apple cake. "She has owed me an apple cake for over a week!" he pointed accusingly at Merle. Well oiled, we departed the pub, Neal and Merle off to make a curry, and us off to make one of Alun's famous pork roasts.

Alun is a humble chef; he loves food, the process of making food, and sharing that good food with loved ones. He has an arsenal of recipes he has perfected that he cooks casually and with great ease. A twinkle in his eye, he speaks with hushed reverence about a memorable curry or kedgeree shared with friends in his home. Meals at Alun's have been some of my best meals in England. And this Sunday dinner wasn't any different.

We started with a take on French onion soup Alun had made the day before, complete with toasted brown bread (wheat bread) covered with stilton cheese! Divine! Our main course starred a pork roast that Alun had bought direct from a farmer across the river. The meat was packed with earthy, rich flavors, outlined with flawless crackling: the coveted delicacy of crunchy teeth shattering fat with an underside of buttery gooeyness. Accompanying the perfect pork: roasted potatoes, parsnips, carrots, leeks, and homemade applesauce. We finished with an apple cake made with the Bramley apples from Alun's garden. Moist, light, and with a dollop of thick whipped double cream, it was heaven! What indulgence! I was left numb with fullness and satisfaction! We finished the evening in the front room with coffee, port, and chocolates and talked until midnight. Alun's hospitality and generosity is a warm embrace that welcomes, sustains, and comforts. And even though I was thousands of miles away from Southern California, I felt home.

How powerful is food!