Whilst we aren't currently letting out our accommodation here at Wright's, there are a few nearby options we can recommend.
Buarth Y Bragwr
Our friends have a one bed cottage right next door to us.
Pant Y Castell
We also recommend farm stays at Pant Y Castell cottages.
Winter special
Pantycastell is offering 10% off to friends of Wright’s. Just quote the winter discount quote PYCWINTER along with your enquiry when booking via lois@bright-com.co.uk or text Lois at 07585 333695.
]]>Author, public speaker and gardener Carwyn Graves has written the second part of his Welsh food history.
In his first piece he explored oysters and sheeps' cheese. This time we learn about foods such as rye bread, found in Welsh language poetry and eaten "in many areas, particularly inland, mountainous parts where the poor soil made wheat cultivation unviable". We're grateful to him for sharing some of our hidden food culture. It's a fascinating read. Read Carwyn's latest.
]]>Sat in front of the laptop, red wine... Bordeaux, (nothing fancy) to my left and Spotify plays, Idlewild, Roddy Woomble sings ‘Things Seem different today, not like yesterday’. Lines from 2002 invigorated 18 years later by a sense of poignancy & imbued with nostalgia for a pre-Covid time.
This week Maryann is taking a well-deserved break from her writing duties, and so the responsibilities have fallen upon me, big shoes (figuratively) to fill I know!
Like many I find myself searching for the positive a lot recently, things have been tough, for so many, in so many situations throughout this year, and it has often felt as though we are somewhat mired down. Despite these feelings, universally felt, there have also existed alongside, opportunities to find comfort contentment, motivation & inspiration.
One of the by-products that I have enjoyed the most has been Maryann's food stories, which are so much more than that, What Maryann has presented is a narrative of a life, a life shared, of family, of friends, of occasion, all punctuated with great food, amazing experience and love.
When Wright’s as we all knew it changed gear adapting to a new social & economic landscape where tectonic plates shifted beneath our feet as we complied with a raft of regulations brought forth by Boris Johnson & in Wales, Mark Drakeford, that have come to define our existence and the rules by which we live & operate, so too our roles at work which after many years had become established also changed.
During this time we became former restaurant hosts, café managers, restaurant owner and moved over to grocers, bloggers and government lobbyists! Simon put out a call & formed an alliance of Welsh restaurants & cafes, over 300 answered & now an industry has a voice! what a legacy for all those now involved.
This was an incredible thing to bear witness too, so many pulling together in attempt to save business, save jobs & save the spaces that are also imbued with the same kinds of memories and recollections reflected in Maryann's food stories.
My role alongside Maryann, Simon & Ezme was to bed in a click and collect system which become the rudder of the operation, allowing us steer through lockdown & continues to be very much an essential side of the business.
Whilst losing roles & responsibilities Simon also promoted me to ‘Artist in Residence’ asking me to supply a drawing a week to the newsletter, my focus was so elsewhere that I didn’t see the gesture or the opportunity at the time.
Illustrating Maryann's stories, recipes, vegetables from Blaencamel has become an incredible gift that over the past months has brought me so much pleasure, as boats need anchors, the process of illustrating the newsletter has become mine.
Despite the fallout and the further fallout to come, I can't help but see the opportunities for positive change even through my covid cataract vision, I have seen to many good things happen, so much resilience, so much kindness given, so much love experienced that I can't be anything less than optimistic for the future.
The wine glass is almost empty, Father John Misty has just sung ‘And now the future’s definition is so much higher than it was last year’ & I feel it is an appropriate time to put the laptop away and pick up the paintbrush before I get even more sentimental.
Its going to be a while before visiting our favourite restaurant café or bar will be a casual thing to enjoy, when this does happen, one thing is for certain I will not be taking those experiences for granted ever again, for me that is an incredibly valuable take home from this whole experience.
]]>Sometimes 4.8% is a crisp yet juicy pale ale utilising Idaho 7, Simcoe and Bru-1 hops!
Sometimes Pale Ale 500ml Can: £3.50
Both - £7
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At work, we’ve been a tight little team of four, a quarter of our usual strength, holed up in a building kitted out for customers that no longer come. Never have tables and chairs looked so forlorn – wallflowers bereft of suitors, cruelly stripped of purpose. I know how they feel. Right now I’m not even sure I can summon the will to finish this paragraph – you might never even have to read this.
My wife will tell you I’m prone to explosive expressions of giving in. It’s not a pretty trait and somewhat toxic, I imagine, if you’re within range when I pull the “I’m done with this” trigger and spit the vitriol. For those caught in the crossfire it’s either traumatising or hilariously absurd, maybe both. Either way I’m aware it’s not a good look. On the other hand I cling on to wild optimism – a tiny spark lights and I see a raging fire. Sometimes I even see a different world, you know the one, the one even those like me, stepping into the twilight, still occasionally glimpse. The one not driven by money, materialism and madness.The one that is humble before nature.
The invisible hand isn’t going to pull us out of this. The efficacy of the free market is the most expensive conceit in the history of humanity. If it were only that simple. When the virus came along the host wasn’t in a position to put up much of a fight, resistance was low, humanity a body at war with itself, fussing and fighting whilst the thief walked in through an open door.
As others have pointed out, it appears that a few decades back somebody started stealing our imagination – our collective capacity to envisage a changed world seems to have diminished. The perpetrators don’t need banging up though, they need rehabilitation. The gravitational pull of centralisation, homogeneity are sucking the life out of community and family. The money myth and our education is squeezed dry of creativity. This is the epidemic of cynicism. It won’t be long before we’re admonished to live within our means. No matter how meagre for many, propagated from positions of plenty, this will be presented as dry logic.
Even if you look at it that way – and the cake is going to be smaller – it’s still a huge cake. It’s still plenty big enough to provide everyone with the nourishment they need. It’s about how we slice it. I’m guessing that when we have friends and family around, most of us cut it equally because that’s what’s in our hearts, we portion it with love. If we choose we can dish the collective cake that way too. Isn’t that what we really want? After all, we make it together. It’s our cake not “theirs”.
]]>So, my new chapter started in early February.
From my humble beginnings operating out of a tent, then a few years of a caravan, I’ve now moved to a lovely small bungalow out in rural Pembrokeshire, between Cresselly and Martletwy. It was a lot of hard work getting the place painted and decorated in readiness for my first guests who arrived back in March, before Covid-19 arrived and the world was tipped on its head.
But finally I now have a solid base to run my foraging and food days from, so I’ll be well placed when everything with the coronavirus does calm down. I am hoping to open before too long, depending on government advice as I think I’ll be able to operate safely with very small groups. Rest assured though, I’ll only re-open when I can be confident of protecting everyone’s health and wellbeing.
Since the lockdown I have been keeping very busy preparing and starting a small permaculture garden by the bungalow. This is something I have long wanted to do, and its been brilliant to have the time and space to get started. I have some gardening knowledge, but I’m loving the learning experience of working with nature and finding ways to try and make the least impact as possible on the local environment and fragile eco system.
As well as the normal staple vegetables, I have put some wild vegetables and herbs in that are not readily available, or have become too rare to pick in the wild and I am also growing some fungi. I have created a morel bed, and I am also going to cultivate small batches of Lion mane, native oyster and hen of the woods to begin with. These cultures will take a while to set in and it will be a massive plus when the fungi actually fruit.
The fruits of my labour will eventually just add to what I am able to use and create in new dishes for my tasting menus throughout the seasons, as I now plan to remain open year round. Late autumn and winter will be interesting as the foraging day will be shorter and will focus more on the food side of things. But for those of you put off venturing outside by the shorter days and colder weather, you could just of course join me for dinner if preferred.
Right now, nature is blooming. I have been gathering wild garlic shoots and more recently the wild garlic flower pods for pickling, and soon it will be time to collect the seed pods for the wild capers.
Dandelions have been picked, pods for capers and flower heads for wine which will get turned into vinegar for a new dish, based on a savoury creation of dandelion and burdock.
When I’m not tending the garden, foraging across the land that surrounds the bungalow or working on new dishes in the kitchen, I’ve been absorbed in preparing my well-loved delicious local lamb legs. These cured and then air-dried legs are used sliced as an addition to my bread course on the foraging day dinner. Those of you who’ve tried it know just how good this stuff tastes
I just love the countryside at this time of year, the sound of the birds on their nests and the rich picking in the hedgerows are just amazing.
Wandering through my local lanes and picking fresh wild plants for steaming or for use in salads is a delight. One of my favourite quick and easy recipes to make is my hedgerow green sauce. It is basically a salsa Verde or sauce vert using the plants from the hedgerow that are close to me.
I hope you all stay safe and well during these difficult times and I look forward to being able to welcome you to my little corner of wild and unspoiled Pembrokeshire very soon.
Learn more about Matt on his website.
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"Stop off at Ardglass for a couple of jars of mussels and some potted herrings in case we get famished before dinner. On and on, over the hill and the craic is good. Heading towards Coney Island”
- Van Morrison - Coney Island, from Avalon Sunset 1989.
There is plenty of evidence that Van is a man who likes his food. Firstly there’s his figure – revisit his albums, particularly from the mid 70’s onwards and see how he grows. I don’t mean musically.
Secondly there are ample references to food and drink in his songs. Of all of them I like the above quote from the spoken word Coney Island best - these are words said with real relish and Van displays an affecting concern that he might find his tummy rumbling with nothing on hand to satisfy his appetite. Wisely he decides to get some supplies in just “in case”. And then when he says “famished” I don’t think he means famished at all. Peckish would be more accurate, like Winnie the Pooh when he fancies a little “smackerel” of something – which is just about always, no matter how long since lunch or how soon until dinner.
On my 34th birthday I spent the day travelling through the places in the song with my wife and two sons whilst playing the track incessantly. We didn’t pick up any jars of mussels or potted herrings at Ardglass but instead I ate local oysters with pints of Guinness in the bar of the Portaferry Hotel on the banks of Strangford Lough when I got back. Later I had a good dinner too, there was even a cake.
I once saw Van play in a tiny venue in Newport Gwent – a last minute barely announced warm up gig for his European tour sometime in the late eighties I think. I was with my wife and a work colleague Ian, a true Van fanatic, and we arrived at the small hotel venue early to check the start time of the show. My friend walked across the lobby to where a security guy stood sentry at the foot of the stairs that led to the ballroom where Van was due to play. As he returned to us he gently collided with a small balding man in a too tight green sweater that accentuated the dome of his protruding belly. Come to think of it the man’s silhouette would have been almost indistinguishable from that of Winnie the Pooh. “he’ll be on at 9.30” said Ian. I was speechless for a moment, and then said - “you don't know who you just collided with?” “I didn’t notice.” Van hadn't taken much notice either. He was heading for the dining room from where I detected the unmistakable aroma of a carvery. I like to think he went up for seconds.
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