York and a party

[smokingboot]

At last; a beautiful city in the north of England.


I could move to York tomorrow, it's so lovely, with its medieval warren of streets, shops that fit in with its architecture, the wall around the town, and its beautiful minster. Doubtless York has eyesores, but at least they aren't at its heart. Maybe I was enchanted by the night and the Christmas lights, but both larians and Aunty Em assure me it is just as pretty at any time of year. The latter has offered to bring me back in the new year, and I would love to take her up on her generous offer. There's so much to explore!

We were celebrating a friend's 40th at Barley Hall, a beautifully restored/preserved medieval house. A friend had been on a tour of the place and placed the date at around 1480; something in my head clicked and I thought, 'No no, older surely.' Turns out the part we were standing in was dated at 1360. It's nice to know that my historical instinct, useless for any practical purpose, actually does work from time to time. Some places talk to you if you let them. I know the place will tell me lots of stories if I stay, indeed, the whole town has plenty to say, in a way I have only found in London and Oxford among English cities. But I am as ever, running from thing to thing. Maybe another time I will stay and listen properly.




The banquet was fine, with rock hard bread trenchers over which gravy poured freely onto the tablecloth and made one think 'How long was it before some genius considered hollowing these?'* My favourite bit was the starter; this at first looked pretty dismal, with some kind of thick barley/pulse soup and bizarre tiny crescent-shaped pastries filled with a very sweet date-based (at one point I swore, slightly fishy) paste.

But as larians discovered, if you ate soup and sweetmeat together or one just after the other, the sweet/savoury combination was really stimulating on the tongue. Apparently, this kind of combination was very popular back in the 14th century. This was followed by roast chicken, and beans cooked in a way I didn't recognise, and then a ginger cake with a moist pear in the middle and some kind of cinnamon parkin sweetmeat; different tastes and textures, all so filling one can only conclude that the host's guests were rolled out of the house and down the street homeward as a kind of apres-meal entertainment.




spiraltower speaks of his work from time to time on his lj, and it sounds wonderful; jester and musician, steward and actor, so many different roles: One thing he has never mentioned is just how good he is at what he does. Last night, he had us laughing, roaring, stamping and generally acting like 25 amphetamine-crazed Henry VIIIs on a binge-carouse, as he and his partner-in-crime** enacted Chaucer's Nun's Priest's Tale (with added tarantulas), the true story of St George and a decidedly Welsh dragon, rogue morris dancing and music from pipe and drum. I applaud his talent and his excellent company, though alas! We never have time for more than genial twitters of hello and goodbye, for stuff is always happening when we meet. One day a sit down with pipeweed and ale (or a very fine wine) and lots of time would be a good thing.

And today?

I am doing absolutely sweet nothing today.

* And thus, the pie was born.

** I don't have the lady's name unfortunately.

Comments

[mitchy.livejournal.com]

I love York too :) The last time I went, I went on the most fantastic ghost tour. It starts outside the Cathedral, at night, and takes you round the quiet city streets. Fantastic fun :)

[smokingboot.livejournal.com]

A ghost tour of York sounds amazing! I can well imagine a time when it was rival to London; it may never have been as big, but it just feels powerful and old, and sweet without being twee, its own identity, apologising to no-one. I haven't come across that in many English cities; London of course, Oxford and Brighton to a lesser degree.

It makes me want to write a freeform based on the place!