I just spent a week in Norwich, England, for my new jobby; it was there that I had the good fortune of staying at the ever-so-lovely and historic St. Giles House in the center of town.
Since I was so pooped from the 10 1/2 hour plane ride over to Heathrow plus a 3-hr drive to Norwich straight to the office to work for yet another 6 or so hours, I could only really muster up enough energy my first night there to hide out in my room and ring up reception for room service in the guise of a goat cheese, roasted bell pepper and olive tart. I was fairly pleased with my order: plenty of fresh greens to offset the tart's richness, lots of zesty flavor (though I'd've held back a bit on the plethora of uber-tart green olives overloading the plate) and a good dose of sweetness from the peppers. I passed out soon thereafter.
My final night in Norwich included a company celebration at St. Giles. My dinner of venison, mashed pots and bitter greens was gorgeous. The jewel-toned medallions were cooked to a melt-in-your-mouth medium rare. The buttery tubers had been whipped to poofy perfection. And the saute of bitter greens really and truly posed as a fine complement to the entree's overall savory succulence. Save for about 2 spoonfuls of starch, I ate the plate clean.
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