Have a Care at Caerleon

We ventured out into the landscape winding our way to Wales through intermittent spats of rain and wind followed by moments of bright blue cloud dotted skies. The day was a perfect illustration of what I call the ‘in-between’ times, the liminal. That place in time and space where everything overlaps and there is a momentary but perceptible ambiguity of boundary; an invigorating mix of weather; hinting at spring while also reminding of winter.

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A Walk in the Ramsbury Wood

I had no idea a simple stroll in the wood could be such a reminder of courage, loss, love, and the value of community. 

“Have you heard about the trees and the carvings”, one local asks. “Trees? What trees?” Before he can answer, the conversation moves on to something else as is want to do when the Mojo team is amassed. A few days later, someone else mentions “the trees” with relation to WWII and U.S. troops. I’m curious, I want to go see them but there is always so much to see and do, will we fit it in?

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Raw Milk - Rarer than Hens' Teeth

The whole day had an illicit feel to it. Stephanie and I felt like a couple of city types in search of hooch from an illegal still during the days of prohibition.    

The whole day had an illicit feel to it. Stephanie and I felt like a couple of city types in search of hooch from an illegal still during the days of prohibition. We were in the lush green pastures and hidden valleys of the county of Somerset. It wasn’t booze we were looking for but a commodity that’s much harder to find these days. We were hunting for raw milk.        

What’s raw milk you may ask?

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Ramsbury Airfield

As we walked up the steep track sunk between two moss-covered banks Stephanie and I paused to look at the patchwork of trees and fields stretching across the valley.  We were on a quiet pilgrimage walking through an easterly wind stiff with cold sweeping.  Below us smoke curled from the chimneys of the quintessentially English village of Ramsbury. In the distance, its equally picturesque neighbour, Aldbourne, was hidden in the folds of a hill. 

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Winkle, Winkle Little Snail...

How I Wish I'd Had A Pail...

Bohemian Mojo were in Wales again, exploring the bounty of the coast, for our last blog.  We were staying at our favourite Monk Haven B&B in Pembrokeshire.

It was breakfast time and we were enjoying the laver bread delicacy which had been cooked with our bacon and eggs. At least I was enjoying it. Not so sure about Stephanie. (Food From The Foreshore)Then our friend Joanne Evans mentioned she was going ‘winkling’ with her family later on. Winkling indeed. At first Stephanie looked blank until I explained winkles, more properly called periwinkles, are gathered on the rocky foreshore.

Her eyes lit-up at this. Stephanie is always ready for a foraging adventure and this one had the added spice of being below the tideline.

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Freakishly Fun Foraging!

The idea of foraging conjures images of grubbily rooting through muddy undergrowth in the heart of some primeval forest. This was only half true on our amazing day with Fred Gillam, the foraging wizard. The morning we met Fred was cold, windy and threatened of a downpour as we piled in the car, trying our darnedest not to be victim to Mojo Meantime again! Today we were foraging with Fred Gillam, the amazing forager. We didn’t yet know just exactly how amazing he was but were excited to find out.  I have to admit even though I was excited to sightsee I was a little skeptical at what we might be foraging at Uffington White Horse which was where we to start our adventure for the day.  What could we possibly forage on an open hillside? Didn’t foraging require the dank, damp, and brooding underbelly of ancient forests???

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Ambyth! Forever...

Ambyth! Ambyth means “forever” in Welsh. Every now and then, it’s nice to find something that you hope will last forever. 

Take for example, a smooth and complex glass of biodynamically grown and harvested Grenache, Syrah, Mouvedre blend, so delightfully fermented in its terra cotta amphora urns that it just eases its way onto your palate, all suave and sophisticated. Fleeting, yes...but the desire for forever is there. 

That’s my experience of my first taste of one of Ambyth Estates’ vintages. There was something different going on in this wine and I wanted to know what it was. Was it the organic, the biodynamic, the terroir, what??

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