The Alchemical Forge

The MojoMakers had been in the UK for about a week and were only just drying out from two days of English rain when we set off for the tiny village of Buscot.  Their first drenching had been on a day’s fly fishing tuition; the second, and the heavier of the two, was on a foraging expedition in the beautiful Savernake Forest. So the opportunity to visit a blacksmith’s forge promised to be a warmer and drier adventure by far.  Everyone was excited. I’d arranged the visit through my youngest son Morgan who had qualified as a smith in June after three years at the UK’s National School of Blacksmithing.

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Wild Weather and Cornish Endeavour

Lord it blew. How it blew! 

The gravel hard rain had stopped but the wind was still pushing us here and there as we scurried along the harbour side looking for somewhere to eat. And then the Cornish storm literally pushed us into the doorway of what, at first glance, seemed to be a whitewashed cottage on the quayside. But there was a menu posted in the doorway and, hopeful, we stumbled out of the gale into a hearty welcome. We’d found Outlaw’s Fish Kitchen and we were about to experience an assault on our senses to rival the weather’s blast outside. 

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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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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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Food From The Foreshore

THE INTERTIDAL REALMS ARE UNDER THREAT....

We’d talked a lot about the mysterious world of the foreshore at BohemainMojo so Stephanie and I decided we’d take a look at the way mankind explores this enigmatic expanse of tidal marsh, exposed strata, rock pools, sand levels and seaweed beds.

For thousands of years mankind has ventured onto this hazardous, intertidal zone in search of food to forage. We know that because of the evidence left by hunter gatherers. Not least of which are the huge middens of limpet shells which they’d collected to cook on heated, flat stones.

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Strolling Through Stroud

I’ve never been mistaken for a singer before. Most people seem to know instinctively that I’m chronically unable to hold a note.

And so you could have knocked me down with a feather when someone in a coffee shop mistook Stephanie and I for a singing duo supposed to be playing at a local venue that night.  

Not us I said.

But you two look like the picture and your moustache is the same as the one on the promo material, we were told

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