Driving through a thunderstorm
Yesterday was a beautiful day: blue sky with fluffy white clouds, silky spring air and flowers blossoming in the baskets which were hanging from doorways in the neighbourhood.
Even here in Scotland, it seems summer is well and truly on the way. It looked like a good day for a trip to the farm-shop in Thornhill to see whether the first crop of new potatoes and tender young vegetables had arrived, freeing us from overpriced and overpackaged supermarket fare.
As we drove north, the sky started to darken, bathing the Ochill chain of hills in dappled sunlight, projected through low clouds like celestial spotlights.
We were now driving towards a bank of clouds. The sun shone in our back, making the trees in the foreground appear luminous against the leaden sky. It was all part of the Great Scottish Lightshow.
The farm-shop was still closed. Spring comes late to Scotland. While in Jersey the new potato harvest is well underway, up here the first optimistic sprigs of green have only just appeared in the vegetable plots. Having gone so far, we decided to press on to Aberfoyle in the Trossachs to stock up on free-range meats from the ‘Aberfoyle Butcher’, purveyor to some of Scotland’s leading restaurants. It was a good excuse for a nice drive into the Trossachs National Park.
In the distance, the clouds had thickened. Grey curtains of rain shrouded the hills.
There was a flash and then an entire row of lighting running across the sky from one end to the other. Then the rain started. Fat, lazy drops pounded onto the windscreen soon joined by a deluge of drops of all different sizes. Within moments, we were skidding on sheets of water. The spring lambs, still notably smaller than their Welsh cousins, stood drooling miserably in their first serious lashing by the Scottish weather.
We were aqua-planing around the bends past the Lake of Menteith when hail started to pellet the windscreen with such a force that I feared it might shatter. Within moments, we had white-out. We passed the dim lights of other cars that had pulled up by the side of the road; their drivers too fearful to continue. A lone biker rolled slowly ahead of us, a shadowy figure in the mist. The water was gushing from the hills and turned the road into a torrent. But over the hills the sky was getting brighter. Before we reached Aberfoyle, it was all over, as suddenly as it had begun.
We stocked up on chicken liver, belly pork, home-cured bacon, duck eggs and tripe. As I mulled over the coming week’s recipes, I checked over the French cheeses, Puy lentils and sushi rice on display. The ‘Aberfoyle Butcher’ is a corporate member of the Master Chefs of Great Britain and proud of it, the proprietor forever trying to introduce new and exciting flavours to the sleepy village where it is based. In one corner of the counter was a small heap of plastic bags with rolls of dark, sticky palm sugar. Go figure!
This was my inspiration to start a little food-corner on this blog: ” ‘Round the World Recipes”. First up: tripe – coming soon.
As we left the shop, the sky opened. Out of nowhere, new clouds had gathered, shaking out a deluge of hail. On the 50 yard dash back to the car, we got soaked to the skin.
Tags: Travels on my Doorstep, Tag Index
Denni