A Square Meal

After all the excitement in the lodge, it was a relief to sit down to dinner and let our heart rates return to something the NHS might approve of.

The starter was pâté with a lump of French stick substantial enough to be registered as a blunt instrument - or it could have been a section of baguette. I've never understood foreign food. This came with a communal bowl of creamy butter—or possibly Utterly Butterly.

The main course was gammon and pineapple, a combination I’ve never entirely trusted. As I’m not a fan of gammon, our lovely chef made me an omelette instead. I hadn’t asked for one, but it was duly served with chips and peas, and I ate the lot.

Pudding was Becky’s regular triumph: fresh fruit salad adorned with a lump of vanilla ice cream, thus ensuring that anything dangerously healthy was swiftly brought under control.

Special!

Hampshire and Isle of Wight meeting at Southampton Novotel

How does a hotel cope when they have to feed a large number of hungry masons descend on it for lunch? With military precision they managed, let’s find out how.

We began with ‘Buffalo mozzarella, heritage tomato caprese with a balsamic glaze’. Or, as in plain speak, cheese and tomato with a fancy drizzle. I then discovered that buffalo mozzarella is made from the milk of the Italian Mediterranean buffalo. Sadly, the cheese itself had less flavour than a piece of a hotel bathroom soap - though, to be fair, probably fewer bubbles.

Thankfully, the main course arrived to restore gastronomic relations: ‘Slow cooked blade of beef, wholegrain mustard mashed potato, thyme roasted root vegetables with a red wine jus’. In other words, beef, mash and posh gravy. And very tasty it was too.

Pudding was ‘Vanilla cheesecake smeared with fruits of the forest compote’. ‘Smeared’ may not actually have appeared on the menu, but the cheesecake was excellent and vanished with impressive speed.

So, in summary, the meal was a triumph - apart from the contribution made by the innards of the Mediterranean buffalo. Full marks to the Novotel for feeding more than 150 people under such demanding conditions.

The reason so many of us Masons are shaking hands with obesity is quite simple: we eat too much. A 3 or 4 course meal late in the evening is enough to send most nutritionists into a cold sweat and have the local cardiologist warming up the defibrillator. So, now and again, it is rather refreshing to be presented with just 2 courses - practically a fasting meal by Masonic standards.

Dinner was a generous plate of lasagne and chips—the chips probably courtesy of McCain, although nobody was counting, least of all the brother asking for seconds. For the healthy contingent, coleslaw and lettuce were added. As a firmly non-rabbit-related person, I treated the green stuff with the suspicion it deserved.

Pudding was fresh fruit salad and ice cream—non-Jimmy Lewis, I suspect, though in the interests of harmony no formal investigation was launched.

The food at the Brockenhurst Masonic Centre is always excellent and, as usual, Becky and her team did not disappoint.

Lyndhurst Lodge dine out at The Totton Masonic Hall

Starter - A deceased poppadum lay supine on the plate, apparently the victim of a tragic incident involving gravity, overconfidence, and possibly a hot lamp. It was tastefully adorned with two small samosas, accompanied by a tomato and onion garnish. There was also a slice of chapati whose texture called to mind an old lodge warrant written on extremely ancient parchment — the sort of document one imagines being discovered in a locked drawer, guarded by a gnarled and musty retired secretary with a suspicious moustache.

Main - A tasty chicken curry and rice followed. The chicken was tender, the sauce was lively, and the rice served the dish well.

Pudding - A delightful bowl of peach melba arrived to complete the feast. The famous French chef Auguste Escoffier invented the dish around 1892 at the Savoy Hotel in London, naming it in honour of Dame Nellie Melba, the celebrated Australian opera soprano. On the evidence of the dessert, he either had a soft spot for her or was conducting the most elaborate flirtation in culinary history.