jetBlue, of all people, has started a business class service. It’s called Mint, and it’s replete with all the trappings of high style flying… full lie flat seats with she-she bedding, NYC chef created meals, hand shaken cocktails and the use of $400 noise canceling headphones to watch movies on your 18” screen. Of course, the real reason we trucked all the way up to JFK and took a chance with it was because it’s literally half the price of United’s Polaris business class and there’s nothing worse then landing in Europe at 7am on no sleep with a sore everything. Mint did not disappoint, delivering a premium service with premium service, and we land at London’s Gatwick airport just before 8am.
The car rental goes smoothly, and we get a free upgrade from
the Opal Corsa we booked (see the Ireland blog for more on the Corsa to the
Vauxhall Astra, a respectable car for the next few days even if the steering
wheel and stick shift insist on being on the wrong side of the vehicle. It’s a 2 hour ride to Bath and we set on our
way. About 45 minutes in we wheel off
the M4 highway to a rest stop. Rest stops
throughout Europe are generally a giant leap better then the ones on the side
of American turnpikes. Generally. This one is not, overcrowded and
overused. We do score a couple
respectable enough cappuccinos and a Traditional Cornish pastry, a meat and veg
filled apparatus that, once tried, can be checked off that particular list.
The rain ends as we pull into Bath and pull up to The Bird
Hotel. We greeted warmly and drop our
bags, but of course, at 10am the room isn’t ready. We freshen up and head into town, the normal
routine after an overnight flight eastbound.
It’s a short walk into the center of town and our first stop is the Pulteney
Bridge, the tri-arched structure lined with cool narrow shops spanning the
River Avon. Just a hundred yards away is
the famous Roman Baths, the town’s namesake.
Built in 70 AD, these are some of the best preserved Roman remains in
the world and offer a telling glimpse into the rhythm of daily Roman life. Most surprising to me is that the baths themselves,
after having been used, abandoned, lost,
buried, discovered and recovered by archaeologists, the bathes themselves still
largely operate per the original design, a testament to Roman engineering.
Leaving the Baths, Mandy guides us to Sally Lunn’s, the
oldest house in Bath and home to the oldest operating restaurant in town. Through our travels, we’ve had the privilege
of sampling some of the world’s signature dishes at the most iconic places to
have them – a lobster fresh off the boat in Maine, socca in Niece, France, crepes
on the Champs-Ellysees in Paris, herring from a food truck in Amsterdam. Today at Sally Lunn’s, we’re adding Bath Buns
to that list. We’ve read countless
reviews of Bath Buns online but none of them seem to give us an actual clue of
what to expect. The bun itself is huge
by bun standards, a fluffy roll about 9” across and 5” high. It’s about the same texture as an Italian Panettone
cake, but with only a hint of sweetness like a King’s Hawaiian roll. You can get the bun to go, or sit in the restaurant
and get them split in half and topped savory or sweet. We pick one with salmon and cream cheese and
another with Brie, cranberry and bacon. They’re
fluffy and yummy and satisfying and equally well paired with both Mandy’s pot
of mango lemon tea and my house ale.
The Bath Abby dominates the center of town, with soaring
stained glass windows, and flying buttresses typical of the 16th
century gothic design, so you can’t help but pop in for a visit. The architecture is great, but what we’re
most enthralled with are the hundreds of tomb stones that line the walls and
floors. Some have simple inscriptions, but
others have full obituaries and others still include the deceased’s last will
and testament. And for many others, their
mortal coil will live on in perpetual uncertainty…
We walk around town a bit, taking in Bath’s version of
Sunday Funday on this unusually cool spring afternoon. We wander back to The Bird and check in, time
for a well deserved nap. Dinner will be
a two-stop pub-er, with Saracens Head Pub first on recommendation of the kind
woman at the front desk who considers it her home base. Opened in 1713 and the self-proclaimed oldest
pub in bath, its claim to fame includes Dickens’s corner, the booth where
Charles Dickens penned his serial The Pickwick Papers. We find a table and watch the locals move in
and out for a pint or a nosh. We try the
Pea and Mint Soup, made with plenty of fresh mint pureed into the mix and
served sprinkled with pea greens, and tenderly grilled squid. Both exceed expectations and go very well
with the hand pumped Abbot’s cask ale I ordered.
Next stop is The Raven, well-established a three level establishment
known for their house made pies. English
pies that is. We find a table on the 2nd
floor and decide on the Deer Stalker, a silky, comforting venison pie with a
buttery crust served over mashers with red wine gravy, and the cheese board,
which includes some absolutely excellent local cheddar and Bath bleu. I’m in cask mode now so I get a The Usual, another
local fave and Mandy picks a big red wine to hold up to the British cuisine. Nice way to end our 29 hour day.
