An unassuming looking Penzance Inn put a crab soup in front of me on Friday evening that stopped the world for several minutes. Rich, thick and unctuous, it came served with a few slices of homemade bread, a mound of fresh crab meat dolloped in the bowl and nothing else, except pretension replaced with supreme confidence. Could well be the best thing I've ever eaten.
A fish soup in St. Ives a few evenings earlier was merely excellent. I stuck to seafood throughout our trip - everything we ate down there was a reminder of the wonder of screaming fresh fish and the pleasure of memorable food.
An unassuming looking Penzance Inn put a crab soup in front of me on Friday evening that stopped the world for several minutes. Rich, thick and unctuous, it came served with a few slices of homemade bread, a mound of fresh crab meat dolloped in the bowl and nothing else, except pretension replaced with supreme confidence. Could well be the best thing I've ever eaten.
A fish soup in St. Ives a few evenings earlier was merely excellent. I stuck to seafood throughout our trip - everything we ate down there was a reminder of the wonder of screaming fresh fish and the pleasure of memorable food.