AN INSPECTOR CALLS

From our gourmet correspondent

It somehow seemed fitting that the second and last of Snopper`s seasonal outings was held yesterday in the peaceful surroundings of the Poult Wood Golf Centre, surrounded by sylvan Kent countryside and overlooking the forbidding 18th hole of this near unplayable course which has been the scene for some of Snopper`s titanic golfing struggles over the years .

A poult being a young fowl, it was unsurprising that the main course on the menu was the traditional roast turkey with all the trimmings, but before that, there was mild surprise that Snopper`s hors d`oeuvres consisted of duck pate with salad. There was some suspicion on his part that the pate bit might have had just a hint of foreign about it, but he convinced himself that the duck in question had, most probably, been English.

He found the main course to be everything an English gentleman could aspire to see in a traditional Christmas lunch - succulent, tender breast of dead turkey, young, almost virginal sprouts (he managed to ingore the likely`Brussells` origin,) potatoes roasted to perfection, sausage wrapped in bacon, straight forward stuffing, perky carrots and piquant parsnips.

Not for him the strange concoctions imported from foreign parts, for Snopper likes his food to be plain, simple and free from complication....a bit like himself, I venture?

This festive repast was topped off by coffee and mints along with convivial conversation among good friends. All in all, a highly enjoyable occasion with the choice of venue and fayre passing all his searching tests with flying colours. There seems little doubt that further visits to Poult Wood will be made, whilst establishments that rely on `adventure` for their patrons will just have to wait their turn.

You know it makes sense.