One of the more substantial if not graceful houses is the Carlton House Hotel run by Alan and Mary Ann Gilchrist
One of the more substantial, if not graceful, houses is the Carlton House Hotel, run by Alan and Mary Ann Gilchrist. Signs of past elegance are not plentiful, though golf balls have been ploughed up where once there were fairways for gouty Edwardians. Soon, streets resounded to the tramp of sandals, and hills to the bleat of English sheep. Welsh hotels were cheaper and finer than a b&b on the South coast, so along with the teepees, potters and poets came cooks and caterers.
It is not they alone who have made Wales the surprise, but they have had a hand in its transformation.What anyone would see in Llanwrtyd Wells - given the chance of Salcombe or Aldeburgh - is difficult to pin down. Victorians flocked to its healing springs, and Bartholomew's Gazetteer then thought it "a pleasant little watering-place, surrounded by fine scenery". As prices soared in Devon and Norfolk, so Pembroke and Powys beckoned. But as Wales has shifted its economy from heavy industry to electronics and Laura Ashley, so the horizons of its diners have extended to the world beyond the mountains. In part, it's the English Wales is cheap for searchers after the simple life.
George "Lavengro" Borrow noted its goats, but beyond the odd dish of laver bread (which isn't bread, but seaweed), who gets further into Welsh food than Glamorgan sausages - which aren't sausages either, but cheese and breadcrumbs? Maybe it's Chapel and the hard life that provoke bacon, tea and homely soups in preference to a la mode fripperies. Tabasco has been a doddle for years, and even the incendiary-like Encona brand chilli sauce I can just about handle now. This stuff is something else - but I'm not bottling out just yet. Wales has never been the place for super de luxe eating.
If you want to scour your local Chinese emporium, just in case, it is made by Koon Yick Wah Kee Foods Factory, comes in a dark brown glass jar, and has a gaudy label depicting a sailing junk and painted red chillies with little flowers. What is irritating is that while the flavour is absolutely staggering - sort of roasty/chilli/garlic/sweet - the sauce really is too damned hot to eat in spoonfuls I have recently been trying to up my heat threshold. It's a perky little number well worth hunting out.But cor lumme, talk about obsession! Last year I brought back from Sydney, carefully bubble-wrapped in my hand luggage, eight large jars of the hottest horseradish sauce, and six similarly impressive jars of a Chinese soy chilli sauce. Both these products came from the local Chinatown; sadly, I have never seen them here. The former is probably the best bottled horseradish in the world Fantastic stuff.
It's called "Riga style"(Latvian?), comes in a very plain jar, and neatly cleans the nostrils out at the first sniff.The chilli sauce is serious stuff. Search around the shelves of a local delicatessen or small, old-fashioned grocers. It smells a bit like Worcestershire sauce with a bit of earthiness to it. A spoonful or so in a deep stew can be rewarding, as can a few shakes added to hamburgers, barbecue sauces and marinades. That is another historical culinary fact I learned only recently.