By this year’s Bestival correspondent, Ian Winter. Our regular Festival food reviewer Wendy was busy enjoying the event this year; so Ian, who managed to eat an impressively large amount of food, agreed that Matt and Cat could pillage his Twitter and Facebook feeds for the following overview, which long-standing readers will notice differs both in style and subtlety from Wendy’s usual offering.
Recalibrating my inners after a weekend dining al fresco on festi-food.
- One almost-cold hamburger from Gourmet Burger Kitchen (they are clueless, avoid).
- One milk-shake mixed with Dime Bar (sorry, “Daim Bar®”).
- Coffee + cake + wasp-garnish from a lady in a basque decorated with costume jewellery who told me to stop hitting the wasps because then they sting the staff.
- To the Women’s Institute Tea Tent for tea and cake (basque-count: nil).
- A very lovely curry from the farmers’ market.
- From same place later, “Ooh, pork pies, £2, my comfort-food of choice” and turns out it’s as big as my hand, awesome treat, which I eat like a total f—— pig alone on a bench like a famished tramp.
- A little tray of chips (Sea Cow) “round the back” of Elton John.
- A freshly griddled waffle with maple syrup and “do you want squirty cream with that?”… “yes I DO!”
- One coffee drunk carefully on a bean-bag and two more on the hoof.
- Two hot crumpets with raspberry jam carefully smeared on from a jar in the dark (£2 but actually a bargain, counted as a whole meal).
- Two cuppas (one free after a drunk walked THROUGH my table spilling my tea, picture the suppressed tears of my inner toddler).
- No pies at all. Boycotting Pie Minister because of their appalling re-branded logo treatment, I have standards. Used to love them, now inspire graphic-design-fuelled contempt (nobody said I have to be reasonable here). Also avoiding Barnaby Sykes as they’re a faux-artisan front for plain old Pure Pie and I don’t like the taste of cynical marketing in my meat-and-mash. Even when others tell me they’re damn tasty.
- Some utterly delicious popcorn from Joe & Sephs (caramel, macchiato & whisky flavour).
- A disappointing visit to the Solace tent, which is run by little loveable Christian bunnies with happy smiles and I suspect a darkly disciplinarian leader, where I usually get FREE CAKE and therefore FIND JEEEESUS; but no cake this year so b—–r The Lord, the W.I. are my new saviours. Solace cake is meagre, and they were not open late as other years.
- An ice-cream from a proper van.
- One bottle of water.
…and no alcohol at all, which will be news to the people who were pointing me out to their friends and pulling their children back as I danced BRILLIANTLY to high-BPM East European folkcore in the Caravanserai.
Don’t judge me, just help me get up.