(由 Google 翻译)黑潭早餐启示录:Plum Tree Farm 的超棒自助餐
黑潭,你这个调皮的小妖精。一周清爽的海风和令人生疑的刺激游戏,需要某种滋补品——那种能让你五脏六腑都舒畅起来,还能让你远离宿醉的滋味。在这里,你可不能光吃那些薄薄的羊角面包;你需要的是一顿饱餐。正因如此,我才来到了 Plum Tree Farm by Farmhouse Inns,准时享用了早上 9 点那顿令人窒息、腰带爆裂的自助早餐。
而且人头攒动。天哪,真是人头攒动。这总是个好兆头,不是吗?一家早上 9 点就人满为患的酒吧餐厅,可不是靠空想和廉价的营销手段就能做到的;他们显然在推出一些让当地居民,以及像我一样疲惫不堪的游客,都觉得值得早起享用的美味。这家餐厅洋溢着欢快、喧闹的氛围——没有丝毫的浮夸或浮夸,只有运转良好的机器送餐的声音。
7.99英镑的自助餐绝对物超所值,早餐主食琳琅满目,令人垂涎欲滴。我的盘子里堆满了——这是理所当然的——自助约克郡布丁(据说是他们的招牌菜)、香肠、豆子、鸡蛋,还有那份必不可少的黑布丁。
坦白说,食物真是恰到好处。所有食物都调味得恰到好处,火候恰到好处,既热又不会融化馅料。现在,我要挑点毛病了,因为这是我的工作,也因为我是个怪咖:培根的颜色略显苍白,就像加热显示屏上常见的那种——它不像新鲜现点现做的培根那样酥脆。但重要的是,培根完全烤熟了。他们显然做了一个明智的权衡:为了不上镜的肉片,他们选择了一块未硬化、鲜嫩、在灯光下依然可口的肉片。我承认这一点。
但这家店真正令人心动的魅力并不在于菜品本身,而在于他们的服务。
我踉踉跄跄地走出去大约一个小时后,肚子在香肠和炒蛋的重压下咕咕叫个不停,那种熟悉的、令人作呕的感觉突然袭来。我的信用卡。不见了。在桌子和门之间的某个地方,我的小塑料救命稻草决定上演一场戏剧性的失踪。
慌乱之中。我们冲了回去,做好了疯狂搜查和低声咨询的准备。但当我们走进门时,一名团队成员立刻注意到了我们。我还没来得及结结巴巴地说一句“你好,你看到……”,他们就已经伸手去拿了。“你在找这个吗?”
朋友们,这就是五星级服务。它不是华丽的桌布,也不是侍酒师的讲座;而是人性的智慧——纯粹的专业精神和细心——注意到遗忘的物品,立即取回,然后在一小时后认出失主一脸苦恼的表情。没有繁琐的手续,没有手续,只有平静而知性的交接。
Plum Tree Farm 不仅仅是提供美味丰盛的早餐;他们经营着一家严谨、周到、真诚可爱的餐厅。五星级——以及最深切的感激——我很乐意给予。下次我甚至可能会尝试烤肉。假设我还能站起来的话。
(原文)
A Blackpool Breakfast Revelation: Plum Tree Farm’s Cracking Buffet
Blackpool, you saucy minx. A week of bracing sea air and questionable arcade thrills demands a certain kind of sustenance—the kind that can wallpaper your insides and keep the inevitable hangover at bay. You don’t mess around with flimsy croissants here; you need a proper feed. Which is exactly how I found myself at Plum Tree Farm by Farmhouse Inns, right on time for a 9 am car-clamping, belt-busting buffet breakfast.
And busy. Lord, it was busy. Always a good sign, isn’t it? A pub restaurant rammed to the rafters at 9 am isn’t doing it on thin air and cheap marketing; they’re clearly churning out something that the local populace, and weary tourists like yours truly, deem worthy of early rising. There’s a cheerful, clattering energy about the place—nothing sleek or pretentious, just the sound of a well-oiled machine getting people fed.
At a tidy £7.99, the buffet is an absolute bargain, a glorious trough of morning staples. I piled my plate high—as one must—with the Buffet Yorkie (their signature, apparently), sausages, beans, eggs, and the essential splodge of black pudding.
The food, frankly, was spot on. Everything was perfectly seasoned and cooked to that precise temperature where it’s hot but won’t melt your fillings. Now, I will nit-pick, because it’s my job and because I’m a monster: the bacon had that slightly pale, anaemic hue you often find on a heated display—it lacked the mahogany crisp of rashers cooked fresh to order. But, importantly, it was thoroughly cooked. They’ve clearly made a sensible trade-off here: a slightly less photogenic slice in favour of an un-hardened, tender piece that stays palatable under the lamp. I’ll allow it.
But the real, heart-swelling magic of this place wasn’t on the plate; it was in the service.
About an hour after waddling out, my stomach groaning under the weight of sausage and scrambled egg, that familiar, sick lurch hit me. My credit card. Gone. Somewhere between the table and the door, my little plastic lifeline had decided to stage a dramatic disappearance.
Panic stations. We rushed back in, fully prepared for a frantic search and a whispered consultation. But as we walked through the door, one of the team members clocked us instantly. Before a single, stammered “Hello, have you seen…” could leave my lips, they were already reaching for it. “Looking for this, were you?”
That, my friends, is five-star service. It’s not the fancy linen or the sommelier’s lecture; it’s the human intelligence—the sheer professionalism and care—to notice a forgotten item, secure it immediately, and then recognise the distressed face of its owner an hour later. No faff, no forms, just a calm, knowing handover.
Plum Tree Farm isn’t just serving up a fantastic, hearty breakfast; they’re running a tight, thoughtful, and genuinely lovely operation. Five stars—and the deepest of gratitude—happily given. Next time, I might even try the carvery. Assuming I can stand up again.