Clotted cream and other Cornish things

🗞 Weekly Issue 4 // ⏱ Read Time: 2 min

I cried every day for a straight week after moving to Falmouth, and here I am, six months later, almost barely okay, sort of crying about how I don’t want to leave. Leaving behind my dog, boyfriend, family and career was harder than I imagined after living nomadically for so long. Since then I’ve come to truly love the Cornish way of life. Maybe it’s the cozy Sunday roasts, decadent cream teas (which isn’t actually cream in your tea but a tea with a scone and side of clotted cream), invigorating cold plunges in the sea (not ocean, definitely don’t call it that) or maybe its the feeling that British Summer is upon us and rainy days are a thing of the past. Whatever the reason, I thought I’d share some of my favorite bits from a Friday in Cornwall.

Daisy might be not be classified as traditionally Cornish, but I did find her in a picturesque coastal Cornish village called Flushing. Could you find a better guard dog?Her piercing gaze strikes so deep she can see any hidden intention. Strong enough to ward off the lowliest of criminals. One glance is all it takes.

The only Cornish thing in this lineup is the clotted cream. Clotted cream tastes pretty much like butter to me but don’t tell anyone here I said that. It’s distinctly different from its fattier cousin butter, a product born of steam rather than the more hands on approach of churning. As the cream is steamed, the fattiest bits clot at the top. Hence the name, clotted cream. Doesn’t the word clot just make your mouth water? Maybe even more delicious than Squashies. They may look more artificial than they are good, but I can assure you they are gummy clouds of sweet tangy goodness.

No clotted cream served at this cozy little dream pub. Just a 10/10 aesthetic and so very English, fireplace and all.

The sea air coats everything on this slice of the Cornish coast. Rusted cars, mossy stones, mewing gulls pecking at trash along with the salty breeze always seem to beckon me back to the water. The desire for connection with source is evident through the endless number of water activities available here. If you’re really keen, you could start with a gig row (aka rowing), jump on a sailboat, wander around on a paddle board, ferry hop till you drop, and end it all with a brisk cold plunge. One of the things I adore most about living here is the constant presence of people out on the water, no matter the weather. I try to remind myself of this when I want to stay locked up in my cozy little studio.

My personal favorite is the cold plunge sauna combo. There’e something rare about being locked in a sweatbox with no access to phones or technology that seems to be just as good of a detox as the heat.

The perfect way to conclude any sauna session is with a comforting cup of tea paired with hearty English fare such as marrow and crab, all while surrounded by charming English folk engaged in thoughtful conversation. Maybe they’re discussing the impressive number of Holy Wells of Cornwall, which incidentally learned about from a guy named Guy with a last name English. He wrote a book about it with his late wife. There are more than 200 and not all are created equal I presume. If you fancy a Cornish a Holy Well tour, hit me up because I happen to know a Guy.

Thanks for reading :), and for all those of you who pay to support this donation based newsletter. Your support has made it a really fun and motivating way to share my work. Excited to share a sneak peak of a new book I am working on next week. Stay tuned ❤️!