My wife and I made the fairly short drive to Pylewell Park in July 2011, dragging my dad along with us in order to spend a few hours at the Pylewell Park Food Festival. As memory recalls this was supposed to be the first of an annual food festival held there but things didn’t pan out and it may only have lasted a couple of years. The primary reason for us attending wasn’t through any keen desire to experience a range of different food and drinks in a pleasing setting with views down to the Solent and across to the Isle of Wight – although those are good enough reasons – but because my brother, who’s a bit of a wizard at these sorts of things, was responsible for designing and building the oyster and champagne bar, and he wanted us to see it as he was proud of the work; interlocking sections for dismantling for easier transportation, flowing lines in some fancy type of wood, that sort of thing.
The Pylewell Park estate is listed in the Domesday Book and a house that was present to the north of the main building these days was apparently the home of a Knights Templar Preceptory. That sort of history coupled with the aforementioned oyster and champagne bar should already have given you an idea that this food festival was geared towards the posher end of the social spectrum and if it hasn’t then the photos should make it much clearer.
Upon arrival at Pylewell Park I made straight for an area set aside displaying birds of prey. Country parks and festivals do seem to like have birds of prey to show off which I’ve never really understood but it was great to be able to get a lot closer to the birds than has typically been the case elsewhere.
As for the rest of the food festival, it was spread around a large field which could clearly accommodate a lot of visitors and potential displays in the centre while the outer boundary was lined with food and drinks stalls and marquees. The entertainment provided during our short stay came from a very good crooner as well as a group of drummers. It looked like a parade and demonstration of Thai dances would take place at some point as we’d encountered the Thai community on a few other occasions at these sorts of things.
My dad is not one to pass up an opportunity to get amongst some attractive women so it was almost inevitable I’d have to take a shot.
I wasn’t able to drink as I was driving – more on that below – but there was food to sample and we made sure to try a few bits. Of note is my dad’s complete lack of adventure when it comes to these sorts of things. My wife and I treated the food festival as a chance to experience more unusual treats while it was a series of disappointments when it came to his eating choices. We hit a pasty stall at one point where ostrich and boar pasties were our selections and my dad opted for a cheese and onion one. “You could get one of those at the supermarket,” I remarked. “I like them,” he replied. Fair enough at some level, I suppose, but not what we consider these things should be for.
We stayed long enough to circle the stalls a few times, tasting a few bites, then headed off. Part of the reason for that, as mentioned, was that I was driving. Had we been in the position where we had some place to stay over or easy public transport links back home then things might have been a lot different. We’d have tried the champagne and oyster bar, for instance, and the real ale tent and wine tasting marquees would have found themselves in possession of some of our money too. I do wonder whether that fairly isolated location for the food festival coupled with its target audience of some of the more well-off classes contributed to the failure of Pylewell Park to host annual festivities. I might be wrong, though, and the place might have been rocking later in the day and into the evening. The venue was a very nice one and it might be nice to see it return in years to come, perhaps with more camping and glamping options, some transport laid on to get people to train stations, etc.