Man does not live by golf alone. Even the most fanatical
amongst us must grudgingly concede there are
other almost equally worthy activities. One such fanatic
is Clive Agran who, somewhat belatedly, has come to
recognise the possibility that, in his relentless pursuit of
the perfect swing, he may have neglected several
important areas of human endeavour. Although insistent
that golf remains supreme, here he begins a quest
to find the perfect complement to the game he adores.
Right, knives, forks and wedges at the ready...
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When, as sometimes happens
at even the liveliest
of dinner parties, there is
a slightly awkward pause
in the conversation, my
wife invariably seizes the opportunity to
reveal that, when she first met me 30-odd
years ago, I was in the habit of eating raw
cauliflowers whole; not as a party piece, you
understand, but for sustenance. This startling
revelation is invariably greeted with a
mixture of mirth and astonishment. Quite
simply, I had better things to do in those
days – such as practising my bunker play –
and couldn’t afford to waste time shopping,
dicing meat, cleaning and chopping vegetables,
bringing things to the boil, simmering,
adding seasoning, etc.
Meals, I figured, took a disproportionate
amount of time to prepare as compared
with how long they took to consume.
Include the washing up and you could easily
spend most of the day preparing a meal
which could comfortably be gulped down in
20 minutes or even less. Ideally, a meal
should take no longer to prepare than it
does to eat, which is my idea of a balanced
diet. Whole cauliflowers, even if you bother
to wash them and tear off the leaves first,
are exceptional in that they take less time
to prepare than they do to swallow. Okay, if
you don’t like raw vegetables and want a
proper cooked meal, how about cheese on
toast?

To be absolutely honest, there’s a slight
element of hypocrisy in my attitude to food
and cooking in that I have no objection to
other people, if they so wish, spending as
long as they want preparing my meals provided,
of course, they don’t expect me to
help in any way. If that strikes you as somewhat
oafish, I should add in my defence
that I do appreciate and am genuinely
grateful for a decent meal. If it weren’t for
the fact that there’s invariably a bill to settle
at the end of it all, I would dine out in
restaurants far more frequently.
Thus the mouth-watering prospect of
combining outstanding golf with top quality cuisine was made irresistible when I was
invited by the very nice people at the Pasde-
Calais tourist office to tee it up and scoff
it down as their guest.
What a rare pleasure it was to board the
P&O ferry at Dover without worrying about
having to shove my hand-luggage into
those nasty measuring devices so beloved
by Ryanair and others. On the downside,
the crossing was really too quick as there
was only time for three courses in the
Langan’s brasserie to prepare my stomach
for the severe examination that lay ahead
over the next couple of days.

Since golf has traditionally come before
everything else heretofore in my life, 18
holes around Hardelot’s Les Dunes course
was an utterly
appropriate way
to begin the serious
bit of the
trip.
In many ways,
it’s an eminently
suitable course
at which to build
an appetite. Just
along the road
from the more
famous Pines, it
has loads of elevation,
which
means a number
of calorie-burning
climbs. Although perhaps a bit shorter
than you might ideally want to offset a serious
breakfast and huge lunch, it nevertheless
is very beautiful.
Threaded through the woods, it’s about
as tight as most people are after two-thirds
of a bottle of good wine. That is to say,
challenging but manageable. You would
probably score better if you left your driver
back in Blighty but, hey-ho, the idea is to
indulge and have fun so thumping into the
odd pine is, as we say, in England, de riguer.
This is the course to play if you haven’t,
like me, had an eagle since Harold Wilson
was Prime Minister as there are a couple of
par fives that are genuinely reachable in
two for ‘normal’ golfers. There are also a
number of blind shots and rather more par
threes than you might ordinarily expect.
Sorry, I can’t remember precisely how many
because we stopped after 11 holes for a
gourmet experience, after which my recollection
of the remainder of the round is
rather imprecise.

The good news is I can remember the
lunch. Now, I once was asked to write a restaurant review for a magazine and struggled
like a 28-handicapper having a particularly
bad day. The problem was I used the
words ‘delicious’ and ‘tasty’ more often
than I did my putter around Les Dunes.
Anyway, there were deliciously tasty oysters
on offer and oysters are my St Andrews,
Turnberry and Royal County Down rolled
into one. And, just like deliciously tasty cauliflower,
are best eaten raw.
Fish is to food what links is to golf, which
made more sense when I scribbled it into my
notepad after a plate of smoked salmon and
marinated herring washed down by a deliciously
tasty white wine than it does now.
Although the golf sharpened my appetite,
the food and drink didn’t sharpen my golf.
From all square after 11, I slumped to defeat
on the 17th. But being a losing member of
the British team beaten by the Rest of
Europe in the, as yet, little known Golf and
Gastronomy Trophy, didn’t spoil my day or
cause me to question my growing belief in
the obvious synergy that exists between golf
and food. Interestingly, the golf can be
either good or bad and the combination still
works providing the food is good.
The drive to Boulogne wasn’t really long
enough to build up a huge appetite and so I
went for a short walk around this pretty
port before returning to my hotel, La
Matelote (the sailor’s wife), for a light,
seven-course dinner. Since Boulogne boasts
the biggest fishing fleet in France, it was
hardly surprising that the menu was decidedly
fishy. And it won’t surprise you to
learn that everything was either tasty, delicious
or, more frequently, both. Like Les
Dunes, the greens were especially good.
Having eaten so much, I was seriously
concerned the next day that I might have to
adjust my swing plane to take account of
an increased girth.

St Omer is famous for both being a regular
stop on the European Challenge Tour
and lying on the banks of crossword compilers
most popular waterway, the River Aa.
In case you’re interested, apparently it’s
pronounced aaaah not ah-ah. Also incredibly
pronounced were the slopes on this
impressive course. The back nine alone
probably burnt off most of the calories
from the previous night’s grande bouffe.
Encouragingly open, rather long and with
a splash of water features, St Omer is an
enjoyable rollercoaster ride. Take advantage
of the generous slope rating and you’ve half
a chance of playing to somewhere near
your handicap.
An exceptionally comfortable 54-bedroom
hotel overlooks the course but we
didn’t eat in there as a buffet lunch was on
offer in the clubhouse. As you might have
guessed, it was delicious… and, er, tasty.
Reproduced with kind permission of Golf International Magazine

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