A Tale of Two Campdens

Everyone knows there are lots of “Chippings” in England—Chipping Campden, Chipping Norton, Chipping This, That and the Other. But very near to us here in Chipping Campden there is also another Campden—Broad Campden, a tiny village only a couple miles away, and that was our destination early Monday morning.

I lured my parents out to the footpaths with the promise of a short, easy walk, 3½ miles roundtrip loop from Chipping Campden to Broad Campden and back. As it turned out it was the perfect introductory country walk, because not only was it not too taxing, it encompassed all the interesting and scenic aspects of a walk on the footpaths.

There are a number of versions of this walk between the two villages (and of course you could probably do it without a written guide at all), but I picked the route described in the Jarrold Ordnance Survey More Cotswold: Walks (Pathfinder Guide) (one of the two “missing” books, along with Cotswold: Walks (Pathfinder Guide)).

We started in the main street of Chipping Campden at the Market Hall and walked toward the church, turning onto Station Road, then crossing the road to the right when we came to a public footpath sign and a sign for “The Coneygree,” a meadowland owned by the National Trust surrounding the church. We had the choice of climbing over a stone stile or entering the field by way of a kissing gate. Walking across the meadow, we crossed a footbridge, then walked diagonally across another field to another footbridge. This field was full of sheep, which I am quite accustomed to, but for my mother—a big admirer of sheep from a distance—it was a novelty. We paused while she took a few ubiquitous sheep photographs. We crossed that field, went through a gate, and then through another gate (which used to be a stile). We continued to go through a series of fields and gates, following the directions in the guide to bear slightly right, walk gently uphill, walk gently downhill, go through a hedge gap, keep to the left, etc. The path through the fields was made much easier for us because in many of the grassier fields there was an actual indentation in the grass which designated the footpath. (Unlike much of my walk yesterday, of which even the book admitted, "the path is not clear.")

After crossing a brook, another field, and a track, we came into the pretty village of Broad Campden. Now I am not certain if Broad Campden even makes a proper village, because the only commercial establishment appeared to be—what else—a pub. However, there were quite a few lovely cottages and houses, all with beautiful, well-cared-for gardens. Broad Campden looked to be quite a prosperous place to live (none of the riff-raff of Chipping Campden!). We walked through the main road following our route, and for a few moments kept pace with a pleasant older lady walking with her Yorkshire terrier, Rosie. She too was walking to Chipping Campden, to work at the Christian Aid Society, but chose the more civilized (though perhaps dangerous) road route. So we parted ways when our path left the roadway near a chapel. We reentered the fields and a new series of kissing gates after we passed an 18th Century Quaker Meeting House. The gravel lot nearby was full of lorries and workers doing some kind of construction, hardly an idyllic footpath atmosphere, but one of the workers kindly pointed us in the direction of the footpath (helpfully marked by a cardboard sign with "footpath" written in red ink). The field path ended at a tarmac track, "George Lane," which led us right back into the center of Chipping Campden.

And it was still only about 9:30 a.m., time for a hearty breakfast of oatmeal and scrambled eggs at the cottage.

Our main destination for the day was Bourton-on-the-Water. Bourton-on-the-Water is a very commercialized, touristy village, but it is very pretty with its waterway and bridges, and can be fun to walk around. For true entertainment seekers, there are a number of amusements including Birdland, a Model Village, a Model Railway, a pottery, and a perfumery—not to mention numerous shops selling every kind of souvenir tat. (Definition of tat: nice way of saying crap.) There are also, however, a number of antiques shops and innumerable tea rooms. (However, we were not having tea until we returned to Chipping Campden.) Our great coup (of a small sort) was obtaining free parking when another car leaving offered us the remainder of their paid ticket (thus saving us a whole pound!) The ticket gave us an hour and 45 minutes to spend in Bourton-on-the-Water. Plenty of time to stroll around, buy a latte in the shop owned by an American man from California who bought the Bourton Post Office five years ago then opened a coffee shop later on, and look in the windows of the shops without succumbing to any purchases. We had no real interest in the various exhibitions, so didn't need a lot of time.

We left Bourton-on-the-Water and headed for Stow-on-the-Wold, taking a backroad detour to do a little innocent celebrity stalking. I had read in a magazine from the train that Kate Winslet lived in the village of Church Westcote, in the Manor House, so I thought it would be fun to drive through and see if we could catch a glimpse of her house. We had just been watching The Holiday (and she's been featured in several magazines I've read lately), so I felt a real bond with her. But despite driving up and down and around the narrow streets of the tiny village, we spied no sign of Kate or her house. After a bit we gave up and moved on. (I did, however, pretend to be Kate for a photo shoot outside our cottage later.)
(36 reasons to get out more? I think I need to get out more—and maybe get an eye lift, or at least more sleep or more makeup!)

Our final destination was Tesco in Stow for a quick stop to pick up a few essentials—more cream for our oatmeal, more cheese for our sandwiches (high fat dairy seems to be a theme here), and lemons were on the list. I don't quite know how we ended up with so many bags of groceries again!

If I were to name one thing that sets England and America apart, it is the availability and variety of dairy products in England, most particularly cream. Any self-respecting dairy shelf will include an amazing selection of creams! We have single cream (which is about the thickness and consistency of the heaviest whipping cream at home), double cream (both pourable and spoonable), whipping cream (although double cream can be whipped as well), sour cream and creme fraiche, and, of course, clotted cream. I don't know if I can fairly describe clotted cream to those who have not experienced it. Here is an official definition:

Clotted cream is a thick yellow cream made by heating unpasteurized cow's milk and then leaving it in shallow pans for several hours. During this time, the cream content rises to the surface and forms 'clots'. Clotted cream purists prefer the milk to come from cows in the English counties of Devon and Cornwall.

In the European Union, Cornish clotted cream is a protected designation of origin for cream produced by the traditional recipe in Cornwall. True Cornish clotted cream must be made from unpasteurised milk or the clots will not form. It has a minimum fat content of 55%.
Clotted cream is generally served as part of a cream tea (also known as a Devonshire Tea) on (warm) scones with strawberry or raspberry jam.

While there is no doubt of its strong association with southwest England, it is not clear whether clotted cream first originated in Devon or Cornwall; while strong claims have been made on behalf of both, there is a lack of documentary evidence to support them. Its principle manufacturer in the UK is Rodda's based in Scorrier, Cornwall.

So that explains the nuts and bolts but it cannot convey the heavenly, silky texture or ultimate creamy taste of clotted cream. It is essential for proper scones and jam, but also is decadently good spooned onto any dessert where you might use whipping cream. It probably has about a million calories per spoonful but that cannot even be considered, since eating clotted cream is an experience that completely transcends any attempt at healthy eating. And since true, fresh, unpasteurized clotted cream is only available in England, the opportunities to consume it are limited and must be seized whenever available! So endeth my sermon for today.

Needless to say, we rushed back to Chipping Campden to have tea before everything closed at 5:00. We zipped in to Badger Hall, one of Chipping's two tearooms that I am aware of, and had a delightful tea with a scone, masses of clotted cream, and a slice of ginger cake with sharp lemon icing. (Ahhh, cakes.... another subject I could go on about! But that's for another day.)