The menu for the Sunday lunch is short but varied due to its conscious effort to only include ingredients that are fresh and in season.
The menu itself is entitled "rustic" and puts emphasis on the rural and locally sourced ingredients that the hotel prides itself upon using; the website, (http://www.strattons-hotel.co.uk) is filled with images of fresh food from the surrounding area. The term "local vegetables" reflects the anxiety of a small market town to support and promote their produce whilst the mashed potato being infused with rapeseed oil shows their use of a common plant from the Norfolk area.
The menus also focus upon the local wildlife as well as the greenery, showing quite plainly that it is also locally sourced meat that the hotel uses. The wine list includes an image of unsuspecting animals grazing in their rural ideal which is grossly juxtaposed by the word "meat", harshly plastered among the middle of the page. This alerts the reader that these content animals are to be butchered for our consumption alongside a large glass of Merlot.
This is similar to the harshness with which Isabella Beeton writes in Mrs Beeton's Book of Household Management as she contrasts images of farm animals frolicking in streams with those of their heads served upon a plate. Not an inch of an animal is wasted in the Strattons menu either, and the reader is reminded that the cow used for the traditional roast dinner makes up many different aspects of the dish such as the "beef dripping potatoes" and "beef bone gravy". The duck breast is also brutally served alongside it's own sliced heart; a gruesome reminder that you're consuming what used to be a living creature and possibly making you feel equally as heartless.
This nonchalant attitude towards animals becoming food is one often shared within farming communities, as it's a way of life and indeed a prominent way of making a living. It's also viewed as a more natural alternative to buying your meat from a supermarket - at least you know its origin! However, even the vegetarians visiting the restaurant cannot escape the brutality of food. The "charred baby leeks" seem somewhat victimised in their childlike innocence. As well as this, the only veggie dish available is a type of 'sausage', thrusting the idea of meat onto their plate.
The menu uses no connective words and so is simply a list of ingredients. There are also no illustrations to aid the customer with their decision. However, the use of adjectives such as 'crispy' give the reader an idea as to the texture or flavour of a dish. Overly elaborate terms such as "coronation" hints at royalty while "mallow" instead of marshmallow makes dishes sound more interesting, modern and appealing.
The dessert course is purely about indulgence; an opportunity for the customer to truly outdo themselves, cleanse the pallet with something sweet and go home wishing that you hadn't. The bizarre coupling of flavours on the menu reiterates that the dessert is absolutely for spoiling yourself; choosing something that you usually wouldn't. Rich chocolate combined with peanut and black currant are extravagant combinations for a single dish as is the "tobacco ice cream" that accompanies the Manchester Tart; allowing the reader's tastebuds an exotic and adventurous escape whilst in the Norfolk countryside.
