All I knew about Harrogate before I arrived there for Day 3 of the Bettys Tour 2019 was that it’s a spa town which has two branches of Bettys, is the hub of the Bettys empire, and once hosted the Eurovision Song Contest. The last time I visited was to go to a concert at the Conference Centre as a student in York. The concert was fairly dull and Bettys was full, so I arrived very much hoping that my second visit would be more rewarding.
Harrogate differs considerably from Ilkley in a number of respects. First of all, it’s much larger and busier. Secondly, while Ilkley is quite cosy and sleepy, Harrogate is really quite grand and elegant, affluent in a different way from Ilkley, with an atmosphere to match. Perhaps unsurprisingly, there’s an AGA shop there, plus many of the brands associated with the County Set. Funnily enough though, I didn’t manage to locate a branch of Country Casuals. Bearing in mind the grandeur of the place, I was more than a little surprised to spot a branch of Greggs and a Wetherspoons pub, indicating that Harrogate is perhaps a lot more down-to-earth than I had initially thought. That said, the Wetherspoons, located in the Winter Gardens, is by far the grandest that I have seen.
I arrived from Ilkley at around 11 am, just in time for elevenses. The only complication was that I was due to visit the Harlow Carr branch of Bettys which is located about an hour’s walk outside the town centre, and couldn’t swap to the more central branch of Bettys due to timetabling constraints involving the Turkish Baths on Day 4. I dropped my bag off at the hotel and got a move on. Soon I was striding purposefully through Valley Gardens in the pouring rain, my faithful boots getting progressively damper with each footstep.
As I strolled along, admiring the flower beds, I started humming “Walking In The Rain” by Grace Jones. Although it initially amused me to think of her in that context, the song didn’t really conjure up Harrogate for me. I started humming instead some music from a film I saw years ago, a cheerful waltz which soon had me walking with a spring in my step despite the weather, thinking of spa hotels and elegant living, wishing that I could dance properly. I initially thought that the music was from the 1978 version of The Thirty Nine Steps starring Robert Powell, convincing myself that the scene involving him in a runaway wheelchair was set in the palm-fringed reception area of a hotel in Harrogate. I have no idea whether or not this was the case, and can’t recall anything in the book about Richard Hannay staying in Harrogate whilst in the clutches of the Prussians, but it all seemed to fit together conveniently. It later turned out that the music was by Richard Rodney Bennett from the soundtrack to the 1974 version of Murder on the Orient Express starring Albert Finney. More exotic, and perhaps a little morbid, but bearing in mind that Agatha Christie was found in the Swan Hydropathic Hotel in Harrogate after going missing in 1926, the music turned out to be strangely relevant and summed up perfectly the cheerful elegance of my surroundings.
After a surprisingly enjoyable stroll, I arrived at Harlow Carr. I wasted no time in locating Bettys and went inside, feeling that I had earned elevenses. I was seated by about 11:45am, a little late perhaps, but I decided to play the Metropolitan card once more and concluded that as long as I placed my order before midday, it was still technically elevenses.
Harlow Carr is definitely the most rustic of the Bettys branches. Whilst it looks the same in most respects as all the others, it’s inside a much more modern building with a vaulted ceiling. It exists to serve visitors to the RHS Gardens at Harlow Carr and so has an air of elegance with a touch of the Wellington boot.
Elevenses was quite exciting as I was timetabled to have my first slice of Curd Tart for almost a year. I love Curd Tart as much as I love a Fat Rascal, so it took quite a lot of willpower not to pounce on it ravenously. It was delicious. If you’ve never had Curd Tart before, it has a similarly grainy texture to a Treacle Tart, but is much lighter and less gooey, with a fresh lemony sweetness. Another benefit of the Curd Tart is that, given that it contains curd cheese, raisins and more than a touch of lemon, it’s fairly easy to convince yourself that it contains all of the major food groups and counts as one of your five a day.
Once elevenses was finished, I decided to stroll round the gardens for a couple of hours to give everything a chance to settle down. Luckily the rain had stopped and, although pretty damp, the gardens were beautiful. There was also the amusement of an event organised by the West Yorkshire Group of the Alpine Garden Society taking place that day. I can’t say I didn’t find it strangely interesting in a slightly Martin Parr kind of way, and I now know more about alpine plants and saxifrages than I care to mention.
I had arranged to meet Jack Harrison (@JackHarrison) and Kirstie Shearman (@kirstieshearman) for afternoon tea. They had decided to pop across from the wrong side of the Pennines to say hello and I was looking forward to my second northern twitter meeting. Despite a slight hiccough involving crossed wires regarding exactly which branch we were supposed to be meeting in, for which I take total responsibility, Jack and Kirstie arrived and we all sat down. Funnily enough I had explained to them that I might be wearing glasses (to avoid a recurrence of the recognition problem in Ilkley) but this time caused confusion by wearing contact lenses. Never has my eyesight caused others so many problems.
I went for the Yorkshire Cream Tea, Jack went for the Traditional Afternoon Tea and Kirstie went for pikelets and a Halloween sponge cake.
I was glad to see that the Traditional Afternoon Tea was exactly the same as in Ilkley, confirming no issues regarding the Bettys supply chain between there and Harrogate. I was also intrigued to see what pikelets actually look like as, believe it or not, until then I’d never knowingly seen one before. I always thought pikelets were exactly the same as crumpets, but it turns out they are actually much thinner, rather like a savoury version of a scotch pancake (or what my mum used to call a drop scone). From what I can gather though (having since tried one), the taste and texture are pretty much the same as a crumpet. My Yorkshire Cream Tea was enjoyably indulgent without being anything like as full-on as the Traditional Afternoon Tea, which I was timetabled to try the next day after a visit to the Turkish Bath.
The conversation involved quite a detailed discussion about barm cakes, oven bottom rolls, Booths (the Waitrose of Lancashire) and (at my instigation) a rather coarse northern expression relating to tactile behaviour in relation to textiles, which I find uproariously funny, but which few people in London seem to understand. Jack also received quite intensive tuition from me and Kirstie on how to pronounce “Carshalton” and by the end of the afternoon could do a frighteningly convincing Cockney geezer pronunciation of “Dalston” (minus the swagger). I made my way back to my hotel and settled down for the evening.
On Day 4, I was booked to visit the Turkish Baths in the morning, relieved that the main branch of Bettys was sufficiently close by that I could stumble in afterwards for a restorative afternoon tea. In a fit of enthusiasm, I booked a session in the baths themselves for 9:45 am, followed by a treatment at midday. The lady who took my booking over the telephone made quite a point of mentioning that the therapist would be a man, which I found a little puzzling. Despite a few moments of paranoia, during which I wondered if something in my voice had communicated particular requirements which were being accommodated in a rather British fashion (despite the fact that the booking in the baths was for a “mixed” rather than “gentlemen only” session), I put the comment out of my mind, reassured that the session was costing me considerably in excess of 10 US Dollars and that extras were unlikely to be offered as a result.
The Turkish Baths themselves were absolutely beautiful and I would recommend anyone to visit them, especially on a wet and dreary morning. There was a rather amusing induction at the beginning, which I promptly forgot, during which a hearty member of staff explained how to use the plunge pool, showers, steam room and heat rooms in a manner reminiscent of Pinkney’s health farm, as visited by Victoria Wood in Mens Sana in Thingummy Doodah. I ambled about for a couple of hours, surprised at how friendly and chatty everyone was, despite being in a state of undress and either freezing cold or baking hot, before being called for my treatment at the allotted hour. I went for the “Turkish spa body ritual”, which was very enjoyable, despite the fact that it involved wearing paper boxer shorts and being scrubbed and pummelled to within an inch of my life for an hour and a half. I left the Turkish Baths feeling cleansed, invigorated and, most importantly, ready for afternoon tea.
The Harrogate branch of Bettys is as large and grand as you would expect for the nerve centre of the Bettys operation, sitting rather like a wedding cake on the corner of Parliament Street and Montpellier Parade, in a tiered Victorian building designed to accommodate the slope leading down to the Royal Pump Room. There’s a touch of the glamour of Austria-Hungary as you walk through the café and shop on the upper level, before going down to the quieter tea room on the lower level via a rather grand staircase. Despite its size, it’s a surprisingly intimate space with windows running along the Montpellier Parade side of the building, providing views of the rather attractive public gardens across the road.
I went once more for the Traditional Afternoon Tea and noted that it was exactly the same as at Ilkley and Harlow Carr, served with warmth and charm (and extra cream and jam) at a table with a wonderful view down Montpellier Parade. By this time I was getting quite partial to the Engadine Slice (pictured below to the left of the chocolate cube on the top tier). I can’t say I like it as much as a Fat Rascal, but if you like almonds, it is cake heaven and definitely my favourite of the three top tier items. After tea, I stumbled back to my hotel and settled down for a quiet evening.
Given the length of my session at the Turkish Baths the day before, I needed to have elevenses in Harrogate before departing for Northallerton on Day 5. I had arranged to meet Jeremy Townend (@j40lwt) at 10:30am so, after checking out of my hotel, I made my way across to Bettys once again.
This time I was seated in the rather grand wood-panelled basement room. I am relieved to report that Jeremy recognised me instantly, despite the fact that I was wearing glasses. We wasted no time in choosing what to have. Jeremy went for the English Breakfast, complete with the jenga-style stack of toast. As for me, given that I was timetabled to have elevenses rather than breakfast, I was technically supposed to go for a Fat Rascal or a slice of Curd Tart, but decided instead to exercise the Warm Treacle Tart option, as contemplated by the Bettys Matrix. Much as I love Fat Rascals and Curd Tarts, I’ve always been a fan of the Treacle Tart and my curiosity about the Bettys interpretation of this classic dish got the better of me. There’s something about the grainy and slightly chewy texture of a Treacle Tart, not to mention its intense sweetness, that I find irresistible. It also brings back happy memories of time spent in Eastbourne with my granny, who would often make one on Sundays for anyone who didn’t fancy apple and blackberry pie after lunch (or in my case anyone for whom apple and blackberry pie didn’t quite hit the spot and who needed something extra). As expected, the Warm Treacle Tart was absolutely delicious and exactly what I was hoping for; an indulgent treat that went perfectly with a cup of coffee as a mid-morning pick-me-up. An added bonus was that it came with ice cream, which even by my standards is quite an indulgence early in the day.
I left Bettys, picked up my bag from the hotel and made my way to the station at the end of the second leg of my tour, feeling slightly dirty about eating ice cream for elevenses, but not quite as dirty as if I’d had custard, and not regretting it for a second.
What I learned today... 