Oxford Terry and Mason's Great Food Trip

-Cupcakes!

-How are you for a cupcake?

-Oh, I love a cupcake.

-Bit of a cupcake man?

-Oh, love them.

-You?

-Never touch them.

It's taken 50 years in broadcasting

but I've finally cracked it.

The chance to meander around the country, see the sights,

meet the people...

and, ah, yes, eat and drink.

Is melt in the mouth a suitable phrase?

I've hailed a cab with one of London's finest cabbies

Mason McQueen to steer me around Britain's highways and byways.

I'm looking forward to a decent meal, are you?

Oh, I'm starving. I can't wait, Ter.

Our route has been mapped out by an adventurous gourmand,

Samuel Chamberlain in his book British Bouquet.

Almost 60 years later, we're following in his footsteps.

I'll do all the work, Ter.

To seek out weird and wonderful regional British cuisine

and discover how our tastes have changed over the years.

Do it right, son.

-Whoa!

-Whoa!

Don't kill any of these ducks.

We'll get in trouble.

On this leg of our festival of feasting

we're in the grand old city of Oxford

in search of some improving thoughts and food.

Slotted between the Chilterns and the Cotswolds,

it's home to the oldest university in the country.

It's extraordinary, the dreaming spires of Oxford.

Certainly that, Ter. Some of the architecture's stunning.

It's almost a pleasure to drive in Oxford

if it wasn't for the traffic, isn't it?

Now you know why they're all on bikes.

Famed for its brilliant minds, we're here to find out what the

learned population eat while studying.

Mason, you've driven in Oxford before, haven't you?

I've been here once before, Terence. Yes.

I brought some Americans down here for lunch.

And did they think it was cute?

AMERICAN ACCENT: They loved the place.

I heard an American once say,

"Hey, you know, some of this stuff here is 100 years old."

THEY LAUGH

The city's narrow streets are not a natural home for Mason's

suspension so parking up, we set off in search of breakfast.

Christmas Day at the workhouse here.

One time you're walking down a narrow street in Oxford...

-Hi!

-There's nobody there.

-Hello.

How you doing?

And the next thing, the world and his wife is swarming all over you!

-It's turned into Oxford Street.

-I thought this was a private street.

-POSH ACCENT:

-Clear orf, will you?

-Are you from Oxford?

-Cambridge, actually.

-Oh, Cambridge!

-Whey!

-Oh, gosh, you're slumming, aren't you?

-We are.

-And you're down for the day?

-For the day, yes. With my grandchildren.

-I'm with my teenage son.

-You are?

-My eldest boy, yes.

-He's having a great time, ain't you, son?

-Thank you, Dad.

Battling the crowds,

we know where to get a flavour for the local diet, the market.

Always a guarantee of some seductive snacks.

That is a naked woman! Mm.

She's in the bath.

-That's a bit saucy for a cake, isn't it?

-Yes!

Unlike the ladies in its cakes, this is a covered market and it

has been distracting students from their studies for over 200 years.

Generally, where there's a good market,

there's a good sausage and it seems Oxford is no exception.

-I like a sausage, I know you do.

-There's the Oxford, look.

-Is that famous?

-It must be. Speciality.

I like an old banger.

Well, you know, you've been in the back of it.

Don't half get rattled about.

You can't say you're not getting variety in the sausage market here.

-Shall we go in?

-Yeah, let's have a look.

-OK.

This unassuming sausage shop is home to Oxford's very own

professor of pig, David John.

To be frank, I'd never heard about an Oxford sausage, had you?

What makes an Oxford sausage so special?

Good quality pork, herbs with lemon.

-Lemon?

-Lemon, yeah.

Lemon on your fish. Not lemon on your sausage.

Little squirt of lemon, you know, gives it a bit of flavour.

Very good.

-This man is eager to try his hand.

-Is he? Right.

Could you show him the way?

-Yeah, we can put a bib on him and...

-I'll have a go.

-Yeah.

I like him in a bib.

David has been making sausages in Oxford for almost 40 years.

But today he's risking his hard-earned reputation

and handing control over to Mason.

Well done, expert. Look at this!

-Oh, hang on!

-No, stop!

-The nozzle's gone.

-That's fine. That's brilliant.

-Look at that.

-A McQueen snorker.

-MASON LAUGHS

-A snorker.

-Yes.

I've got a Lincoln, though. That could be my demise.

Now, we just link the sausage in

this way and underneath.

Ooh.

Pretty ringlets.

All in the wrist action.

Snorkers to the right of me,

snorkers to the left of me.

Do you want a go, Mason?

So, just a squeeze there, yeah?

Squeeze, yeah.

Then turn.

Yeah, you've got it.

Then bring the other one.

Well, Mason,

you've given it your best here

and I shall do my best in my own way to contribute

by eating those sausages.

A bit of mustard on these, Ter.

Sausage sandwich, food of the gods.

To get the most out of Mason's Oxford sausage,

we've delivered them to Will Puget at the Vaults Cafe,

a local lad with a passion for local food.

-Look at this.

-Good morning, Terry.

-Good morning, Will.

I was expecting you.

-And I haven't been disappointed.

-Cheers, Will. Good man.

-Oxford sausage with Oxford sauce and Oxford blue cheese.

-Wow.

Do you know, I have the man with me who made these very sausages.

-Did you?

-Yes.

-I didn't realise. Wow!

These were carved by my very own hand.

-Wow.

-Look at that.

-What a delicate touch.

-What a touch.

I'm almost afraid to eat them.

-Now, tell us about this.

-I'm hungry.

-What's this?

This is Oxford sauce.

So my father created this.

We call it Daddy's Sauce and...

No, you can't do that. You'll be sued.

HE LAUGHS

You know, you've been speaking of this. What's great about this?

Well, it is a really good balance between spiciness,

warmth and sweetness.

But it hasn't spread beyond Oxford, has it?

-Well, not really.

-In the way that Worcester has.

-No.

-No.

-Quite.

It's a bit of a local secret.

Mm!

Messy but good.

Predominantly, though, it's the Mason McQueen sausage.

We're following in the footsteps of a book called British Bouquet

which you'll never have heard of and nobody else has either

and he really was extolling the virtues of British food

when nobody liked it.

-But I don't think he mentioned...

-Oxford sauce.

-No.

Or indeed Oxford sausages.

-In fact, he didn't mention Oxford food at all, did he?

-No.

-Not a word.

Well, this is an outrage.

Well...

-Tell Chamberlain.

-It was his loss.

-Will, these sausages...

-Who's going to do it?

..although I have made them, are exceptionally good.

-Won't you agree with me, gentlemen?

-They're a credit to you.

Ten out of ten. They're brilliant. Local produce at its best.

A McQueen sausage.

One to be treasured, but at the same time...

..eaten.

Now you may not have heard of the sauce or the sausage,

but there is a mainstay of the British breakfast table

that Oxford is famous for - marmalade.

Fine cut or chunky, Oxford marmalade is known throughout the world

and is the preferred marmalade of Her Majesty the Queen.

The aroma of stewing Seville oranges and sugar the left Oxford's streets

in the early '60s, but the marmalade legacy still survives

at The Old Jam Factory which today has been reinvented.

-Good morning.

-Hello.

-Good morning.

-Andrew.

-All right, mate.

-Good to meet you.

-Nice to meet you.

-Very good to meet you.

-Thank you.

-Welcome.

Welcome to The Jam Factory

which is now a restaurant, arts centre and bar,

but historically was Frank Cooper's

marmalade factory where he used to make his famous preserve.

-Oxford.

-Oxford marmalade, of course.

It was actually Sarah Cooper who came up with the recipe

for Oxford marmalade back in 1874,

but like all good Victorian husbands

Frank took the credit.

Production moved to The Jam Factory in 1903

and revered jars of marmalade were sent around the world.

As a nod to the building's history, Andrew is serving his own

family brand of marmalade to the good people of Oxford.

This is Mum's marmalade, so every year,

both my mum and my auntie Edna pride themselves on making

about 80 jars each and it is pretty good.

Well, even if it wasn't pretty good, I'd say it was pretty good.

That's it, and I don't want to hear anything other than

-it's pretty good marmalade!

-I don't want to argue with this man.

I'm not going to argue with Mum either.

Mum's chunky Seville marmalade.

-Yeah.

-Oh, yeah.

-On toast?

-Is the toast ready?

In the 16th century, marmalade was the name for a quince paste

and was only made with oranges in 1677.

Where's the marmalade? Come on, come on.

And it looks like Andrew's mum and auntie Edna are pushing

the boundaries of British marmalade once again.

Give it a slice. Good.

Now, go about your business and leave this to me.

-I'll look after this.

-There, I've prepared that for you.

Continue with the conversation.

THEY LAUGH

As usual, stuffing your face.

Yeah. I'm afraid so.

And, well? What do you reckon?

What do you think? You think I'm going to criticise his mother?

HE LAUGHS

Not everybody enjoys marmalade.

What's the matter with them?

We've even here received complaints about marmalade.

People still send letters to Frank Cooper Oxford,

The Jam Factory.

Not sure what this post is about.

They're spreading malicious rumours.

"To The Jam Factory,

"Dear Sirs, I usually make my own marmalade

"but a combination of old age

"and having missed the Seville oranges persuaded me

"to buy two jars of your marmalade.

"I am most disappointed by it. The peel is hard and unchewable.

"If it were home-made I would suggest that it hadn't been

"cooked long enough before the addition of the sugar.

"I enclose a few pieces which I spat out."

-If you could just grab that piece there.

-I can't believe that!

I do get bizarre mail myself.

But that... Nobody has ever sent me...

Who's it by? T Wogan?

According to Chamberlain,

"Tourists stay in Oxford for varying periods depending on the extent of

"their curiosity, their pocketbooks..."

He's an old cynic, isn't he?

"..and leg muscles."

-Yeah.

-"You're best to walk around Oxford, I think, or get on a bike."

Yeah, things ain't changed since Chamberlain's time.

No, I think it has always been fairly congested.

Leaving Mason to battle the traffic,

I have taken Chamberlain's advice and continue my exploration on foot.

"Speak Friend," says the sign,

"And enter."

You know...

unless I miss me guess,

this is The Story Museum.

As you might expect from such a scholarly town,

Oxford has a rich literary heritage,

from the magical worlds of Narnia and Alice's Wonderland,

the city has inspired some of the greats

and today these stories have their very own museum.

-You're Kim?

-I am indeed.

And this Heath Robinson contraption,

what does this mean in the world?

-And there's parts of it moving.

-Indeed, indeed.

What does it do?

-Well, it makes stories.

-Oh!

It's a story loom. It weaves stories.

Who designed this?

Well, this was a young man called Barnabas Rochester.

He was a young engineer who was trying to impress a girl.

Unfortunately, she was more keen on literary

types like Lewis Carroll,

but he devised this machine that could create stories

better than any man.

The way that it works is you have to put a small child in here,

feed them humbugs to distract them

but then you can extract their imagination.

So, with the absence of small children or Mason,

our attention turns to another literary installation at the museum.

You'll have to choose a few words.

I would like to be...

..an enormous monkey.

An enormous monkey. And where might that monkey come from?

He might come from the jungle.

And then sit on the throne.

And see what happens.

Never one to turn down the opportunity to sit down.

TRUMPETS PLAY MUSICAL FLOURISH

-MAN:

-Presenting the enormous monkey of the jungle!

How did that happen?

Magic.

All this creativity has given me an appetite so I will venture

through the wardrobe and see if it can transport me somewhere tasty.

-Come with me.

-It is a wardrobe as well.

There's a couple of fur coats in here.

Sophie Grigson, as I live and breathe.

Mr Wogan!

This is The Story Museum's kitchen where well-known chef

Sophie Grigson bakes and prepares cakes with a literary theme.

So this is our Alice cake.

She has fallen into the hole.

Would you touch up her legs?

It's been a bit of a labour of love, this one, but

I love making these themed cakes here.

You see, I thought you were doing a green one

in honour of Saint Patrick or me,

but, in fact, you're doing it because it is Alice In Wonderland.

Yes, and it's her going out into the park and...

No, no, no. Hold on. Hold on.

We've got a little bit of earth here.

-You are so picky!

-I'm very picky.

You can put some more icing on.

Sophie, you know a thing or two about food.

We're following this old American guy who tried to actually

help the image of British food in the '60s

when it didn't have much of a reputation.

That was a pretty hard thing to do, wasn't it, improve the food?

Well, yeah, he did his best though, and what do you find?

What's your experience of eating in Oxford, for instance, now?

Well, the funny thing is I think it has got a huge amount better.

Oxford has never really been much of a foodie town

and when I was a kid, there were a few, maybe two or three

really good restaurants...

-WHISPERS:

-A little bit snobby.

And that was it.

And I think one of the problems that Oxford has had is that it is, you

know, all the academics and some of the students have eaten in halls.

-Of course.

-So there was nobody much to go out

and pay for good restaurants, but now in Oxford

there are farmers' markets on practically every corner.

We have a lot of young people who have emerged from universities

and who are creating great food.

So we are quite modern these days.

I think, Sophie...

that this melange...

is a minor work of art.

Hold on a second. Yes, so do I.

With Alice safely down the rabbit hole and the Mad Hatter

pulling up outside,

it must be time for a tea party.

-Oh, Mason.

-Ah.

I know you love a bit of cake, you'll love this.

It's an Alice In Wonderland cake.

And I think I'm taking Terry on as apprentice.

-How was he, Soph? Did he do well?

-Well, look.

Well, I can see he's done a great job.

Once you cut into this cake, it gets curiouser and curiouser.

And then you've got the next piece there.

It's a rainbow cake.

It's a rainbow cake indeed.

Sophie...

I have eaten Alice In Wonderland cakes in the past.

-Have you?

-And will in the future again.

-But I have never had one quite as good as this.

-Oh, I love you!

You're such a flatterer.

In his guide to Oxford, Samuel Chamberlain fills

a number of pages on Oxonian hospitality.

But there was one hostelry he managed to avoid,

Oxford Prison.

Incorporating part of Oxford Castle, the site has been

used as a prison since the Civil War and only closed in 1996.

In the 21st century,

some bright spark decided to turn the old cell block into a hotel.

I've no doubt that Chamberlain would have been fascinated.

What a place!

This is the atrium of the A wing. It's a prison

for the Victorians built 1848.

In the 19th century, the only bars here were in the windows.

And there were serious consequences

for those who tried to check out early.

Punishments would include shot drill.

You'd pick up a cannonball

and you would physically carry it across the prison yard, put it down.

You'd pick it up, you'd bring it back, you'd put it down.

You'd pick it up, you'd take it back, you'd put it down.

So at least you were doing something useful.

So, what about the diet here? What was the food like?

Well, back then it was pretty grim.

You've got very little in the way of fruit and vegetables.

It's just to give you energy to do that physical work.

-Is this is where the word porridge comes from?

-Absolutely.

You think we could try some?

Oh, I'm sure you can but it's not going to taste very nice.

Oh, good.

Porridge is still on the menu in the hotel.

And so to get a real taste of life behind bars,

Tracy has taken me to the kitchen.

So this is a far cry from the old Victorian prison kitchen

-wouldn't it be? Hey, Brian.

-How are you, sir?

I understand you're going to show us

-the finer points of the porridge.

-Yep, the finer points.

OK, so what we have here was the old-style porridge they

used to do for the prisoners. So basically just water and some salt.

Three parts water to the one part porridge.

So it's to keep the prisoners alive just...

slightly alive so they are not dead.

To keep things authentic, Bill is serving up his period

porridge in an old mess tin,

and has tried to make it more palatable by adding some berries.

But I...I don't think they're going to help.

You know, I think it's a shame that old Chamberlain

who wrote this book, the British Bouquet: An Epicurean Tour,

it's a shame he never came here to the old jail and tried the porridge.

He let us down a little bit.

Maybe the old boy was right to give it a wide berth.

The welcome wouldn't have been very friendly.

In! Now.

Sit down. Don't speak.

So, Tracy.

This is scarcely justice,

but then nobody got justice in those days, did they, anyway?

And that's the thing -

100 years before the Victorians are giving you this kind of food,

you went to prison and you paid for your bed and your board.

So you brought your food, you brought your blankets and you

could die of cold, hunger

very, very easily in the old-style prisons.

So this might look not very appetising to you today,

but to the Victorians themselves, this was probably very, very good.

I don't know what you mean. It's absolutely delicious.

I'll just put it down for the moment and have one of your strawberries.

-Help yourself.

-Thank you.

So, Mason, what I'm looking forward to is a little bit of punting,

which is traditional in the cities of Cambridge and Oxford.

And you, you are going to punt me.

-I'm going to what?

-Punt me.

-Oh, right.

So now you'll be sitting in front of me relaxing,

rather than sitting behind me relaxing.

Some things never change, you know, Ter.

-What's that huge thing you've got there?

-Is that a scaffold pole?

-No.

This is the pole that you use to actually propel the punt.

I had no idea they were that tall.

You've got to be able to reach the riverbed.

So they have to be tall because it can get up to

five meters deep in the deepest parts.

I'm afraid I have

-a previous engagement. Will you excuse me?

-No.

You, come here. You ain't going anywhere. You stay here.

You'll be fine. We'll be OK. We're in good hands.

You step on.

-OK.

-HE CHUCKLES

Go forward a little bit further.

'While Mason gets to grips with the controls,

'I settle down to take in the scenery.'

This is the life!

You all right, Ter? The meter's on.

It's not long before Mason is in sole charge of our vessel.

I can only tell you, Nick,

that it's a blessing that I can't see him.

-NICK LAUGHS

-If I could see him, I would panic.

Trust me, he's doing fine.

This is a beautiful part of the world, Nick. I've got to tell you.

-Must be a pleasure working here.

-It's an absolute pleasure.

I never tire of it. Absolutely gorgeous.

Tell me, do people swim in the Cherwell?

Not as such, but what we do get is end of exams,

the students covered in foam and confetti and everything else,

and they tend to jump in the river.

One likes to have a little mental picture of Boris Johnson or...

Or the grand Mr Cameron leaping into the Cherwell stark naked.

-Or the Bullingdons.

-I'd rather not think about that.

-No, perhaps you're right.

-NICK LAUGHS

People have been punting on the Cherwell since the 1880s,

but few have done it with the same degree of suave sophistication

as Mason and I.

-Let me throw you a strawberry.

-Oh!

I'm used to going over bridges. Not under them.

TERRY LAUGHS

I could do this all day, Mason.

BREATHING HEAVILY: Yeah, I bet you could.

It's tiring, really tiring.

Using all your core muscles.

"If you schedule a visit for spring or autumn,

"you'll be rewarded by the sight of hurried young men with black

"gowns flying from their shoulders."

Have you seen a hurried young man?

-I've never...

-With a black gown flying from his shoulders?

Not at the moment.

I've seen several spotty youths on bicycles, but...

Maybe that's the new student.

In this city of scholars, it would be rude

not to squeeze in a visit to part of the university.

So, I shall be donning the lab coat and heading into a hi-tech

microbiology laboratory where students are working hard to

unlock the secrets of one of the most important

ingredients in nearly all our food - protein.

A protein, it's a

small molecule, it's a chain of small subunits.

Here, I can quite show you here.

I mean, if you think of a protein...

-And there I was thinking they were prayer beads.

-HE LAUGHS

It's a long chain made up of hundreds of amino acids, which is

then folded up together into a defined shape like wet

spaghetti, so the string inside this shape I have here...

-..as a representation of a protein structure.

-Do you know,

you're putting people off their food.

Knowing as much as you do, do you actually enjoy eating anything?

Yes, I do. It's...

The great thing is, is that the more you know about the science

behind how something tastes and how it works,

the greater chances you have at success in baking it and making it.

To better humanity, Peter is putting his knowledge of proteins to

good use by trying to create the world's greatest pizza.

He's a founding member of Oxford's Pizza Society where

some of the brightest scientific minds in Britain,

and just for today, Mason McQueen,

get together to solve the elusive mystery of the perfect pizza.

Somehow this doesn't strike me as serious research.

-So how long has this society been going?

-About a year.

Yeah, we are quite a new society. We just started about a year ago.

And how do you get in? Can I get in, or I'll be blackballed, right?

Lead me into the Pizza Society.

A very distinguished group I can see here.

Mason, how come you are with them?

-As soon as he got the smell of food, of course.

-I'm here.

Straight into the society.

-So this, unless I miss my guess, is a margarita.

-No.

This is a classic ham and pineapple with a little bit of a twist.

We've got some great smoked cheeses and some fantastic English ham.

But, look, just because you know about proteins and enzymes,

there's no need to argue with me,

-you know?

-HE LAUGHS

-Am I going to be allowed to have a slice of this?

-Oh, yes, please.

Would you mind slicing it?

I kind of feel that I can see a protein or enzyme bubbling

away there.

Like that one, look. Watch it go down.

That's the trouble with you, isn't it?

-You have no academic potentials whatsoever.

-You take that back.

-I'm sorry.

-I'm a student of the K-nowledge.

-I completed the Knowledge.

-Of course you are.

I studied at Oxford, right. It was Oxford Street.

No right turns, left turns. That's the only difference.

Dreaming spires, groves of academe...

and traffic all over the place.

Can I hold that book? You look too intelligent.

Let me... Can I have the book?

You know, that's the nicest thing you said to me.

Do I look brainier? Tell the truth.

Um, I wouldn't say that but just the occasional

glimmer of intelligence crosses your...crosses your nose.

Cheers, Ter.

ENGINE STARTS