Motorheads inc.

  Despite having a load of cooking to do for our chicken dinner, (see yesterday), I still found time to sneak out with a couple of the fellas to see what was happening at the local race track. We'd spoken to some of the guys at the pizza restaurant to find out why they were all there and found out there was a big classic race meeting. Most of the participants were privateers with enough spare cash to indulge their inclination to play with cars, which they'd no doubt picked up as kids.

  When I say, 'local track', for anyone with the vaguest knowledge of racing, this is one of the truly legendary circuits. Spa is extremely technical with lots of elevation changes and is probably the single most exciting feature in the whole of Belgium, a country so bland that it feels like the spare room of western Europe. The plan was to head straight for the pits so we could get properly immersed in the atmosphere and it was surprisingly easy to get in. We parked in the paddock and walked in, suddenly noticing we were staring right down the barrel of Eau Rouge, arguably the most notorious corner in F1. I'd normally roll my eyes if anyone said this to me but I felt a bit of a shiver. It was a combination of the excitement of meeting some infamous celebrity and the fact that none of the pictures and filming I've seen capture the brutality of the corner.

  After a stint watching cars hurtle down the hill, through Eau Rouge and away, we ambled in to the pits. The meeting was made up of loads of different races of all sorts of classes all running together so there was an incredible range of vehicles filling every corner you could find, not just the actual garages. Though we're more bike than car enthusiasts, we couldn't help but be transfixed by some of the exotica. I'll not bore you with tons of photos so you'll have to imagine the endless parade of weapons from the sort of hatchbacks you see on the road, to early sixties Mustangs and Stingrays, modern Porsche, old Capris and million pound sports cars. It was a bit like being at the Goodwood festival of speed but a thousand times better.

There was a knock on the door and...  'Trick or Treat, Bitch!?'

  The next day, after a breakfast of scrambled eggs with caramelised onion and tomatoes, we needed an excuse, no matter how feeble, to go out and frolic. Another legendary arena for gladiatorial combat is the even more notorious Nurburgring, about an hour and a half away via the twistiest routes we could find. I'm wondering if it was just a coincidence but as we got closer, the average speed of the traffic we encountered seemed to get faster and faster.

  There was a touring car race happening when we arrived so we got a good spot on the balcony where we could take in the highlights being televised on massive screens. Curiosity sated, we saddled back up and got as far away as we could as fast as we could. I could feel the benefits of having had the track time in Spain a few weeks ago cos my road riding certainly seemed brisk, smooth and comfortable compared to before.

  The two days of appreciation of motoring culture helped us work up an appetite so it was quite lucky I had decided what to cook and had got the shopping in before our jaunt. Once home, and after a quick dip in the hot tub, I set about creating something between a pad thai and a Thai curry. There was ginger, garlic, soy sauce, peanut butter and lime available here so it was quite lucky I had brought a block of creamed coconut to complete the mix.

  In the creamy sauce I cooked carrot, mange tout, onion and mushroom, before chucking in a big bag of frozen raw prawns and letting them get to the warm side of defrosted before killing the heat. Each bowl got a pile of noodles and a big scoop of prawn veg mix draped over the top. We're off tomorrow so there are some fingers that are tightly crossed to ensure we stay dry for the journey back to Calais. We'd appreciate it if you crossed yours too.

Kirk out

Chefsebastian.com