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cheap hydrochlorothiazide “Is there the faintest hint here,” said Nick, over glasses of a lovely tokaji (the wine list is so terrifying that we had to flee to Hungary on affordability grounds), “of prissiness?” He was gazing at a dish of cannon of Cumbrian lamb – deep pink and gloriously tender – with lamb haslet, Roscoff onion, roasted salsify and smoked potato in which the size of the serving was in inverse proportion to that of the outsize plate. “The taste is fabulous,” said Nick, “but if there is one Cabinet minister I wouldn’t bring here, it has to be Eric Pickles.” My shoulder and belly of suckling piglet with cep, caramelised onion and trompette mushroom was ridiculously melty, having been cooked for 36 hours, but lacked the lamb’s sublime depth of flavour.