On one of our trips to the UK, we (that would be me, my wife, one of my daughters and one of my wife's sisters) were headed for Bangor, Wales, located on the Northern coast of Wales. We arrived at our B&B late afternoon and asked our B&B host to recommend a restaurant for dinner. She suggested a pub just a short distance from the B&B. At the appointed time, we loaded up and headed for the pub. We had no trouble finding the pub but there was no activity around the pub whatsoever. The women remained in the car while I went in to check things out. There was no one in the pub, no diners, drinkers or bartender. I shouted out my best Tiger "Hello" and a lady came out.
I asked if they served dinner and she said "no". She could speak a little English but I did not know one word of Welsh. But she was able to tell me there was a hotel out on the waterfront that was excellent and their dining room did not limit their clients to just hotel guests. She gave me directions, which were quite simple, and off we went, about a mile or mile and one half without having to make a single turn.
Arriving at the hotel, we went to the dining room and was told there was a private party in the dining room but if we didn't mind, we could sit in the adjoining pub and order from the dining room menu. In the pub were several tables for four. There were benches against the wall and chairs on the other side. There was just enough room between the tables for those of us sitting on the benches to squeeze through.
At the table next to where I was sitting was a lady I judged to be in her 40's and weighing about 150 - 160 pounds. She was enjoying a pint of ale as she awaited her dinner. A few minutes later one of the servers brought her a platter piled high with what looked like deep fried battered sardines. I watched her dig into that huge platter of whatever it was and curiosity overcame old Joe21. I asked her what she was eating. She told me what it was in Welsh. Since I am not fluent in Welsh, I still don't know what it was so I'll stick with my initial guess that it was deep fried battered sardines.
She polished off every thing on that platter and I thought that was her entre. But I was mistaken, that was her appetizer. The server brought out two plates filled with various items plus another pint of ale. Before we had finished our dinner, she had eaten every thing on the two plates and ordered another pint of ale. She downed that last pint in nothing flat and departed the premises before we had finished our dinner. And that, girls and boys, is called a Welsh Eating Machine.