09-May-2026
Bonnag... I've referenced the controversy over this characteristically Manx product before. Is it a fruit cake? No, not really. Not originally, anyway. Way back, it was a plainer thing. Cooked on the griddle, and made of barley flour, with perhaps a little dried fruit if you had any handy. I'm not sure I've ever had the real deal.
I was reminded of it when I met up with an old schoolfriend recently. Apparently, I wrote a poem about bonnag in our early years in high school. I have no recollection of this, but for sure, my mum, ever the aspiring poet, would have "helped" me in this endeavour.
As bonnag was now back in the forefront of my consciousness, I remembered reading about the success of Greens Cafe in the World Bonnag Championships earlier this year.
Let's walk to St Johns, I said, and have bonnag at Greens. That way we'll feel we've really deserved it.
Spoiler alert: We walked to St Johns, and there was no bonnag that day...
BUT... Greens do excellent scones (up there with Traa dy Liooar's, I think, and therefore joint top of my current scone leaderboard).
AND... We had an awesome walk. We followed the route of the old railway line (now a walking and cycle path), and though we've done the whole length of this track before, we've never done it at this time of year. And it was stunning. Birdsong literally all the way. Wildflowers likewise, spilling down every hedgerow: Primroses, bluebells, anemones, campions, buttercups... Beautiful views of the hills, and remarkably quiet, given the road is actually not that far away.
So I'll just leave you to enjoy the pictures:
On the way down to Braddan Bridge
The changing wildflowers of this churchyard... When we first came, it was full of snowdrops. Now it's doing wild garlic
The benches have gone up in the churchyard, in preparation for the TT in a few weeks. I remember watching the races from here when I was very small. The guy in front of us had something weird going on with his ear, and it put me off my banana sandwiches...
And now we're on the track
I think these (growing in some wet land to the side of the track) are what we locally call blughtyn. The English name is marsh marigold or kingcup, and they're fairly rare
And finally, we're approaching St Johns
From front door to cafe, we took 3.5 hours. But this did include talking for quite a while to Mabel's human (Mabel is a sheepdog who's very obedient, but when told to go, sets off like a bullet from a gun), stopping for toilets and coffee in Crosby, and taking a fair few photos.
Highly recommended, bonnag or no.