Mucho Gusto, Vienna!

Today I’ve learned another value of food. Food quickly introduces you to a place and culture in a direct, genuine way.

We arrived in Vienna early Wednesday morning, having taken the overnight train from Cologne. As we began exploring Vienna with sleepy heads and crusty eyes, I was completely overwhelmed. Full of massive stately 18^th century museums, palaces, opera house, and medieval cathedrals, Vienna was a lot to take in. I felt like an awe-struck child, wandering aimlessly throughout the winding streets. Starving, we looked up a cheap cafe to grap a bite and decided on Trzesniewski, a small, discreet cultural institution, serving various pates and spreads on rye bread alongside mini mugs of beer. Women in yellow aprons meted out the rectangle rye bread, topped with mashed eggs, salmon, tuna, carrots, mushrooms, and speck. The place with packed so we stood by the heater and gobbled our food. It was delicious!

Now I don’t feel quite so lost; now I have a tangible feel of Vienna; now I feel connected to this vast bustling city, all because of a little piece of bread topped with tuna and mushrooms and a swig of beer.

In Spanish, when you’ve been introduced to a person, you can use ‘mucho gusto’ to say ‘nice to meet you.’ Now, after our little lunch at Trzesniewski, I feel I can say, ‘Mucho gusto, Vienna!’

Devonian White Christmas

I was very nervous to spend Christmas this year away from home, family, and the warm California Christmas weather I’ve grown up with. It was indeed very difficult to be away. But Alun and Devon made my first English Christmas an enchanting and magical one, full of much cheer and incredible food!

This December has been the coldest on record for England and, as you can see from a previous post, there has been plenty of snow. Devon received a heavy dousing of snow right before we arrived and it remained the whole week we were there, creating a magical wintery setting. The roads were icy, restricting travel and forcing us into a lovely, leisurely Christmas.

Christmas for me, like most of us, is full of hustle and bustle. And Christmas Day is usually even busier, driving here and there, between parents’ houses, in-laws, church, etc. This year, in the village of Bishopsteignton, Christmas was a much different pace. We were still busy preparing for meals, shopping, cooking, decorating, and visiting lots of people, but there was a steadiness or slowness to the pace, maybe because everyone lives down the street from each other, maybe because the cold snowy weather restricted excessive travel, I don’t know. But it was certainly a peaceful, intimate, English village Christmas.

We cut our own 4 foot tree from a lot in Newton Abbot. We drove to the South Hams and picked up a goose from a family whose children used to be Alun’s pupils. I purchased a pair of Wellington Boots (Wellies) so I could properly tromp around in the snow, and we took several stunning walks around the village through the snow on Christmas Day and Boxing Day. We took in the stunning views of Dartmoor covered in snow during a cautious drive. We enjoyed midnight mass at Shaldon, and sipped on homemade eggnog afterwards with Nick and Alun in front of a roaring fire. We feasted Christmas morning on Buck Fizzes (mimosas), homemade cinnamon rolls, smoked salmon and scrambled eggs while entertaining several visits from friends of Alun. Later we went to the pub up the road for a pint with the neighbors. It was time for the goose in to get in the oven, and while Alun worked on the feast, Ryan and I took in the majestic views of our snowy walk above the village. In the evening, Bob, a sharp witted, kind 90 year old man joined us for an English Christmas feast of goose, ham, roasted potatoes and parsnips, brussel sprouts, cabbage, applesauce and goose gravy! It was a magical meal, filling us all with merriment and an overwhelming sense of blessing. My Christmas pudding finished off the night with a success!

We finished the weekend with an enchanting walk on Boxing Day along the Exe estuary, along blanketed icy fields, surrounded in a thick hazy fog that made the whole experience rather ethereal. It was magical and the perfect ending to a weekend full of great meals and great company, all at a pace that allowed for the blessings and spirit of Christmas to be fully appreciated. My lesson this Christmas: Tis a gift to be simple—with a full belly in front of a roasting fire!

Proper Christmas Pudding!

Christmas Pudding. Ah, that beloved dessert that embodies the very essence of being English at Christmas...so rich, so decadent, so time-consuming, and so potentially awful if not done properly! I knew my Christmas experience in England would not be complete unless I attempted to make this traditional and quintessential English dessert, and so, in the face of potentially ruining Christmas with an improper pudding, I offered to make the Christmas Pudding that we would eat at Alun's.

Let me introduce the process of making a Christmas pudding with a few pros and cons:

Pro: you can make this well in advance, even up to three weeks before Christmas, as it contains so much brandy that it is self-preserving, leaving you lots of time to do last minute shopping the week of Christmas

Con: to make a proper Christmas Pudding takes time; set aside a full day to make this

Pro: with all the dried fruit and brandy, it can be very delicious!

Con: with all the dried fruit and brandy, it can be very awful.

Christmas Pudding has acquired a bit of a bad reputation which I think is mostly due to the mass quantities of commercialized Christmas puddings on the market. Like most traditional, classic baked goods, if it is done right, with quality ingredients, not rushed, and with much love, it will come out beautiful! So do not be afraid to try this out, for there is good reason why this is such a long enduring Christmas classic: done properly, it is sinfully delicious!!!! This one turned out perfect!

Proper English Christmas Pudding

This is my slightly modified version from Delia:

4 oz. Breadcrumbs

4 oz. Shredded Beef Suet (Atorra)

2 oz. Self-rising Flour

8 oz. Brown Sugar

1/4 tsp. + pinch Cinnamon

1/2 tsp. Nutmeg

1/4 tsp. Cloves

1/4 tsp. Ginger

4 oz. Raisins

4 oz. Sultana, Golden Raisins

4 oz. Dried Apricots

4 oz. Dried Cranberries

2 oz. Mixed Peel

2 Tbsp. Brandy or Rum

1 apple, peeled, cored, diced

Lemon Zest from one lemon

Orange Zest from one orange

2 Eggs

5 oz. Stout

1 tsp. Vanilla

Directions:

Begin by combining all the dry ingredients in a large bowl (breadcrumbs, suet, flour, sugar, spices). In a side bowl, combine all the dried fruit with the brandy (plus some if you'd like it to be boozy) and let soak. Whisk together the eggs, stout, and vanilla. Combine the apples, zest, soaked dried fruit and remaining brandy with the dry ingredients. Stir until combined. Pour the egg and stout mixture into the large bowl and stir until thoroughly combined. Cover the bowl and let sit overnight.

The next day, butter a 2 pint (4 cup) basin/mold and pack the pudding mixture into the greased mold. Wrap the entire bowl with parchment paper and foil or even better, with the saved wrappings from sticks of butter. Place the wrapped pudding in a steamer over a pot full of boiling water and let steam for 8 hours. Check the water level frequently to make sure the pot doesn't run dry. Let cool completely and re-wrap with new foil. Store in a cool dark place for up to 3 weeks until Christmas! On Christmas Day, re-heat by steaming again for 2 hours. Remove from mold, pour a couple of tablespoons of brandy on the pudding and light on fire! Slice and serve with brandy butter.

Stollen Away from Home!

I don't know if it is my German heritage, but nothing says Christmas more to me than a marzipan stollen. I love stollen. Every year I look forward to buying a stollen from Trader Joe's at Christmas. But a couple of years ago I suddenly thought, 'why not give it a go?' It turns out to be a pretty straight forward yeast bread, but like most things that you start making at home, you'll never buy a store bought one again!

As this is my first Christmas away from home, I knew I had to make a stollen here in England.

Chopping the dried fruit, as the bits stuck to my finger, I started to relax; kneading the soft yellow dough, it was as if I was the one getting a massage; brushing the risen loaves with melted butter, my gooey fingers felt anointed with merriment; and sifting powdered sugar on the cooled baked loaves, it was as if I was watching the snow fall from the sky. As I sat down to eat a slice, I felt completely embraced in peacefulness and Christmas spirit. It was the closest I could get to being home, and it felt pretty good.

I use the recipe in The Joy of Cooking as a base and add whatever dried fruit or nuts I have on hand, so feel free to mix it up. Irma calls for mixed peel and slivered almonds, but I opted out of these this time. You can use rum or brandy and I like to use lots of marzipan. May the peace and warmth of the season fill you as you make these loaves, wherever you are. Enjoy and Merry Christmas!

Christmas Stollen

Adapted from The Joy of Cooking

yields 2-6 loaves (depending on size)

1 Tbsp. + 1 tsp. Dry Active Yeast

1 1/2 c. milk, scalded and cooled to 110F (lukewarm)

1 c. sultanas (golden raisins)

1 c. raisins

1 c. chopped dried apricots

3/4 c. sugar

1 1/2 c. butter

3 eggs

3/4 tsp. salt

3/4 tsp. lemon/orange zest

2 Tbsp. rum or brandy

6-8 cups of all-purpose flour

Directions: (do not be put off by the length of the directions, I just like detail!)

Combine all the dried fruit in a bowl and soak in brandy or rum (you may use more than the amount listed if desired, I always do). Set aside to let soak. Meanwhile, combine the lukewarm milk with the yeast and let sit ten minutes or until the yeast has dissolved. You may need to stir the yeast to assist it dissolving. Add one cup of flour to the yeasty milk mixture, stir to combine, and let sit until doubled in size, anywhere from 10-30 minutes (make sure the mixture is in a bowl large enough to accommodate it doubling in size). Cream the butter and sugar together with a hand beater until light and fluffy. Add the eggs one by one, mixing thoroughly in between each addition. Add the salt, zest, soaked fruit and its liquid, and a little almond or vanilla extract if so desired. Stir with a wooden spoon. Begin adding the flour, one cup at a time, until you get a soft, slightly sticky dough that comes together. Turn the dough out onto the counter with some flour and knead, for about ten minutes, or until you get a nice smooth dough, adding flour as needed if the dough gets too sticky to handle. Cover the dough with plastic wrap or a towel and let sit until doubled in size, about an hour. Portion the dough out into two to six portions, depending on how large you want your loaves.

Flatten each portion out into ovals, lay a strip of marzipan on one side, and fold one third of the dough over the marzipan and onto the other two-thirds. Do this to the remaining portions; place on a baking sheet, brush with melted butter, and let rise until doubled again, perhaps another 30-60 minutes, depending on how warm your kitchen is. Bake your loaves in a 350F oven until golden brown, about 30-45 minutes, depending on how large your loaves are. Once out of the oven, brush with melted butter, dust with powdered sugar, and let cool completely. Once completely cooled, dust with powdered sugar again and wrap in foil or wax paper to store.

Let it Snow, Let it Snow, Let it Snow!

We have had some very exciting weather here in England the last few days! Heavy snow, below freezing temperatures, and lots of ice has meant that Heathrow Airport has been shut down for the past three days, the Eurostar scaled back to three trains a day, and most buses and trains canceled! In London we had between 5 and 6 inches of snow on Saturday while Devon, which rarely gets any snow in the winter, saw over 8 inches of snow on Sunday! We've dealt with these white blankets by doing what most people seem to do: stay inside! Here are pictures looking out our flat onto our street.

On Saturday, however, we braved the snow and cold to explore the Real Food Christmas market on the Southbank. Ruben and Ryan had several fine snow fights and we warmed ourselves with Creole veggie fritters, le diot patate raclette (a French potato and sausage mess, at left), mulled wine, and churros con chocolate! Though freezing, we really enjoyed the market and all the artisan food vendors. Some how food always tastes more delicious when experienced within the clutches of severe weather. That must be why camping meals always taste so fantastic, even if it's just a can of Dinty Moore Stew or corned beef hash!

On Tuesday morning, with Heathrow still closed and St. Pancras still jammed, we went to Paddington Station to catch our train to Bishopsteignton in Devon where we will be spending Christmas with Alun. The snow gods were smiling on us and we were able to get our train without trouble to Devon. Riding the train through the countryside we saw field after field of white. It was beautiful.

There isn't much snow in Teignmouth and Bishopsteignton, but everything is a soft, misty gray, covered with frost. Last night we had some freezing fog and woke up to hoar-frost, in which everything was covered in ice even though it didn't snow last night. I didn't know such phenomena existed! I am learning much about cold weather and different types of ice formation. Needless to say, I bought my very first hot water bottle today, and can't wait to go to bed tonight. Time to tuck in, stay warm, and let the Christmas baking begin!

These are my snow prints from when I took the trash and recycling out. I don't know if there was much point though, as the trash-men and postmen are nowhere to be found!

Ode to the Hot Water Bottle

A quick post about a non-food related, but exceptionally exhilarating new discovery that deserves its own separate post: hot water bottles. While not a new invention (containers for warmth in bed date back to the 16th century), and not exclusive to England, having grown up in Southern California where a cold house is 65F (18C), I've never owned, let alone seen a hot water bottle before!

When we arrived last weekend in chilly Tollesbury, with the temperature registering at 14F (-10C), David offered me a hot water bottle, encased in a knitted hot pink covering.

"I like the hot pink," I told David.

"Well I just bought it anticipating your delicate sensibilities," he replied with a smile.

I tried to defend my sensibilities as being very strong, but who was I kidding? I couldn't wait to get into bed with that hot water bottle at my feet. I watched with awe as David poured freshly boiled water into the inner rubber lining. Pushing the water to the opening to let any air escape, he screwed on the cap with the precision of a scientist. As I lovingly carried the hot pink water bottle upstairs, it grew warmer and warmer and I could barely contain my amazement and excitement!

In bed with the bottle at my feet, the chill from the sheets immediately evaporated and my icy feet were warm and cozy in minutes. The area around the bottle started getting untouchably hot, so I moved the bottle around. With careful navigation and timing, I was able to get the entire bed thoroughly warmed, relieve my lower back aches, and comfort my digesting stomach all in a matter of minutes! "What an invention! Pure genius," I thought! Except now I was too excited to go to sleep. The warm embrace of the bed quickly lured me to sleep and when I awoke in the morning, refreshed by an incredibly peaceful night's sleep, I noticed a sliver of warmth still emanating from the pink bottle. Wow! I was beyond impressed. See my morning-after face in the above photo--that's the face of a restful, warm night of sleep.

Just when I thought I was the queen of sleep, a new device has showed me the truth: I have much to learn about warm sleeping technologies in England. And its eco-friendly too! You don't have to run the heater all night with a hot water bottle at your side!

I'm jumping into bed with a hottie tonight!

More Snow and Lots of Food in Essex

Last weekend, as the snow continued to fall and temperatures continued to drop, we escaped to Tollesbury in Essex to visit David. The snow was piled high and the temperature even colder (-10C when we arrived Friday night in Witham). But like any visit to see David, the weekend couldn't have been warmer and more full of merriment, with meal after delicious meal, many roaring fires, and the discovery of hot water bottles (the most ingenious invention)!

David braved the icy roads to pick us up from the train station and as we drove the narrow, snow-covered, hedgerow-lined roads back to Tollesbury, cutting through blanketed fields and frozen fog, I realized we were entering a magical wintry scene that felt worlds away from London.

David welcomed us that evening with a meal to really warm us through: mashed potatoes, peas, roasted carrots and parsnips, and the best chicken and ham pie ever! David is a true epicurean with, like all excellent chefs, a standard for quality that is uncompromising. His whole wheat pie crust, topped with sesame seeds, was flaky yet rich and with a crumb so tender it melted in your mouth. Eating in front of his roaring wood fire with glasses of red wine, we were thoroughly warmed.

Our plans for a foodie exploration of the area on Saturday were postponed til Sunday and so Ryan and I walked around Tollesbury, along the coast and harbor, through churchyards and graveyards, and indulged our giddiness in the plethora of snow.

Here I am feigning innocence before hitting Ryan with a superbly packed snowball. That evening David orchestrated a feast of a meal for a large group of us at the Maypole, a sit-down Chinese restaurant that David kept referring to as 'blingy.'

On Sunday, with the snow mostly melted, we packed in visits to the Wilkin and Sons jam factory in Tiptree, Blackwells rare breed farm near Coggeshall, the Food Company in Colchester, and a visit to Father Antony at St John's Greek Orthodox Monastery in Tolleshunt Knights.

I tried making friends with the geese at Blackwells Farm but they mostly just squawked and hissed at me. Our visit to the Food Company, a mega foodie market/shop/cafe, included yummy paninis, espresso, mince meat pies and a hot chocolate exploding with marshmallows from an enthusiastic waiter whose favorite word was 'awesome.' This was nicely juxtaposed to the humility that marked our hosts at the monastery where we enjoyed thoughtful and genuine conversation over milk-less tea with Father Antony and Father Melchizedek. And as if our adventurous, exploratory day wasn't enough, David labored over another

flawless meal of steak, braised cabbage with bacon, mashed potatoes, caramelized onions and mushrooms, and roasted sweet potatoes and parsnips that we heartily enjoyed in the company of Sue and Simon. We finished the evening with churros and chocolate ganache that I made with the assistance of David's well equipped kitchen. It was another merry evening, complete with another roaring fire.

As we took the train back to London that evening and I reflected on the wonderfully rich and full weekend we had with David, the many scenes and layers of Essex we had seen, I realized that cold weather isn't so bad. With the right meals, company, and a hot water bottle or two, even the coldest winter can be made warmer and merrier than a summer's day!

Thanksgiving, Barmy Millie, and Snow

Where has November gone? Somehow this month just whizzed by. I've been so busy with school, friend visits, Real Bread, Thanksgiving, and staying warm, that I didn't realize how long it had been since my last post.

Mandy, my dear friend and fellow pastry chef, came to London with her husband Corey to visit for 10 days. We visited many great food markets, cozy pubs, and cute neighborhoods. Like every experience with them, their visit was filled with exploration, silliness, adventure, and good old fashion fun! And at the heart of their visit was a memorable Thanksgiving, full of warmth, merriment, laughter, and really good food.

We hosted twelve people for Thanksgiving at our tiny flat and were surprised at how comfortably we all fit in! Shannon and Sasha shared the cooking duty with me (braving the tube at rush hour to bring their contributions), Mandy and I worked on pies in the early morning, the turkey perfumed of rosemary and garlic, and the whole feast came out bountiful, rich, and delicious. Karen and her family completed our company and the whole evening seemed to twinkle all around the edges with warm magic (I'm sure the mulled wine contributed to that effect). We coveted the particularly thick English whipped cream atop our pies (I think the cream was extra high in fat because it was so stiff, even at soft peaks!) and lingered over our warm beverages. Moose farkle, a Midwest dice game, entertained us until the wee hours, along with a bottle of aquavit, a Norwegian liqueur Mandy and Corey brought from Oslo. It was an evening I am truly thankful for; one I will remember for a long time to come.

This past week also saw the arrival of a new flatmate for us: Barmy Millie! No we didn't get a dog or cat; something even more exciting...I began my own sourdough starter! After all the time I've been spending at Real Bread, I've been inspired to start baking my own bread at home again, but this time I wanted to make my own starter and ditch the dry instant yeast. So, after consulting various bread gurus, I combined equal parts organic, stone-ground rye flour and London tap water, adding a cup of each every day for seven consecutive days. And like all bakers, and with the help of Mandy, I even named my starter: Barmy Millet or Barmy Millie for short. You can see Millie getting her daily feeding in the picture. Covered with a damp tea towel, she has been growing and festering for the last week emitting some very yeasty smells, and bubbling away, all signs of a healthy starter. I can't wait to make the first loaf! Nothing warms me to the core more than an oven full of bread!

As this past week throughout the UK has turned frigid, I've realized another important value of baking...heat! Our little oven warms our flat quicker and better than any of our tuckered out radiators. Part of what made Thanksgiving so wonderful and cozy was that while outside was hovering around freezing, our flat was made delightfully warm as the oven hummed away all day, cooking pies and turkey. London has been dodging the snow predictions of the past few days, until today. We woke up this morning to our backyard covered in a beautiful dusting, as if someone had sifted powdered sugar everywhere. I felt like a kid at Disneyland! At the library today, I was mesmerized, staring out the big glass windows at the thick snowflakes flying around outside; it was like being in a snow globe all day! The novelty and beauty of the snow is still new and fresh for me, so I love the snow. But as soon as the cold sneaks through my six layers and it's no longer beautiful, I know what to do: go home, make a cup of tea, turn on the oven, and start baking!

November has been a busy month, full of friends, work, studying, bubbling starter, and cold. One thing's for sure: this has been a month and year of plenty. And I give thanks, particularly to the bounty and warmth of the oven.

Reading Week, Denmark, RealBread--Stepping Back

Isn't it ironic how time set aside for catching up can tend to set you farther back because you cram too much catching-up-stuff in? This past week was reading week, a week of no classes intended for students to catch up on reading. Since I've been on top of my readings, we decided to take advantage of some bargain 10 pound airplane tickets to Arhus, Denmark for three days. It was beautiful! At right I am looking over Arhus Bay from Riis Kov, the orange carpeted forest we walked through to get to our hostel. It couldn't have been anymore beautiful. The crisp air and vibrant colors, it was pure rejuvenation.

It was also cold, hovering around freezing the entire time and snowing on us in Aalborg. But with my impenetrable six layers of clothes, decadent coffee/cafe culture, filling and complex beers, and rich, cinnamon-chocolate pastries, we couldn't have been made warmer!

Upon our return to England, we had a wonderfully polite and personable Spanish friend stay with us for a night. The following day I interviewed for an internship/volunteer position with the RealBread Campaign and it was such a perfect match, that I started three days later! I will work 16 hours a week, organizing Lessons for Loaf, a pilot program that puts bakers in primary school classrooms to give hands on demonstrations of traditional bread making. Saturday and Sunday we feasted with Alun who had come to visit for two days on his way back to Exeter from East Anglia. I made a spicy rogan josh, we enjoyed massive pizzas in Soho, and wonderful sausage and mash at home on Sunday. After attending a high Anglican-Catholic mass at All Saint's Church Sunday morning, we were delightfully surprised to be warmly invited for a gin and tonic after the service in the bar beneath the church! Our bubbly elderly host, Jean, asked if we wanted our drinks Protestant or Catholic (small or large pours) and described an enduring congregation devoted to community, inclusiveness, and equality. Looking around, I saw an incredible mix of people, it was certainly not the type of parishioners I would expect at a high Anglo-Catholic church. This is London: a place where communities defy boundaries, categories, and singular identities.

As I prepare now for classes this week and reflect back on reading week and all the reading I didn't do, I can't help but grumble, "what a lousy reading week, I didn't get anything done!" But as I think about the peaceful Arhus Bay, the merry pints shared, the communion over warm meals, and the many delightful surprises, I realize that I am actually farther ahead because of the opportunities and lessons that revealed themselves this week. Maybe taking a step back can propel you further ahead than any "catching up" can do.

Check out Real Bread: http://www.sustainweb.org/realbread/

Guy Fawkes Day and Bonfire Toffee

I didn't know much about Guy Fawkes Night before arriving in England, other than that it involved lots of fireworks, bonfires, and burning of effigies. But as November 5th approached and I saw the growing anticipation and excitement of the holiday with each passing day, I realized that this wasn't just an excuse to play with explosives and fire, this was a serious English cultural celebration.

Guy Fawkes was a member of a Catholic conspiracy group who attempted to blow up Parliament and the Protestant King James I in the Gunpowder Plot of 1605. (They had placed 36 barrels of gunpowder under Parliament, enough to blow up the entire House of Commons, the king, and all the political elite--imagine how that would have changed history!). The plot was betrayed and foiled and the day has now turned into a day of celebration of English Protestantism, thanksgiving, and general revelry. (For more history and info, see link below).

The best part of most cultural celebrations to me, is of course, the food. Traditional Guy Fawkes foods include toffee apples, potato pie with pickled red cabbage, baked potatoes, and treacle desserts, including bonfire toffee and parkin. So to try to understand the spirit of Guy Fawkes night, I made some traditional bonfire toffee. Like usual toffee, this is made by cooking sugar to hard crack, but it is made with brown sugar and black treacle (molasses) which gives it an especially burnt and sharp flavor and makes it black, looking like bits of coal pulled from the bonfire. It's easy to make and although the taste is a bit surprising, after a few pieces it is really delicious! I brought the toffee to my foodie classmates on Friday and all of them, a range of nationalities and taste buds, decreed it to be delicious and ate many pieces. So try this toffee; as soon as you taste it you'll be able to imagine yourself surrounded by burning effigies in London!

Bonfire Toffee (Treacle Toffee)

4 oz. (1 stick) unsalted butter

2 Tbsp. water

1 Tbsp. white vinegar

1 lb. brown sugar

8 oz. (225 g) black treacle (or molasses)

Note: If you've made caramel or toffee before, this is very similar, but even easier! Like with making caramel, make sure you use a large, deep stainless steel pot, as the boiling sugar will rise and spit as it gets hotter and hotter. Even if you think your pot is too big, it's not; the sugar will grow, and it's a nightmare to clean up boiled-over cooked sugar, so go with your big pot. Non-stick, teflon pans will start to melt with prolonged high heat, so make sure you use a pot that is stainless steel, copper, or something with a high heat tolerance. Copper pots are ideal because they provide the most even distribution of heat.

Directions:

Put butter, water, and vinegar in a large pot over low heat and cook until butter is completely melted. Add brown sugar and treacle and stir with a wooden spoon until all sugar is moist and dissolved. Turn heat up to medium-high and cook for about 10 minutes, until mixture reaches 280F on a thermometer. Do NOT stir the liquid once you have turned up the heat and it starts to boil; stirring the boiling liquid can cause crystallization (leaving a granular texture) and also increases your chances of getting burned, so let it boil all on its own. As it approaches 280F the small bubbles will turn into thick glossy bubbles that leave large potholes in the sugar when they pop, like pancake batter just before you flip a pancake. When the temperature has been reached, very carefully pour the toffee into a buttered 6 or 7 inch square pan. The size and shape of the pan ultimately doesn't matter, it's just about how thick you want the toffee. I doubled this recipe and poured it into two different sized pans to play with the thickness. Make sure before you pour the toffee into the pan that you have the pan positioned in a safe, cool place for the toffee to sit and cool; once the toffee is in the pan, the pan is too hot and dangerous to move. Let cool completely (overnight) and then break into pieces with a hammer or sharp knife. I also read instructions in an old British recipe from 1922 to turn out the toffee while warm but not too hot to handle. Stretch into sticks and cut into 1 inch pieces.

For more info about Toffee Treacle:

http://www.timesonline.co.uk/tol/life_and_style/food_and_drink/article2662748.ece

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bonfire_toffee

For more detailed info about Guy Fawkes Night and the Gunpowder Plot:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Guy_Fawkes_Night

http://www.viewlondon.co.uk/whatson/guy-fawkes-london-feature-337.html

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gunpowder_plot

Verdi's Ice Cream Intermission

Ryan and I have recently discovered the secret to experiencing the wealth of London's cultural scene on a starving-student budget: "restricted view seats." Many cultural venues offer at least a handful of seats at ridiculously reduced rates due to a slightly obstructed view, ranging from sitting behind a pillar to a peculiarly placed arm rail. And so, with this new knowledge, Ryan and I found ourselves primping and preening ourselves on Monday evening in preparation for the London Philharmonic's Verdi's Requiem with Bart's Choir at the Royal Albert Hall, all for the price of 6 quid each! For a price that low, we'll sit behind a pillar any day!

Our excitement and anticipation for this performance had been building and building for days. I was especially looking forward to the opportunity to dress up and experience some fine music, a welcome contrast to the scruffy, hermit-student listening to iTunes that I have turned into.

We took the tube and walked from Knightsbridge station along Hype Park. As the Royal Albert came into full view, we stopped in awe and took in the majestically grand Victorian architecture of the rotunda, made even more dramatic by the night lighting.

We climbed to the top level for our seats and were ecstatic to find that we had the best seats in the house! They're selling these for 6 pounds? Are they crazy?! There was indeed a bar obstructing our view of the lower right part of the stage, but we could see the entire hall beautifully and had prime views of the singers, percussion (very important for Verdi's Requiem), and organ pipes. Needless to say, we were tickled pink. And the music hadn't even started yet. Once the music did start, I was even more amazed as the music seemed to transport me to a celestial world that was deeply moving and powerful.

By the time intermission rolled around I didn't think it was possible to be any more surprised or amazed. But as I walked to the ladies' loo, I saw a couple of ladies eating Haagen-Dazs out of mini ice cream cartons. What?! I blinked my eyes hard, not believing what I saw, and looked again. Sure enough, elegantly dressed ladies were eating spoonful after spoonful of ice cream, and as I looked around, so was everyone else! "What's going on here? Is this really heaven? Verdi and ice cream?"

Apparently, it is quite common to eat ice cream at intermissions and is somewhat of a tradition that Ryan has experienced at other theatrical events throughout England. How brilliant!! I couldn't be more surprised and delighted! I love the mid-theater-performance-ice-cream-eating British!

It was an evening full of wonder and magic. But perhaps nothing was quite so dreamlike and surreal as eating ice cream straight out of the carton in my fanciest clothes at the Royal Albert Hall.

Nag's Head and Food Choice

There's something about standing among mountains of beautiful fresh fruit and vegetables at markets and produce stands that make me feel at home--as if I'm surrounded by family and friends. With Ryan away in Exeter for a couple days this weekend, I was feeling a little lonely this morning, and knew just the trick to lift my spirits: a trip to Nag's Head! There is a plethora of fresh produce markets in London, especially on the weekend, but as it was drizzling on and off and already 3pm, I decided to head to Nag's Head, our neighborhood hodge podge of stores and market stalls, many of which are Greek or Cypriot (from Cyprus). The stalls are hit or miss in their quality, but the prices are low and there's not a tourist in sight. My favorite produce shop, Michael's Fruiterers (at least that's what the English sign says), had an especially beautiful display today, probably due in part to the recent rain which turned the potatoes into a vibrantly warm fall-orange and the leafy greens into a tropical-green. The chard looked especially perky and voluptuous, so I grabbed two bunches. A lady next to me asked, "how do you cook that?" I described different methods of pan frying, steaming, or cooking it in a soup. She admired the color but ultimately decided to go with the pointy shaped English spinach.

I wandered through the fruits and stopped when I saw them: deep purple figs nearly the size of a tennis ball! They were huge! I cautiously extended two fingers and gently squeezed their sides, as if about to disturb a sleeping baby: perfectly ripe! With great deliberation and consideration I chose four that I deemed perfect and gingerly placed them in a paper sack. I moseyed by the olives and savoy cabbages--the colors, textures, and smells sedating me further and further into a peaceful happiness. At the check out counter, the usually talkative young woman commented, "someone's being healthy" as she bagged my bunches of chard. "Yes, and they're delicious!" I replied. She made a face of disgust and said, "yeah, I'm so hungry right now and all I can think about is which take-away (fast food) do I want." I laughed and noticed the moist dates sitting on the counter. "Should have bought some of those," I thought to myself.

As I walked back home, I thought about what the Greek produce lady had said and it reminded me of something we discussed in one of my classes this week. Our readings focused on the history of food safety and regulation and the implications for the safety of food (and the health of consumers) in an increasingly commercial food industry. Whose responsibility is it that consumers eat safe and healthy foods? Is it the farmer, the processor, the vendor, the government, or the consumer? Many of the readings highlighted that this responsibility has historically been placed on the consumer who is often uninformed about the source or processes of their food.

This then made me think, what influences my food choices? So much of it is tied into the availability of food, the information made available about the food, social perception (and advertisement) of the food, and the money and time I have available. But there's something more than that. What I perceive as easy, convenient, safe to eat, or tasty is very much culturally determined by my upbringing and surroundings. I wasn't buying the chard because I thought, "I'm going to be healthy." I bought the chard because I wanted to make one of the dishes that my mom always makes. I wanted to feel closer to home. The figs, on the other hand, were spontaneous, an indulgence in the aesthetics of the fruit and my conception of the figs as a kind of luxury. Some people dislike figs, but my taste buds say 'yummy!' Especially when paired with some equally decadent blue cheese....ooo!

So why did I buy the chard, the one lady bought spinach, and the produce lady fantasized about McDonald's? I don't know. What I do know is that it is important to understand our food decisions as complicated, layered processes that in turn have a profound impact on the shape of the food industry as well as our individual well being, happiness, and health.

Before all this thinking makes me too skeptical of everything I eat, I'm going to go enjoy some figs!

For some informative reading, check out:

Safe Food: Bacteria, Biotechnology, and Bioterrorism, Marion Nestle, 2003

Spoiled: The Dangerous Truth About a Food Chain Gone Haywire, Nicols Fox, 1998

Food Regulation and Trade: Toward a Safe and Open Global Food System, Tim Josling et al, 2004

Trust in Food: A Comparative and Institutional Analysis, Unni Kjaernes, Mark Harvey, and Alan Warde, 2006

Why are my Wellies in the Wheelie Bin?!

Ok. So, this isn't food related, but I feel the need to share a few of my observations and amusements with British English language.

We all love the British accent. It sounds polite and sophisticated, intelligent and erudite. But just like there are many different accents across America, there are many different British accents, in fact, probably even more than there are in the U.S.

This link to the British Library's sound archives allows you to listen to over 70 regional dialects of England! http://www.bl.uk/learning/langlit/sounds/index.html

Having been in London for about seven weeks now, I've been able to hear some slang and have been wonderfully delighted to realize that British slang is charmingly quaint! British slang loves the letter y! And why not? I agree it is an under-used and under-appreciated letter, straddling the worlds of consonants and vowels, but never before could I have thought it could be attached to so many words! Here are a few of the countless examples. I hope they make you equally giddy!

Baccy: tobacco

Barmy: crazy

Bendy Bus: articulated bus or accordion bus

Budgie: short for budgerigar (Australian parakeet)

Brolly: umbrella

Butty: chip sandwich

Juicy bits: pulp in orange juice

Manky: dirty, gross (but even more specific: bath towels in an English winter turn manky)

Nappy: diaper

Old Blighty: England

Parky: cold

Pinny: apron

Posty: mailman

Rumpy Pumpy: hanky panky

Sarny: sandwich

Shreddies: Chex cereal

Smarmy: smug and pretentious

Snarky: sharply derisive (supposedly North American, but I hear it here all the time)

Snog: to kiss (not a -y ending but one of my favorites!)

Squidgy: soft or mushy

Squiffy: tipsy/drunk

Techy: touchy

Telly: television

Tickety-boo: things are going well!

Toasties: toasted sandwiches

Trolley: cart, ie: shopping cart or luggage cart

Wellies: galoshes (short for Wellington Boots)

Wheelie Bin: trash can with wheels

Wonky: unstable, asymmetrical; strange

Rain, outings...and Bread Pudding

This past week has been cold...really cold! And rainy, very rainy, but only sporadically. As a southern Californian, London weather seems to me to be hyperactive. It can't decide what it wants to be, it's always changing its mind. And it is never happy with being what it is for very long. Yesterday, Ryan and I were out on a walk to the beautiful area of Stoke Newington to visit their farmer's market and the overgrown Victorian wonderland of Abney Park Cemetery (pictured right) when the cloudy sky opened up and spewed down violent rain and hail! We took shelter in a nearby doorway and two minutes later, the rain evaporated, the hail dissolved, and the sun came out with blue skies and puffy romantic clouds!!

London Lesson #7: The weather in London is neither predictable nor steadfast.

*Please note the paradox of this lesson: as a southern Californian, the slightest weather variations within a single day is a novel and exciting idea to me. I'm sure no one from New York, Chicago, or Switzerland would ever call London weather unpredictable or exciting.*

One advantage of such fickle weather--never long periods of either rain or sunshine--is that it encourages spontaneity and a balance of activity. This morning the sky was a clear, turquoise blue; Ryan and I looked at each other and knew an outdoor adventure was about to be born: "let's go to the Bloomsbury Festival!" Every October the Bloomsbury Festival comes to the parks and museums in Bloomsbury, enlivening the area with music, food, crafts, and art installations. We toured Dickens' house for free, drank mulled wine, listened to world music, perused art stalls, pinned paper doves to an arbor, watched improvising dancing troops, and explored weird and fun art installations in various squares.

Here I am in an art installation by some architecture students: a wooden chair swing in a tree in Brunswick Square (notice the swinging couch behind me!). The Festival was quirky, lively, creative, and fun! Most importantly, we had some amazing Creole Gumbo with corn fritters! Mmm! And just as we were starting to get too cold, the sky quietly opened and gently rained a beautiful shower, backlit by the setting sun. The rain was falling so softly it looked like snowflakes! We knew it was time to go home. At home we revived ourselves with tea and chunks of bread pudding and got some serious studying done.

London Lesson #8: Maximize sunny spells with explorations into the quirky offerings of London and keep enough bread pudding on hand to get you through the cloudy study hours spent inside.

Here's a typical English Bread Pudding recipe: dense, rich, filled with dried fruit, and delicious!

Bread Pudding

8 oz stale wheat or white bread

10 fl oz of milk

2 oz (4 Tbsp.)butter, melted

3 oz brown sugar

1 egg

2 tsp mixed spice (mixture of cinnamon, nutmeg, ginger, and cloves)

zest of one lemon

8 oz mixed dried fruit (raisins, currants, sultanas, candied dried fruit, cranberries, whatever is in the cupboard! I think dates would be delicious in here, but I didn't have any, will try next time!)

Break up stale bread into 1 inch pieces and let soak in milk for 30 minutes. (I mushed the milk and bread together with my hands, as the bread was not fully immersed in milk. I also added a bit more milk to make sure the bread was thoroughly coated.) After 30 minutes, vigorously mix the soaked bread with a fork to ensure there are no more lumps. (It will look like a gross gruel.) Add the brown sugar, egg, melted butter, spices, and lemon zest and mix with the fork until thoroughly combined. Add the dried fruit and stir to combine. Spread the batter into a buttered 6x8 pan or loaf pan. Bake at 350F for about 30 minutes or until bread pudding is firm and tester comes out clean. If you use a smaller pan (which makes a taller pudding), you may need to bake longer, up to one hour. Enjoy hot with ice cream! Also hearty enough to eat for breakfast! Yum!

Note: For that special occasion, soak the dried fruit in brandy for 30 minutes prior to adding to batter. Mmm!

Hampstead and Louis Patisserie

I woke up Sunday morning at 7:30am. Seven thirty AM. On Sunday. The day of rest. (For those who may not know, I love to sleep. I even like to think I'm pretty good at it. As co-founder of the Recreational Sleeper's Club I pride myself on my over-indulgence in sleep. Give me 60 seconds in a motionless position, slightly reclined and I will be asleep. I could easily sleep 12 hours a day every day for the rest of my life. So you can probably imagine how much I love Sundays, the designated day of rest). Back to the story...

7:30am Sunday. Ryan and I bundled up in sweatshirts and scarves, gulped down a quick cup of tea, and stepped out into the biting 45F early morning London air. With icy cheeks and growling stomachs, we walked two miles across North London, passing greengrocers setting up their stands, early dog walkers and cheery, well-dressed church goers. We were headed for Hampstead, a charming upper-upper-class village nestled next to Hampstead Heath with a rich history of literary residents (John Keats, Karl Marx, D.H. Lawrence, George Orwell, Sigmund Freud, Robert Louis Stevenson, HG Wells, Agatha Christie, Ian Flemming). Most early risers in Hampstead are probably on their way to church or are out to hear the early morning birds on the Heath, maybe catch a glimpse of a celebrity or MP out for a morning jog, or to grab a cup of coffee from the designer Italian coffee house on the corner before taking a Sunday drive in their Maserati. But not Ryan and I. No. We were awake in the early Sunday hours in the posh village of Hampstead for one thing...Hungarian pastries. But not just any Hungarian pastries. Louis Patisserie.

Since our arrival in London, I have read online and in multiple books about Louis Patisserie, considered by many to be the best pastry shop in all of London. Last week I picked up a book, Still Open, that highlights the various shops and cafes around London representing a bygone era of traditional, small, heritage shops that are, still open. And it featured Louis Patisserie! One of the younger shops in the book, Louis Patisserie was founded in 1963 by Mr. and Mrs. Louis, immigrants from Hungary. The classy decor, fine quality service, attention to detail, and decadent, flawless pastries, have been it's hallmarks for 47 years.

As we approached the green awning on Heath Street, my grumpy, frozen morning scowl warmed into giddy excitement. I slowed my pace and quietly tiptoed to the storefront in anticipation. My crunchy eyes opened wide with wonder as I looked in delight at the window full of sugary delicacies: row after row of architectural sugar artwork in countless colors and shapes, painstakingly constructed and decorated with loving precision and skill. I recognized a few things, like slices of Dobos torte, dressed up eclairs, and rectangles of tiramisu cake. But there were many things I had never seen before: cakes covered with curls of chestnut puree, chocolate and marzipan domino cakes, intricate towers of glossy fruit, chocolate dipped crescent cakes shimmering in gold, and everything seemed to be covered with marzipan! What were all of these beautiful creations? And how was I going to eat all of them?

As we stepped inside, it was if we were stepping through time and space into an elite Old World coffee and tea house. Button-backed tan leather booths and mahogany panels lined the sides of the narrow Patisserie with glass cut tables and beautiful antique short, wooden chairs. Colorful exotic carpet covered the floor and bowls brimming with white and brown sugar cubes were the centerpiece of each table. The place was empty (I guess it's a little early for sugar highs for the folks of Hampstead) and we chose a seat in the middle of the room.

A young beautiful Hungarian girl with a white apron elegantly asked what we would like to drink and brought a tray squished full of an assortment of their pastries to choose from. Ryan's cappaccino came in a

dainty teacup with a mountain of foam two inches about the rim! My breakfast tea came as full silver tea service, with enough hot water for about five cups of tea (and stayed amazingly hot the whole time)! We chose a chocolate Boliem cake and a domed cake topped with slitted marzipan and dipped in chocolate! We slowly sliced the tiny silver forks into the cakes and peered inside: layers and layers of cake and buttercream. We chewed slowly, savoring each bite: not overly sweet, rich in flavor, the perfect crumb, and secretly hidden bits of walnuts! What heaven! I couldn't believe how deceptively light and airy the multi-layered, buttercream-filled, chocolate and marzipan cakes really were!

It's true! I even thought, "is this going to be enough? Will we need to order a third piece?" But about halfway through, my cake suddenly seem to grow in size and I said, "these tiny cakes are huge!" I was beginning to think that I would be unable to finish the rich, decadent, marzipan cake. But with a little more diluting of my stomach with more cups of tea, I was able to finish off both pieces of cake! Phew!

We sat for a whole hour watching people come and go, the regular old ladies with their coffee and paper, the European couple with a croissant wanting decaf coffee without luck, the kids with their dad getting domino cake to take home and arguing about eating it in the car. And then us, the grungy young couple with traces of sleep dirt in the corners of their eyes, pouring over each bite of cake, completely numb with satisfaction. I'll brave the cold London mornings any day, even Sunday, for slices of heaven this delicious!

Lardy, lardy!

I've known for a while now that there was a part of English baking that I'd have to address sooner or later--a four letter word I'd been dreading...LARD. In California, and in my household growing up, lard was a dirty word. California restaurants prided themselves on advertising their premises as lard-free and it was usually lumped into the same category as MSG--once delicious, now hazardous to your health and disdained.

But not in England! The English are not so prejudiced when it comes to fat. They embrace all kinds of fat for all kinds of purposes (using suet-beef fat- for making pie crusts and puddings) and even consider it a delicacy (think crackling-the crunchy fat on a pork roast). So it's no stretch of the imagination that lard is nationally loved. And like most things British, lard, and fat in general, is loved with aplomb! 'Lardy cakes' line the shelves in supermarkets, dairy products are labeled 'full fat' and no sandwich is complete without a thick slather of butter on the bread (in place of mayonnaise), just as toast is buttered and jammed, not one or the other. Growing up, we had a glass jar under the kitchen sink for the collection of leftover fat from cooking fatty meats like bacon. Once the jar was full, we would throw it out. Here, fat is just as religiously collected, but rather, is lovingly stored in the refrigerator and saved for future consumption (to sautee veggies, or no doubt improve something that was lacking in fat). And so it is that lard features in nearly a quarter of the recipes in my English baking book.

While studying at Le Cordon Bleu, I discovered the divinity of butter (I grew up on margarine and didn't taste butter until college) and learned then that somethings are worth potentially shortening your lifespan for. But lard is not one of those things, or so I thought. Apparently lard has had a resurgence in its popularity among foodies as an alternative to partially hydrogenated oils (lard has zero trans fat-it's au natural from the pig!). In early 2006, Europe experienced a "lard crisis" as demand for lard in England and Poland could not be met by heritage hog breeders who specialize in artisan lard. Passing the lardy cakes in the market and the tower of white bricks of lard in the butter aisle, the anthropologist and foodie in me paused. I grabbed two bricks of lard, 33p each, and felt my arteries constrict a little.

Michael Smith's Afternoon Tea cookbook says, "everyone has his or her favourite recipe for a version of this type of biscuit" called melting moments. A simple recipe and easy to make, he calls for the addition of a walnut or candied cherry on top. That seemed pretty dull to me so instead I ended up turning some of them into French style jam thumprints, filling a depression in the middle of the cookie with a bit of jam. I chewed the finish product slowly...not as flavorful as butter but much more flaky and crumbly...and after I had three more, I decided they were surprisingly delicious, satisfying a kind of nostalgia. As Michael Smith says, "they're certainly not slimming, not so much because of their calorific count but because they are more-ish and we don't stop at one." Now I understand two things: the Brits love of lard and the word more-ish, a good British word. I wanted to eat more cookies. Let's just blame it on the weather.

Melting Moments

5 oz lard

3 oz unsalted butter

6 oz sugar

1 egg, beaten

12 oz flour

Rub the two fats into the flour until sand-like in texture. Stir in the sugar and use a fork to mix in the egg. Using your hands, bring the mixture together until a soft dough forms. Roll one inch balls and place on a parchment lined baking sheet. Flatten balls with your fingers and top with a walnut or use your thumb to make a depression in the cookie and fill with unseeded raspberry jam. Bake 15 minutes at 375F or until kissed with color. Cool completely before storing in airtight containers.

For more revealing information about lard, check out:

http://www.guardian.co.uk/uk/2004/nov/16/foodanddrink

http://query.nytimes.com/gst/fullpage.html?sec=health&res=9C06E3DC1E3CF932A25753C1A9669C8B63

http://query.nytimes.com/gst/fullpage.html?sec=health&res=9C06E3DC1E3CF932A25753C1A9669C8B63

How to make your own lard: http://www.thenewhomemaker.com/makeyourownlard