Posts filed under 'Food writing'
Here’s a thing: last weekend we had a food-related party, swapping jams, chutneys and so on. Yesterday I caught up with some newspapers from a few weeks ago, and found an article relating to people living in the country, with ‘any social occasion’ (including meeting at the school gates) resulting in frenzied jam swapping.
The part of the paper this was in has two regular columns - one is a country perspective (written from someone who seems to have started living in the country more recently, and at times is rather bemused by it), another a very townie perspective (particularly that week’s one, where life anywhere other than in London is treated with a certain suspicion).
Nothing new, eh, but given that most of us swapping jams etc live in or near cities, I wondered if that makes us city bumpkins? Perhaps there’s a lot of us in that situation - we may have grown up in smaller places, have come to the city to study or work. Several years on, here we still are, enjoying a lot of the benefits of the larger place but hankering after some of the aspects of smaller places, such as being a bit closer to nature.
Maybe instead those of us who got together are foodies, or environmentalists, or both, responding to this particular economic phase: looking at the recession, natural resources reducing and so on, and having a spot of home production to go with it. Or it may be a stage in life, if trying to feed growing families. (Maybe we can get a group grant from Good Housekeeping, or the Guardian, if we feel particularly self-righteous about it…)
Maybe it’s part of (early?) middle age - enjoying the little things in life, simple pleasures like watching the colour of elderberries as they’re cooking away; doing a task that allows you to slow your brain down a bit. Maybe it’s the belated fun of the pick ‘n mix - swapping things means that I get to try other people’s food that maybe I wouldn’t have thought to make, or to sample something new amid the other familiar items.
For my part, it’s also part of a growing desire to be creative - to make things, have fun doing so, and share a bit of that with others, particularly if they enjoy that too. Yes, I’m doing it in part to avoid too much Christmas present shopping later, but also because I like the process of making things - particularly food-related things.
All of the above. But what matters this weekend is that the apple chutney I made in September is now tasing very good with cheese…
October 11th, 2009
The sun has been shining on Edinburgh, shining with all its might, even at the weekend, apologies to Lewis Carroll notwithstanding. Last Saturday, we managed an Outing which I am now thinking of as a bramble ramble. The fact that I can also now write about it may make it a (short) ramble about brambles, so the title stays.
The cycle path network is where trains used to run in the past through the north of Edinburgh. Our possible commuting loss is our free time gain, and one of the reasons I like living where we do - easy to get about without always travelling on main roads.
As well as the brambles, we saw quite a lot of (mostly now empty) raspberry canes too, which led me to think that we need an earlier sortie down there next year. We were also able to get some rosehips, some elderberries, and some other berries which I enthusiastically hoped were sloes but turned out not to be when I got them home and checked.
There’s clearly a good level of traffic up and down the cycle paths - some cycles, plenty of people out on foot too. What interested me was the range of responses that our brambling brought out in passersby.
Most positive: two sisters plus dad: “Blackberries! Excellent!” said the younger sister, and they stopped to pick and eat near us. The elder sister lost no opportunity to tell the younger one what not to do; the younger one lost no opportunity to eat brambles and ignore her sister.
Next response: a dad and a son going by. They both seemed to know what we were doing, and the dad then proceeded to talk to the boy about large bramble roots as they then walked on. He had a point - some of the runners coming out from the plants were particularly impressive (or aggressive, depending on your interpretation) this year.
Somewhat worrying response: family and friends party on foot, youngest girl in full princess dress regalia, but still at least four years old, I think. As they passed, she was heard to ask “What are they doing?” I had to hope that someone would tell her, but they didn’t while we were in earshot.
What saddened me about the last response was that such a simple and easy activity was unknown to the girl, and that she and her family were missing out, not just on treats but free treats, and a family activity too. When you can get free and exciting sauces for icecream from cooking brambles, as well as the brambles themselves, what price princess dresses?
September 15th, 2009
The nights are drawing in, and so on. Myself, I think the days are drawing in, and the nights are sneaking up behind and getting in on the act. However you view it, I thought it was starting to get sufficiently seasonal to write this post.
Stew vs. mash is not my evening meal quandry (particularly as Dan is kindly off cooking something completely different), but more of a musing on terms used to indicate when a cup or pot of tea is ready. Brew, draw, etc, all fine - but how likely is it linguistically to get two terms that get used for other food activities AND actually fit with each other, in terms of their other meaning?
Purists will tell me that stew is the point when the tea has gone beyond ready, but it just interested me to see this little pattern arising, in relation to that beloved drink of the UK. I was going to write national drink, but a) coffee may have overtaken it and b) the news is now in the papers that Diageo will not keep jobs in Kilmarnock (for Johnny Walker whisky), so those viewing whisky as the national drink have enough to worry about without a rival claim from tea today.
Meanwhile, the Scotsman did one of its longer pieces on a forthcoming book about an enterprising Scot who did lots of exploring (and/or smuggling, according to your viewpoint) of plants in China, ultimately leading to the identification of a wide range of tea plants. The article tried to hang it on the idea of the man being responsible for tea coming to the UK - perhaps not, but another of those popular science stories that turn out to be fairly amazing.
Dan is reading “Connections” - not an English text book (ah, all those travel-related titles beloved of ELT editors) but the book accompanying the James Burke TV series of many moons ago. The gist of it is that one invention or discovery, big or small, may lead on to many others, and the cumulative effect may be far more than anyone would have thought at the time of the original discovery.
I don’t know quite what you would trace as a line of inventions coming from tea, but I do know that I would ‘invent’ far fewer documents or other items of hopefully (useful) purpose without a certain reliance on tea in the afternoons. Maybe that’s enough connection. From stew to mash, and hence to gravy (train)?
September 10th, 2009
I thought I’d write a food related post, just to flex the blogging muscles a little further. What I really meant to write about was starting making things again: jam, pickles, that sort of stuff. But that title just slipped in there…so I’d better try to incorporate it.
Seeing some friends recently, one spoke of the Economy Gastronomy series and book: encouraging us to get more meals out of our ingredients, as it were. Others have written on this before, under ‘100 ways with mince’ and other such inspiring terms (see, I knew I could make the connection sooner or later). But it’s quite fun not just to use free ingredients for cooking (last year’s stock of brambles in the freezer, for example), but to look at how to use what I’ve got in already, in different ways.
I don’t really want extra uses for mince, I suppose. But turning a rice and veg set of leftovers into little savoury burgers - that might be different. Or making things that I might otherwise have bought, such as flavoured oils. (I’d better not mention too many, or there will be no surprises left for my family at Christmas.)
I know it probably sounds too ‘knit your own yoghurt’ for some, but I have decided to make food related presents for family this year. Partly I think I’ve used up most of my good present ideas for them already; for some, they are not really looking for Things at this point, but Useful Presents of a food nature might just slip in under the wire.
What’s more, it’s been fun. Making maybe one thing a weekend, I’m trying some new things, or making extra of others that I already like, and know others like too. I’m not yet doing the bumper batch of Lebkuchen - I’ll wait until nearer Christmas for that - but this way, if something doesn’t work out, I’ve got time in hand to try something else.
So, hopefully if the rain lets up a bit, might be a chance to try picking this year’s crop of brambles, and putting them to work…
September 8th, 2009
However many shopping days to go, and all that. The weekend papers fill up with more supplements of presents to buy that promise to help you control your kitchen, your bathroom, cats that visit your garden. Meanwhile, Lakeland continues to attempt to take over the universe…or at least, tries to add to the prospect of taming chaos, all with a nice biscuit to hand.
I have a slightly love-hate relationship with Lakeland (formerly Lakeland Plastics). I suspect quite a lot of women do. One of the Times columnists who writes in the T2 supplement during the week confessed her excitement, earlier in the year, at the latest catalogue arriving - and how many of her friends she would then have Lakeland discussions with. Another friend on Facebook seems to have a fairly similar reaction.
What is it about Lakeland? They are clearly doing something right, yet a bit different, with ever more stores opening up, yet still none in central London, for example. I should be properly grateful that Edinburgh is considered nice enough to have a store - along with other gentle (or is that genteel?) destinations like Bath, Canterbury and York. I’m told that the customer service over the phone is second to none, though the ladies who police the Edinburgh store tend to be slightly on the officious side, on the whole.
And this, it seems, is how Lakeland divides - as well as conquers. As does the list of products. Because for every item that seems over fussy and controlling, or rather too twee, there are some tremendous ones that find you circling items, or even, bending down the page too, so that the male of the household might find them and respond appropriately.
No to tea bag squeezers. To washing up gloves with very long sleeves. To water carafes with matching glasses painted with spring flowers. But yes to yoghurt makers, silicone baking tins, to sets of stacking bowls that get constant use. And they are very good at adding new products, so you have to look at the next catalogue…hmmm.
The bit that confuses me more is where kitchen items, cleaning items, are not enough - Lakeland must also be the first thought when you want to buy craft materials, or, now, toiletries, and other items that Boots would probably prefer to monopolise. I’m not sure what their main age range demographic is for customers, but clearly, they are very sure that their customers want to be clean, tidy, good at thoughtful presents, and at times, creative too.
What interests me is that you’re not being sold just one lifestyle, as you are with a lot of other brands or stores. But I do think that, ultimately, Lakeland conspires to sell you products to make you feel that some things are working properly in a few key parts of life - perhaps a very female wish, and part of the reason for their success.
It’s not just men that want new gadgets. It’s just that they don’t seem to need as many ‘inverted commas’ statements in the advertising copy to encourage them to do so.
December 8th, 2008
It’s a gardening term, isn’t it? You dig a trench, and move the soil back into it. In this case, with Christmas around the virtual furrow, it’s time to back fill some more stories onto the blog, so that there’s something there for people to read when you eventually send them their Yuletide email.
Last year, after getting the laptop, I spent quite a chunk of time filling in the blanks of previous months’ activities, for that very purpose. This time, I’m filling in the Spring-Summer Hiatus (ooh, there’s some sun out there…somewhere…I’ll not turn the computer on), which isn’t so daunting. You never know, I might even get Dan to remind me how to add pictures again.
One of the features of this year is not so much back fill as tum fill. We have started having weekend breakfast options, things to help you feel like you are actually resting, and that take longer to make and eat than you might make time for on a week day. It feels very peaceful, anyway, building family traditions, that kind of thing.
I should probably add that various of the options have come out of Nigella Express. But I would add that for some reason, reading about breakfast or brunch options in cookbooks is particularly restful. One of my early memories of cookbooks for pleasure was managing to borrow an American one from somewhere, where it devoted large sections to the value of breakfast or brunch as a way to do relaxed entertaining. It even had quotes about food items for breakfast, which your then very literary writer was particularly pleased about.
Summer has brought in the partially frozen banana smoothie - an alternative to filling my freezer with bananas that have gone beyond eating point, without as much effort ask making a banana cake. Now we’re back to central heating days, the main options are porridge or pancakes - Scotch pancakes, drop scones, you know the ones.
The porridge making started on our Easter holiday, staying in a cottage that had not been visited for a few months. We needed to be warm AND we needed options for not consuming milk too quickly, being on an island. Porridge fitted the bill very nicely, particularly with the discovery of adding brown sugar to the top. Crunch vs smoothness. Even for a child brought up to believe that syrup was the real way ahead with porridge, this was a definite discovery.
We have also happily discovered that two people can indeed eat their way through a whole batch of pancakes for brunch, although if they have a guest staying, they will be polite enough to share. We’ve even invested in a large silicon pancake flipper, when I realised the spatula I’d been using was threatening to become another flavour on the pancake.
Our particular tip is slightly acidic jams to offset the thicker pancake - apricot was particularly good, blackberry also worth considering. Marmalade can be good, but not as good. At least with a batch, you have plenty of opportunity to experiment on which toppings work.
So, send in your brunch options, and we’ll even fork through a few, if they’re good. Avoid overly eggy suggestions, or pass them straight to Dan, who has a better stomach for eggs than me.
But more importantly, start a few food traditions of your own at the weekend, if you haven’t already. Particularly ones that cause you to linger, and admire the day outside, the person sitting next to you, or simply the notion of slower food as a regular household blessing.
November 24th, 2008
Social ill is a bit harsh. But it’s interesting going out for a meal in another country - particularly a European country, given the ongoing belief in the UK that we still eat worse than our European counterparts - and think you could have done better at home.
Targets on the list? France is rather good at pre-dressed salad, as was Germany, back in the spring, and both were overly salty. Top marks back to Italy, where you can generally dress your own salad at the table, although there’s still more of a tendency to add salt.
I still find salting a salad vegetable a bit strange, particularly when you could choose a tangier lettuce if you wanted more of a taste hit, but it still sits easier with me than adding cream to lettuce (my former flatmate in Poland. It was just cream. I like a cream-y sauce on a salad from time to time, but not quite in this form).
Morning coffee in Italian hotels can be a bit of a disappointment - and this in a country which is really rather rated for its coffee. Best trick is probably to forgo a hotel breakfast and get a quick breakfast in a nearby bar - which clearly works very well for the commuting population too, in many places.
We’re used to ’serving suggestions’ on packaging, those kind of pictures that help you understand what to have on a plate with mayonnaise, for example. France goes a step further, and suggests on its packets that you should actively have chocolate at breakfast time.
I know that many people need no encouragement in this area, but normally chocolate gets brought out later in the day…once something’s gone wrong…or you’re flagging at work? Maybe we have completely the wrong attitude to chocolate - maybe our days would go much better if we had chocolate at breakfast time, and mustered the will to strike much earlier in the day.
I had an unexpected stop in a French hotel recently, and they offered the usual buffet breakfast option. What was interesting was the paper serving mats on the table - like you get in fast food places here - only in France, it told you what elements you should be having to start the day.
There were 4 of them, and as far as I remember, you should have some protein, some carbohydrate, some fruit and something to drink to rehydrate you. I’m sure chocolate was included in at least one of the categories as a serving suggestion…
Does this mean that the French are constantly thinking about how to balance their diets? Is the placemat for visiting foreigners who need to shape up in this area - but need to be able to read French to do so? Or is it a sign of a country also worried about its children going the way of the fast food chains?
Final food note: restaurants in Germany put rice in pots of table salt - I think this is to absorb any liquid which might get in, and cause the salt to dissolve, or clump, or something of that kind. It makes lots of practical sense - but it doesn’t look quite as nice to look at.
Aesthetics eh? You get them where you can.
November 23rd, 2008
I’ve come to realise that the way to get people’s attention online (or at least on Facebook) is to write about food. Mention your latest eating experience - or even, your anticipation of that - and you get lots of virtual joining in.
Is it the dark days of recession affecting us? We know that in times of economic difficulty, food sales still do well, if not better, as a cheering up device. Is it the onset of winter, hopeful that if we anticipate food, we will feel warmer, or at least better about the nights drawing in?
Maybe it’s more of the thirties malaise. We start to realise that we may not climb the corporate ladder the way we might have thought (most corporate ladders looking pretty rickety, at this point in time); we will not now wow the world with our looks or various other talents if we haven’t done so already. (I’m still holding out for a late-onset writing career - that area does seem to reward late bloomers.)
What’s left? Family, friends, TV…and of course food, which we can always anticipate, because of our need to refuel fairly often. (I’m not limiting life to these alone, honest. But they do all allow quite a lot of ‘me too!’, which is perhaps part of why online stuff is popular.)
So what foods are most likely to make you ‘write in’ in agreement? So far, risotto, peanut butter, classy macaroons and hot dogs, judging by recent comments on my Facebook wall and others.
It could be the start of a whole new ‘what’s your favourite food?’ discussion. I would also like to suggest a ‘guess how much I paid at the Co-op for…?’ game, which allows a spot of ethical consumerism to combine with (nearly) freegan activity, and some public endorsement of thrift…
I’m actually finding it hard to come down to a favourite food, but my inner five year old is still convinced that sausages, baked beans and chips are a good place to start. How about you?
October 9th, 2008
Off to Peebles last weekend to see my parents - and go to part of Peebles’ second ever autumn food fair. Not quite the highlight of the social calendar that the spring book fair is, but a good enough excuse to go and support a local event.
What I hadn’t quite bargained on was that there would be quite so much emphasis on meat. Fair enough in some ways, given that there’s farms around, proper butchers and the like. But if you were a veggie and/or had problems seeing meat, you would probably have had to avert your eyes for about a third of the stands…
Other friends have done the farm shop thing, and shared out half animals, that kind of thing. I must admit I thought it would hard to fit e.g. half a lamb in a freezer - and which end would you get? But then we saw what that looked like, which was certainly a lot of meat. We’re even thinking about splitting a half lamb order with my parents to make it a bit more affordable (at least, spending money on meat rather than a second freezer). Except I have to eat some more brambles first. Or maybe make rather a lot of risotto to clear out some stock. Etc.
It’s all nice and green and Guardian reading of me to want to get local produce - which I do. And help farms in Scotland keep going - which I do. But then I see the prices of the food and baulk a bit. Even the veg boxes are more than I’m prepared to spend, it seems, which is a shame for one who really likes fruit and veg.
So, as ever, we bought little things - though this does allow me to plug the Chocolate Tree, based (I think) in Gifford, East Lothian. Not only do they do the dark chocolate with interesting flavours thang, they also do a proper Nutella alternative. They even boast that you’ll never go back to Nutella after you’ve tried it. Now the difficulty is whether to open the jar - and fulfil their promise - or inflict that on someone else by passing it on as a present…Food for thought, one way or another, if not as much food for the plate.
October 2nd, 2008
Sometimes it seems I’m at my happiest when heading from A to B, with space to think up titles for blog posts, or the like. After much deliberation for this one, I settled on black gold.
Would it be a hard-hitting commentary on oil over-dependence? Not really. An oblique Asterix book reference? Closer territory, though as I recall, that was about oil too. What is far more important to the world economy at the moment, is free stuff. And the black gold of the article is all about the joy of brambling.
Had a half day off, after my time on the exhibition stand, and by five o’clock or so on Friday, decided that a good use of time would be to head off to the cycle path, not far from our flat, and pick some brambles. Usually we’re off doing this earlier in September, but one way or another (ie rain), bramble plans had been delayed.
Life along the cycle path is quite pleasant. Cyclists were heading home from work, or on early weekend excursions. One chap stopped me to ask where my rucksack came from - this turned out to be a lament on the fact that he couldn’t replace his current one with a similar kind, and hoped that mine (which looked like his) might be a new one. There were a few dogs to say hello to, but mainly there was the fun of filling tubs with brambles.
When I was little, brambles tended to get used up in crumbles. Any juice left over from stewing the fruit would be kept as a sauce to pour over ice cream - this was known as ‘blood’. Very satisfying when you’re 8, and the attraction of it still remains. Equally, I had a birthday book, and on the page opposite the start of September (and my granny’s birthday) was a picture of the Flopsy Bunnies out picking brambles. (I think Beatrix Potter called them blackberries, but obviously you can’t be good at everything.) Being a bit of an afficionado of autumn, the conjuncture of all these things on adjoining pages seemed to suggest the essential importance of brambles.
I’m sure that if I kept brambling enough, I would be able to come up with some kind of complicated metaphor for what it teaches you about life, given the twin perils of nettles and bramble thorns that you have to overcome. It is true that the fattest brambles seem to grow behind nettles. Equally, turning slightly around from where you’ve been picking shows further drifts of fruit that you didn’t spot first time.
Like many things in life, the ultimate bramble patch is the one just further along the path from where you are…where all fruit will be large, juicy and easy to pick without getting skewered by the nettles again. But perhaps another, deeper appeal of all this is filling one’s storehouse with good things - and only for the cost of looking, and a few stings. Some entertainment comes without batteries, and some food is not vacuum packed within an inch of its life.
For both these things, and for switching off most of your brain for an hour or so, three cheers. Next stop, elderberries - perhaps in a couple of weeks or so.
September 28th, 2008
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