This being my second posting on the topic, I feel ought to explain my fascination with food. I realize that I am in no way unique in my love, but nonetheless 'there is no love sincerer than the love of food' {George Bernard Shaw}. I think the unifying effect of food is fantastic- it is where traditions are made and cultures are experienced. That said, it should come as no surprise that the creation and consumption of tasty vittles is an international obsession in which I heartily partake. In fact, there was a time where I considered dedicating my entire life {in addition to many Pinterest boards and bookshelves} to learning how to sauté, flambé, and generally cuisiner {using the correct pronunciation, this continues the rhyming scheme and means 'to cook'}. No longer my sole focus, I would still say that for me, to eat is to live. This brings me round to my main point, in my adventures abroad, eating has become one of my primary hobbies. Especially eating regionally unique foods. I will and have walked miles to try something interesting. Happily, this week required no such effort, as British specialties were practically given to me on a silver platter! That is to say, the refectory {cafeteria} chose to celebrate 'British Food Fortnight,' a glorified meat-and-potatoes week, or so I thought. Yes, they served three variations of Shepherds pie, but, no, it was not all bland and uninteresting. Exhibit A: Toad-in-the-hole. A piece of meat, often sausage, in a crust of yorkshire pudding. Evidently, it surfaced twice a year on the menu of an upper-crust dining society, the Thursday's Club call'd the Royal Philosophers, before falling from grace. Now a working man's dish, it is affectionately known as 'toad-in-the-hole,' the hole being the stomach and the toad being something to fill it. And filling it was, though the refectory's version was vegetarian, it was still a lunch to ruin my dinner. A little thyme, simple batter {the pudding bit}, and roasty veg, lovely! Exhibit B: the Custard Tart. The English custard tart has long been a local favorite, gracing the tables of countless Royal feasts, but according to the internet, it pales in comparison to its cousin, the Portuguese custard tart. Thus, this lightly nutmeged tart has gained a reputation more for its political statements than its popularity. I must admit, I think I may have enjoyed today's tart as much on someone's face as in my mouth. Not that it wasn't delicious, just not enough to warrant a cult following like the 'pie-to-the-face' practice. Finding its way into avant-garde theatre, conferences, newsrooms, and comedies, it is much beloved in British society, if not for reasons completely apart from its culinary value. Really, this is one lovely thing about British food, they don't take it too seriously. Here, there is space for play and gourmet. More to follow.
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| Hitting the Streets. |
The other day, I took a commemorative city walk to celebrate the one-month anniversary of my landing in London. Yes, odd as it is to say, I have been here a month of Sundays, or so it seems. I remember my first walk through these streets, the awe and wonder at this ancient, green giant rising up ahead of me. Each street felt like its own town, I would get off the tube and walk to and fro as if I had been teleported to a parallel universe... Oxford Circus opened up a retail paradise, Piccadilly Circus revealed Soho, Victoria Station became the 'Kensington portal'. Only recently did this image of a fragmented city of neighborhoods give way to the cohesive, spirited, and utterly walkable city that is London. I feel I have become a student of the city rather than a real student. The groove of classes and papers still doesn't fit, only the groove of ambling streets and twisting river. At the same time, I have become acutely aware that whoever said "to be tired of London is to be tired of life" hit the nail on the head, metaphorically speaking, of course. The more I study the streets and their inhabitants, the more mysterious the city becomes. Though the neighborhoods now connect, woven together in a sort of fabric, they still hold thousands of untold 'London particulars.'
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| the photographer. |
My first month of Sundays at a close, yet the season of firsts certainly is not. For each of the firsts in I have had in my time here- there are a hundred more waiting in those endless avenues. Camera in hand, I venture once unto the breach.
Joi,
Michaelanne{gelo}
Pardon me, if I offend, but I was scared of Brown Sauce. To my inner foodie, the allure of what appeared to be preservative-riddled, bottled gravy has always escaped me. I saw it on the shelf at World Market in the States, in the cabinets of countless homes, I even watched Maggie Smith smuggle it on her trip to India in the Best Exotic Marigold Hotel, but nothing could make me the least bit curious. Then, to my shock and horror, I found 'tangy-fruity' HP sauce in someone's kitchen. All hell must have broken loose! Fruity, tangy gravy?! Please, Brits can't be that mad! So, it was then and there that I determined I must try this... this... whatever it is. Luckily, after days of agony, I finally gave the dreaded sauce a try and found that my mental image could not have been farther from the truth. To my delight, brown sauce is not gravy! Not even the least bit gravy-y! It's really more like a party of malt vinegar, ketchup, and worcestershire sauce with maybe a little BBQ sauce thrown in for good measure. Now, I am no convert {I tend to be extremely picky about my condiments} but all in all, it's not too shabby. I also realized, upon further research, that brown sauce isn't even foreign to the American palette, it has been hiding in countless American kitchens under the guise of A1 steak sauce. Evidently, A1 made it across the pond around 1895 and quickly became a steakhouse staple. Meanwhile, HP sauce {the most popular, if not the original brown sauce created in the 1870's}, became "The Official Sauce of Great Britain," the accompaniment to the famed full English Breakfast and favourite of royalty and common folk alike. Given Great Britain's culinary reputation, comes as no surprise that this tangy, complex, sauce is slathered on just about everything. So, while I have not completely bought in, I am starting to get this brown sauce and who knows maybe by the time I head back to the states I, too, will be a nostalgic brown sauce-lover!
Joi,
Michaelanne{gelo}
