Castles Of Cheese

Anybody who has made the trip from Chicago to Milwaukee probably knows Mars' Cheese Castle, an infamous tourist trap selling products of varying quality to folks desperate for a bit of Wisconsin's legendary cheese. I've been there more than once. But this last week, I made my own real cheese AND went to a bunch of real castles. Take that, Mars' Cheese Castle.

In a previous blog I mentioned that I found rennet readily available in the grocery here. Rennet is simply an enzyme that causes milk to go Little Miss Muffet-style -- it makes milk break down into curds (solids) and whey (liquid). Following the easy steps at this website right here, I made a batch of neufchatel cheese.

I'd made mozzarella before but this cheese was a bit more involved -- it took about two days as opposed to 20 minutes. Add some buttermilk and rennet to regular milk, let it sit for a day whilst it forms the curds and then hang the whole lot up for a day so that the whey can drain off the curds. Salt it, flavor it as you choose, and start eating. It's amazing that all of this is done outside of refrigeration -- I guess it's the bacteria and acid in the buttermilk that protect the milk from other spoilage.

To drain my whey, I needed a makeshift apparatus created from a bar stool, a large wooden spoon, and two cans of petit pois to get some extra height. Boo, the ever-curious frenchie, found the entire process fascination. She also discovered that the whey in the drain-catch bowl was delicious.

The finished product is a cross between cream cheese and cottage cheese but with a certain freshness to it that you don't find in stuff from the store. I divided the batch up and so far have made raw garlic-infused cheese, chive-enhanced cheese, cheese with smoked paprika, and harissa cheese. It's good plain, too, on toasted bread.

All in all, a success. I plan on bringing the rennet home at Christmas to make a fresh batch of cheese whilst home.

Cheers!




How can you govern a country which has 246 varieties of cheese?
Charles De Gaulle (1890 - 1970)

A Tale of Too Many Castles

Yep, missed another week of blogging. But it was all for purposes of blog research. The in-laws came to town and we managed to visit six castles, travel all over London, eat really well, and take lots of pictures. Gimme a day or so to get organized and the blog will be back on track!

Canned Hot

Another adventure in canned meat!

This time it's the All-American hot dog UK-style, now with "best ever quality." It's the "UK's favorite hot dog!"

These things were far superior to the meat found in the Fully Monty and Big BBQ disasters-in-a-can that I tried earlier. They were just a tiny bit soggy, but not bad. I tried them under the 'top grill' in the oven and one out of the nuclear oven, too. They were better off the grill.


My biggest complaint is that these things were tiny (see comparison to leftover Halloween candy bar, below.) It would take four to fill a good American hot dog bug -- I'm not even sure what is the point of a hot dog in this form factor -- I didn't see tiny little buns anywhere in the grocery.

Still, it was surely a passable lunch when smothered in quasi-Chicago style with ketchup, American yellow mustard, a bit of mayo, some chopped Dwarf Apache (Seebach!) peppers, and a nice slathering of the now famous Wisconsin's best squirty cheese. Nice.

On deck are a larger version of this same company's dog, a steak and kidney pie-in-a-can, and attempt from Heinz to use sexual imagery to sell baked beans.

Cheers!


“Some people wanted champagne and caviar when they should have had beer and hot dogs.” Dwight David Eisenhower (1890-1969)

Roll On Down The, Uh, Information Superhighway

Buddy Bill got a haircut that he just had to share. Bill is in Chicago. We're in England. It's about time we break out the video phones. Our Internet here leaves a bit to be desired but Skype came through and video did the job. Boo and wee Sophia got to say "Hello!" and we didn't feel so far away after all. Nice 'do, Bill.

Cheers!





We rented a truck and a semi to tow
Travel down the long and divided road
Look on the map I think we've been there before,
Close up the doors, let's roll once more.
Roll On Down The Highway - Bachman-Turner Overdrive (1976)

The Bored Ultimatum

Anyone who both knows my wife and has seen the Bourne Ultimatum should check out the first link in the new gadget in the right-hand column, "Worth Watching?" When I am bored or waiting for some software to finish, I find odd bits on YouTube and such -- this one seemed quite appropriate. When it's worth sharing, it will end up here.

Chilled To The Bone

Boo isn't a big fan of the clammy English weather (once again, 40 degrees and rain today.) Since day one, she has had issues with being cold and has gone to extremes to stay warm. When she was just a pup, she would try to sleep on the metal furnace vents in the floor of our condo. The vents would get too hot, she would let out a yelp and then circle a few times and lay back down on the same vent. Repeat this over and over again and you can understand that the dog was desperate to stay warm. Fast-forward to present day where allergies have made her scratch her fur even thinner and you have one complicated dog.

Despite my Kept Man status, I really do have a day job (shh - don't tell anyone.) And a cold, irritated, and very persistent bulldog is a formidable distraction from my work. Now that the sun has gone for the winter, she no longer has her sunny spot to lay in each morning and she expects me to help -- or else. She's figured out that she needs to be near the radiators if she has any hope of surviving the winter -- or so she thinks.

So, the dog and I put our heads together and created a solution that works for both of us: the Boo-Tent. The largest radiator in the house is the master bedroom. We put Boo's bed next to the radiator and drape her blanket from her bed to the radiator and wedge it on top so the blanket stays put. This set up has lots of advantages. Boo gets the trapped heat from the radiator. She can walk in and out of the Boo-Tent without my help. It keeps her from wandering around the house building nests anywhere there are pillows, blankets, or clothes that she can reach. The best thing is that after her morning outside biz-ness, she will enter into the tent and hibernate until about 3 or 4 in the afternoon. Distraction eliminated and I have more time to blog.

Cheers!

My Compliments To The Frozen Chef

The two foods I miss the most here are good pizza and Mexican. I fear Mexican is a lost cause but finally there is some hope for pizza. And it comes from the frozen food section. It might be that my expectations have fallen -- this new pizza I tried is the same brand that I tried when we first got here and that first pizza was horrid. Even worse, the brand dares to call itself "Chicago Town".

By coincidence, when they were here the Spencers bought me a frozen pizza of the same brand. The day they left, I was home alone and hungry so I gave it a try. I'm not going to say it was great but it was really good -- and I ate the whole pizza.

Now I have to take back any ill will I sent to the Chicago Town folks. I've bought a few others of the same type and they are actually decent pizzas. I wouldn't serve them to Mom or any die-hard Chicagoan, but when I need a pizza fix and don't want to bother with yeast and all that, these will work just fine. Even the box confirms it, this pizza is "scrummy!"

Cheers!

The Majestic Buzz

Continuing the day of sinful blogging, I've found my new Costco. That is, at least as far as my booze is concerned. There is a chain of stores in the UK called the "Majestic Wine Warehouse". A branch opened in Hereford just since we lived here so it's not just new for the Yanks. We kept driving by it -- it's on our only path into town -- and finally decided to stop this past weekend.

The place is simple but clean and bright and very white. Not unlike some of the large liquor stores in the US, stacks of boxes of wine line the aisles and fill the corners. Loose bottles sit on top with details and pricing. The wife wandered to the free wine tasting center (surprisingly unsupervised) and I found my way to the case beer selection.

Case beer, in the groceries anyway, typically means cases of cans or really expensive cases of bottles. I'm still in the "try everything I see" stage of life overseas, so buying a full case of anything expensive doesn't work. At the Warehouse, I was surprised to find an impressive mix of variety packs from brewers, both UK and beyond. For better or worse, this was also the first place I've seen a case of Labatt Blue.

Consistently, one of my favorite beers before coming to England was Chimay -- a Belgian Trappist Ale. To our Moms and Dads: you would not like this beer. It's dark, strong (upwards of 9%), and has flavors that you didn't even know beer could have, like ripe fruit and spice. Lo and Behold, the Warehouse had 6-bottle cases of Chimay packed with a Chimay glass for less than a tenner. Even better, it was a mix of the red label and the harder to find blue and white labels of Chimay. I'll take one please.

Consistently, one of my favorite beers after coming to England has been St Peter's Organic. The local stores carry loose bottles of a few of their varieties. I was dumbstruck when I found the Warehouse had not only cases of their best bitter, but also two different variety packs. One of the packs, Dark Beers, was full of beers I hadn't seen elsewhere. For 16 quid, not a bad deal - mixed cases ordered direct from the brewer are £22 and up.

The Warehouse continued to impress. You can order in-store or online and they will deliver. They have frequent wine tasting nights where you can try their latest selections paired with cheese and probably some crumpet action, too. The clerk at the store said they change their offerings frequently.

Now, I just need someone to split a case with. That Boo is a light-weight.

Cheers!

The Just and the Unjust Are Pretty Well Soaked

Thought I'd share the view from my home office. It hasn't changed much in about a week except it gets dark at about 4:30 in the afternoon. Rain, rain, and then a downpour or two. We had lightning last night -- don't seem to get much of that here. Nothing quite like a grand thunderstorm but nothing worse than weeks of dull drizzle.

Cheers. Pfffft.



The rain fell alike upon the just and upon the unjust, and for nothing was there a why and a wherefore. - W. Somerset Maugham (1874 - 1965)

Salt of the Earth

Thanks to Pez, a new salt has a permanent place on the spice rack. Most people have some table salt, maybe some sea salt. In typical fashion, we go overboard with a pig full of cooking salt, a grinder of sea salt, a small jar of salt with truffle essence, a recently added jar of smoked sea salt from the Hereford Food Fest, and a treasured bag of hand raked sea salt that we found in Portugal. Each one is different and can completely change a finished dish when sprinkled on just before serving.

And, now, last but not least, from the Spice House in Chicago, Vulcan's Fire Salt. A mix of salt with tang from citrus and vinegar, heat from habanero peppers, and aromatic spices like allspice and cumin, this stuff is amazingly versatile for those that like their food a bit spicier. So far, I've tried it on eggs, popcorn, pie from a can, rillets, and some minced pork meatballs and it works with everything. I wonder if they ship overseas?

Cheers!

Canned Pie

Alright, another adventure in British processed foods: the savoury pie in a can. Overall, for food out of a can, I was impressed. This steak and ale pie was much better than the Hunger Break mush-meat I'd tried previously, except for the last few bites...


The pie gets its name, Fray Bentos, from a town in Uruguay where it means "Friar Benedict". The name was applied to a line of British products made by oh-so-appetizingly named "Liebig Extract of Meat Company" whose main production site was in the town. I think it's all owned by Cambell's Soup now and made in the UK.

Pie prep: First, the can states that you need to remove the lid before baking. There may be a future blog regarding the results of making the pie whilst skipping that step. Lid off, the can reveals a thick layer of what appears to be raw dough -- the can says it's puff pastry. A bit of very thick brown gravy was trying to ooze out at the edge of the dough.


Next, slide the can into a hot oven for 25 minutes. I was home alone, making this for lunch, so instead of setting a timer, I just went back to work in the office upstairs and waited until I could smell a burnt pie crust permeating the house. I sorta forgot I was making it: I was that excited by this pie.


I didn't really know what to expect when I opened the oven, but I didn't expect the Jiffy-Pop- inspired exploding crust. It seems our oven runs a bit hot, so in less than 25 minutes we had slightly charred pie.


The crust was impressive, but I had to see what was underneath it. I violated the pie and revealed a thick layer of dark brown gravy and chunks of ... well ... let's call it minced "steak".



I was hungry so the pie wasn't all that bad. The meat wasn't too mushy, the gravy (at first) had a passable flavour and texture, and the crust had a decent flake to it. After a bite or two, I doused the whole thing in Vulcan fire salt (a habanero and spice infused salt) -- it needed a little something something to get me through the whole thing. As the pie cooled, though, whatever thickeners and stabilizers lived in the gravy made the last few bites take on an unnatural consistency not unlike very thick chocolate pudding from a box. It stuck to the fork, coated my throat, and nearly made me wretch. Next pie, I eat faster.


The damage: Over 800 calories and 40 grams of fat, balanced out by 35 grams of protein. Not as bad as drinking a quart of real custard, but not nearly as tasty, either.

Cheers!

PIE, n. An advance agent of the reaper whose name is Indigestion. - The Devil's Dictionary (Ambrose Pierce)

The Spoils of Home

Finally getting caught up after our spontaneous trip back to the USA! Last Monday, the wife called and said, "I have a crazy idea." Next thing you knew, we were taking a three day holiday in Chicago. First and foremost, thanks to Mel for letting us crash at his downtown condo. When you only have three days, location is everything!


It was a full weekend, with gatherings of friends every day and every night. For me, I fit in a trip to run into Wisconsin to surprise my 91-year old grandma who thought she was never going to see me again. Friday night, sleep-deprived chatting and a massive chorizo burrito. Saturday, we ate our favorite sushi (Tsuki) and then crashed a Halloween party (I was the guy with the cowbell.) Sunday was American-style grocery shopping and brunch at the Evanoff's followed by visiting all the new homes of our friends. Monday was lunch at the Berghoff (American chili dogs!), then shopping and our first dinner with less than a crowd. Tuesday, the jet lag came in handy for the 5AM wake up to make our return flight. Whoosh... and it then it was over.


There are lots of things we miss in Chicago. Our friends, friend's kids, and friend's dogs aren't open for coming back with us, so we had to settle for a few edible momentos and some expensive consumer goods (everything seemed like it was on-sale for us!) Given more time, we could have easily filled a suitcase (and we bought two of those just to be safe!)


I sooo miss good Mexican food and though you can get some things here, most of it is crap or so tuned to the British palate that it just tastes weird to me. For example, many of the salsas here have a sweet, pickled taste to them. Ewwww. We brought back various Mexican salsas (mostly muled into the country from Mexico by a friend), 6 packs of corn tortillas (the corn tortillas here are nothing like the real thing), a bag of masa flour (for making corn tortillas from scratch once the fresh are gone), and so forth. Next time, I hope to make it to the Maxwell Street Market to get a few kilos of dried peppers to augment everything else. I am down to just an ancho or two.


It was a good trip and hopefully it cures some homesickness instead of just making it worse! We'll be back again for the holidays and next visit, we should have enough time to see just about everybody. Til then.

And for those of you who aren't sure what the deal with cowbell is, you need to watch this clip.

Without friends no one would choose to live, though he had all other goods.
Aristotle (384 BC - 322 BC)