Tatties and Neeps

Land of the Lost

2009-05-19T07:05:00.002+01:00

Hi stranger.

If you are reading this because you still check this blog, well, good news, there is more blogging goodness but it had to find a new home. It's all very complicated and had to do with trade laws between England and Denmark and a cow in Greenland named something that I think translates as 'Daisy' but... I digest.

Here is the long story: We moved to England. And now we moved to Denmark. This blog is about England. The NEW blog is about Denmark. If you take your mouse and click on this next line right here, you will find the NEW blog. Forget this one, and remember the new one:

CLICK ON ME!

The Suspense Is Killing Me

2009-05-13T07:48:00.002+01:00

The new blog is just taking its first steps.... give it some time. Before long, it will once again be a part of your daily lives. Let's get hygge!

To find out the big winner of the new blog title, just follow this link:

WHAT'S MY NAME AGAIN?

For the last time, Cheers!

Name That Blog

2009-05-06T09:49:00.002+01:00

This blog is just about dead -- I can't be the Kept Man in England eating Tatties and Neeps anymore if I am eating... uh, whatever they eat in Denmark.

So, readers -- the four or five of you that are left -- I need some help. I'm taking suggestions for a new blog title and description.

Something like,

Donuts Without Holes:
The Life of an Expat in Denmark

And if you don't get the reference in that title, that is fine, just watch Caddy Shack some night and it will all make sense.

Seriously -- suggestions, please! There WILL be a prize -- IF someone tops my own entry.

Cheers!

Even Dragons Have Their Ending

2009-05-06T09:24:00.002+01:00

It's day two of moving out of the Lilacs. Last night I was thankful to still have a mattress on the floor and a fridge with food and drink. Boo concurs. The movers will pack the rest of today then tomorrow they will start loading a bigger truck. A bigger crew comes tomorrow. There is still a lot of work to be done.

All this just brings us to the end of one chapter and the start of another. On Saturday, dog and I fly off to Denmark to start phase two of our European adventures. The big difference that can't be overlooked (and wife and I agree it makes us both a bit nervous) is that we -- except for minor differences -- speak the same language here but there, well, we will be struggling to do things that here we took for granted.

Take my ongoing dispute with SkyTalk, for example. SkyTalk is the phone company that somehow took over our phone services. These jokers have overcharged us an insane amount and for reasons that make no sense, I can't cancel the service. I have written six letters, had at least 30 phone conversations, and now have an ongoing dialog with a government agency that was supposed to help (but hasn't so far.) How would I have done any of this in Denmark?

Ah, well, the movers are calling and I have to run. This blog is about done... all that is left is coming up with a new name and tagline for the new blog.

Cheers!

The Bean Innuendo

2009-04-28T10:43:00.010+01:00

Does anyone else see something horribly wrong with these products?

This is a marketing campaign that I think may be only have appeal in the UK market. Take a moment to sit and think about the meeting where people actually came up with the idea to market beans with phallic imagery.

There can't be that many bored expats in England that buy food just because its mildly humorous and/or potentially the most disgusting thing that they have ever eaten.

But it's not just the front of these naughty cans. The entire label is covered with fake news stories, all riddled with saucy content hidden under a thinly applied gauze of innocent context. We know what's for sale here.

The fact that this advertising works here might also explain why the banana is the most popular fruit (true, that) and why you can't find Twinkies at the grocery (also true.)

These beans were, by the way, far and away better than the Hunger Breaks. The meat was much more like, well, meat, and the beans weren't nearly as mushy. I would actually get these again. I may have been reeled in by the sexy label but I was sold on the hot and steamy saucy meat taste. Ew. I just made myself gag.
Well, that's it: the last bean blog before we move on to flatter pastures.

Cheers!

Cornwall's Clotted Cream Arteries

2009-04-22T08:41:00.001+01:00

Over the long Easter weekend, we packed into the Volvo and set out for a four day, three night tour of southwest England. Our trip took us through the county of Somerset, then Devon, to the end of the island in Cornwall and back again. Winding roads, single track lanes, and impossibly crooked roads meant that getting around here, like the rest of England, takes much longer than the navigation system in the car can fathom.

Here is a map showing our route (pan and zoom):

View Tatties and Neeps in a larger map

Since our time in England is short, we wanted to get somewhere we were afraid we would never get back to. All of the travel books remark on the climate of this chunk of England that juts out into the warm air of the Gulf Stream and has an (almost) tropical feel with palms scattered about. The area is known for some signature tastes: seafood, pasties, clotted cream, cream teas, ice cream, fudge -- most of it heart-clogging.

Day 1: Hereford to St Ives via Padstow

Stormy weather followed our drive into Padstow -- jokingly known as Padstein since the celebrity chef Rick Stein has opened four restaurants, a deli, a cafe, 40-room hotel, and a cooking school here. After parking in the most ignorantly cramped car park I have ever seen (it took a 10-point turn to fit into the spot and there was no way the guy in the Land Rover next to me was going to get his door open.) We had reservations for a seaside lunch at the simply named, "The Seafood Restaurant" -- Stein's flagship restaurant. Perfectly cooked seafood was outmatched by so-so accompanying flavors and exorbitant prices. We didn't hang around Padstow -- the wind was so strong that neither man nor dog could handle the sand getting whipped into our faces. I was happy to leave -- the place surprisingly oozed "tourist trap" and "irritated locals".

St Ives was better. We had booked a cottage at the decent Garrack Hotel for the night and it had lots of grass for the dog to explore. From our room, we had a great view of the coast and the town. That night was dinner in town at the funky St Andrews St Bistro where I had pork belly (again) and it was the best I've had yet.

Day 2: St Ives to Penzance via Lands End

In the morning, the weather had cleared and the sun was warming things up. We toured the town and visited the Tate St Ives -- a little sister to the Tate Museum of Modern Art in London. The coastal main street of St Ives was packed with chippies, ice cream shops, fudge peddlers, and about a million Easter tourists. Boo had about as much fun as a dog can have on the beach here. A pasty and some fish and chips for lunch and then we were on our way to Land's End.

I hadn't done my homework or maybe I wouldn't have been as shocked to see that Land's End was a giant gaudy theme park venue, featuring things like Dr. Who Up Close. We skipped all that to get to the coast line behind the eye-sore buildings. This is the westernest most tip of southern England. The rugged cliff walks made for some great views and the dog enjoyed the abundant rabbit "kibble".

Next stop was Minack Theater, a open-air theater built into the side of a cliff over the ocean. It is used for active productions even now -- one local told me that they perform in all but the nastiest weather. We didin't have time for a show in our schedule but they were prepping for the night's show while we walked around.

Last stop for the day was the Abbey Hotel in Penzance -- highly recommended. The place is loaded with character (windy stairs, a mix of modern and old, and rich colors) and the staff was great. We had the best meal of the trip by far at the newly opened dining room of the hotel -- a boudin noir (black/blood pudding) ravioli was one of the highlights. My dessert -- a "deconstructed pina colada" -- was in the top three best desserts I have ever had.

Day 3: Penzance to Lynmouth via the Eden Project

Saturday morning found us on our way to nearby Marazion to hike across the low-tide causeway to St Michael's Mount, a part-time island that is home to a castle and chapel. It is historically the twin of Mont Saint Michel in Normandy, France. It was also closed on Saturdays -- allowing us to walk up to the base of the hill but no further.

Next stop was the ambitious Eden Project outside of St. Austell -- a place I have wanted to visit since we moved to the UK. In the bottom of an old clay pit, two 'biomes' have been built, one of which is the largest greenhouse in the world. The biomes, one dedicated to recreating a rainforest and the other to a Mediterranean climate, are intended to provide an educational view into the importance of these climates and how what we do as humans to interact with them. The whole place is a smart, eye-opening look into things the average person doesn't think about every day.

From here, it was the neverending drive to perfectly-placed Lynmouth. Lynmouth sits directly on the coastline of north Devon, on a gorge splitting a steep hill. The hill to cruise into the tiny town was a 25% grade -- you could smell the burning brakes of all the cars just arrived into town. Another cottage was our home for the night, this time it was Shelley's Cottage -- part of the Rising Sun Hotel. The cottage is famous for the supposed stay by Percy Bysshe Shelley (famous poet) for his honeymoon in 1812. The history of the place was great but I think the couch and bedding has needed replaced since Shelley was there.

Day 4: Heading Home!

On Sunday, we had breakfast brought to the 'cottage' -- awful! Greasy fried eggs on top of toast that had been -- no kidding here -- deep-fried in what tasted like the oil from last night's fish fry. Ewwwwww. We then spent an hour or so exploring the shops and streets (all two of them) of Lynmouth. We finally tried real Cornish ice cream -- I 'supersized' mine by getting a dollop of real Cornish Clotted Cream on top. Gross. Imagine a spoon of creamy butter on top of your ice cream. We set out of town across the north coast of Devon and back to the M5 to home.

Cheers!

Gluttony For Punishment

2009-04-17T09:22:00.008+01:00

One of the best things about travelling is getting to tour grocery stores in different parts of the world. You don't know the brands, you might not be able to read the package, and in a lot of cases you just don't have a clue what you are looking at. On top of that, you may find that the importance of certain foods has shifted quite a bit from what you are used to. Last night, I was wandering around ASDA (becoming more and more like Wal-mart every day) and noticed that the canned food section is much smaller than the USA but most of it is different kinds of beans. Frozen potatoes (chips!) occupy about 60 feet of the frozen food section. You could get lost in the cheddar cheese section. There are a lot more kinds of bacon here. You can buy off-brand Marmite. And so on. If you look, there is as much culture at the grocery store as there is at a museum.

So, back to beans. I've blogged about the Hunger Breaks products before and just how nasty they are. I know I said I wouldn't do it again but oops I did it again. I stumbled upon another variety in the store and since our days in England are numbered, I had to check it out. That can was a beast to open.

This time its, "All Day Breakfast". From the can, a tantalizing mix of baked beans, tomato sauce, sausages, button mushrooms, bacon, and the real highlight: pork and egg nuggets with cereal (this was the deal closer for me.) I was pretty excited (not really) to find that the pork nuggets had a fancy yellow egg center, kinda like a Cadbury Creme Egg.

Of the three Hunger Breaks, this was actually the best -- edible enough with a healthy covering of Vulcan Fire Salt. I was happy to find that the mushrooms weren't 'pressed and formed.' Or could it simply be that I am just getting used to bland, mushy, soggy meat coupled with bland, mushy, soggy beans? Will I miss this stuff when we go?

Only one bean blog left before... the end.

Cheers!

"Better beans and bacon in peace than cakes and ale in fear." - Aesop

It's All Blarney

2009-04-14T11:54:00.013+01:00

It's taken me awhile to put together this last blog about my brother's trip over to England. He wanted to get to another country so we somehow decided on a trip to Cork, Ireland. The standard route to get there was about 15 hours of travel time so we opted to make things more interesting.

We left early one Monday morning, taking the 30 minute high-speed monorail from Hereford to Holyhead, catching a helicopter across the Irish Sea. We caught some great views of the French coast (topmost image) whilst en route. The boat we arranged met us just off the coast of Kinsale, Ireland. We made the 40ft drop into the water (cold!) and climbed aboard and made our way inland up the River Brandon. Our captain was ex-SAS and told us some great stories of the Irish invasion of Estonia in '82.

View Tatties and Neeps in a larger map

Kinsale is great little town -- so great that we decided to buy it. We named a restaurant after our third brother. We didn't eat there, though (the food sucks.) Instead we ate at the acclaimed Fishy Fish. That meal was so good we bought that place, too.

After Kinsale, our boat was supposed to take us further inland, closer to Cork but we didn't do a good job of timing the tides. Our boat was stuck.

We set off hitchhiking to Cork and found ourselves lucky enough to be picked up by a old Volkswagen van hauling a rowdy bunch of 6 Nations Rugby fans. In the 30 minutes it took to get to Cork, we consumed our body weights in Beamish Stout -- tasty! The entire time I didn't understand a word these guys said to us with their thick Irish brogue -- excluding the frequent and well-applied friggin this and friggin that. Brilliant. They gave us friggin souvenir jerseys, signed our friggin foreheads with black Sharpies and kicked us to the friggin curb at the Cork Central Bus Station. We stumbled to our hotel from there.

Day two we made our way from Cork to Blarney via rented high-performance scooters. Mike got a ticket from the local pigs -- I was too fast for that. Squeeeeeeeel.

Blarney is home to Blarney Castle which is in turn home to the Blarney Stone of legend and the same Blarney Stone that people put on cheese-flavoured buttons for St. Patrick's Day. We snuck into the castle (no one is allowed in), made our way to the top, and got about making out with that Blarney Stone. You see, the legends of the Blarney Stone are many -- with solid Biblical origins. Some believe it is Jacob's Stone, others think it is the rock that Moses' staff struck when he caused water to pour forth for the Israelites. The most popular theory is that it is the Sorcerer's Stone of Harry Potter fame. Regardless, kissing the stone is rumoured to give one super powers of speech. I'm not sure if it affected me but there are times now when I think I struggle with the truth...

More photos, less Blarney:

Cheers!

Caerphilly Cheese Steak

2009-04-02T07:53:00.000+01:00

On our journey into Wales, we hit two major castles and crossed into Mexico.

The first stop, about 2 hours drive from home, was Caerphilly Castle -- a monster of a place sitting on 30 acres in the middle of Caerphilly, a modern town outside of Cardiff in south Wales. The place is well-known for its castle and the cheese it gives its name to. The castle is the largest in Wales, the 2nd largest in Britain (only smaller than Windsor), and is an amazing example of 13th century military technology. It was a concentric design with walls inside walls -- to get to the middle you needed to cross three drawbridges and get through 4 massive doors and portcullises.

View Larger Map

From Caerphilly, we set out for Carreg Cennen (kare egg ken in) with a planned pit stop at the Pant-yr-Athro Country Inn and International Hostel. More importantly, the guidebook we had for Wales mentioned they also served up some Mexican food. The place ended up being quite out of our way and also closed and seemingly desolate. It was hard to tell if they were actually still a functioning business. Yet another attempt to find decent Mexican in the UK has failed!

From there, we finished the trek to Carreg Cennen -- a castle in by far the most dramatic location I have seen in Great Britain. Perched atop a high hill in the middle of rural Wales, it is quite a sight to see.

The castle actually sits in the middle of private farm land, surrounded by pastures of roving sheep. The hike up to the castle is a leisurely 30 minutes. The side of the castle opposite the winding hill approach is a limestone precipice that drops sharply down into a quiet brook and then again into more farmland.

View Larger Map

We left about 9AM Saturday morning for our little adventure, and returned back to the Lilacs around 6:30PM that night. We guessed we spent only about 2 and a half hours not driving. The last leg, after Carreg Cennen, was a crazy trip through the tiniest, steepest, narrowest, hedge-encroachedest, farm-vehicle obstructedest roads I had been on here yet. I was glad to get out of the car when we finally made it home!

Here you go, mum: more pictures!

Cheers!

“The Castle Aaahhhgggg - our quest is at an end.” - Month Python and the Quest for the Holy Grail (1975)

The Revolution Was Not Televised

2009-03-31T07:00:00.000+01:00

Mon frere and I took a day trip up north towards Shropshire -- about a 2 hour drive -- passed by Ludlow and ended up at the Iron Bridge. It's at a scenic spot with a quaint town along side the River Severn. The highlight of the town, and part of the reason its one of less than a thousand World Heritage sites worldwide, is the Iron Bridge.

The bridge was opened in 1781 as the very first iron-wrought bridge in history and is considered by many to be the symbol of the Industrial Revolution. It was near this site in 1709 that Abraham Darby I pioneered a process for producing coke from coal. Darby's grandson, Abraham Darby III, later built the bridge. The whole process meant that iron could be produced much more cheaply than before -- the process spread and brought significant change to human development and is now known as the Industrial Revolution.

View Larger Map

Since it had never been done before, the iron-wrought bridge was built using techniques from wood carpentry and used things like dove-tail joints. It was also a bit over built and later bridges covered longer spans using less than half the iron of this one. The bridge is now closed for all but pedestrian traffic.

A striking contrast to the Bridge and its surroundings, straight up the River Severn loom towers from what looks like a huge nuclear facility -- we were surprised to see it at a World Heritage Site. But we were mistaken: true to the coal heritage of the site, it is a coal "super station" that began construction in 1929.

Cheers!

Oh Brother

2009-03-29T16:01:00.003+01:00

My brother Mike came to England. Cheap tickets and extra unpaid vacation (courtesy of the economic slowdown) made a spontaneous trip materialize out of nowhere. I had to find stuff for us to do for 10 days. We covered a lot of ground: most of Herefordshire, a big chunk of Wales, and even a journey into Ireland. Nearly 3 tanks of gas in the Volvo -- at a range of over 400 miles each, about 10 trains, a tram, and two ferries, and a handful of buses were used in the making of this trip.

I've been promising Mum some photos so this is part 1 of several covering the past two weeks adventures.

The Weir Garden is a site just outside of Hereford city in Swainshill. Rach and I had driven by it often enough on our way out to Oak Church, a relatively upscale food store and the first place we found Frank's Redhot for sale. We had never went in to the Garden.

The Garden is managed by the National Trust, an extensive charity that preserves hundreds of sites in the UK and makes them available to folks everywhere. The garden was built back in the 1920's by a guy by the name of Roger Parr. No idea who he was -- but he picked quite a spot. A steep and terraced hillside with tall trees sits on the edge of winding spot of the River Wye. Each season brings out a different set of flowers. The pictures say it best:

Cheers!

Sheep Stuffed Sheep

2009-03-18T14:48:00.006Z

If food-borne illness would have had its way, I might not have been able to deliver this blog.

January 25th is the birthday of Robert Burns, a Scottish poet that is a hero and revered figure in that country. The typical celebration of his birthday is a Burns Night, a simple affair involving poetry and a meal consisting of haggis and its sidekicks: tatties, neeps, and a dram. In other parts of the world, that simply means mashed potatoes, mashed turnips, and a shot or ten of Scottish whiskey. Oh, and haggis is, according to Wikipedia "[a] sheep's 'pluck' (heart, liver and lungs), minced with onion, oatmeal, suet, spices, and salt, mixed with stock, and traditionally boiled in the animal's stomach for approximately three hours." Yummy.

This past January 25th, I realized it was Burn's birthday. I frantically called the wife at work and told her she had to stop at the Super Shell Station. Yep, the super-Shell has that, too. Always a sport, she came home with not one, but two haggi (plural for haggis, I think.) One was a normal haggis, the other was one of these new fangled vegetarian haggi -- a concept which only barely makes sense.

Unfortunately, one thing led to another and we never got a chance to eat the haggis. Trips to Denmark and a later revelation by the wife that she wouldn't eat the haggis with me led to one delay after another. Until this past Friday, March 13. Friday, the 13th. Over 30 days past its expiration date, and the time was finally right for haggis-eating.

The haggis was much better than I expected. I've had it once before, and this one was the better of the two experiences. It was lighter (it's all relative when you are eating organs blended with fat), more flavorful -- I would even say just a bit spicy. Worth doing again at the very least! Cheers!

Fair fa' your honest, sonsie face,
Great chieftain o' the pudding-race!
Aboon them a' yet tak your place,
Painch, tripe, or thairm:
Weel are ye wordy o'a grace
As lang's my arm.

The groaning trencher there ye fill,
Your hurdies like a distant hill,
Your pin was help to mend a mill
In time o'need,
While thro' your pores the dews distil
Like amber bead.

His knife see rustic Labour dight,
An' cut you up wi' ready sleight,
Trenching your gushing entrails bright,
Like ony ditch;
And then, O what a glorious sight,
Warm-reekin', rich!

Then, horn for horn, they stretch an' strive:
Deil tak the hindmost! on they drive,
Till a' their weel-swall'd kytes belyve
Are bent like drums;
Then auld Guidman, maist like to rive,
Bethankit! hums.

Is there that owre his French ragout
Or olio that wad staw a sow,
Or fricassee wad make her spew
Wi' perfect sconner,
Looks down wi' sneering, scornfu' view
On sic a dinner?

Poor devil! see him owre his trash,
As feckles as wither'd rash,
His spindle shank, a guid whip-lash;
His nieve a nit;
Thro' blody flood or field to dash,
O how unfit!

But mark the Rustic, haggis-fed,
The trembling earth resounds his tread.
Clap in his walie nieve a blade,
He'll mak it whissle;
An' legs an' arms, an' hands will sned,
Like taps o' trissle.

Ye Pow'rs, wha mak mankind your care,
And dish them out their bill o' fare,
Auld Scotland wants nae skinking ware
That jaups in luggies;
But, if ye wish her gratefu' prayer
Gie her a haggis!
Robert Burns, Address to a Haggis, 1978

Building A British Hot Sauce

2009-03-13T16:36:00.002Z

Boring. That could sum up the last two weeks in England. The wife has been out and about all over the world and I have been holding down the fort. The weather here has finally started to come around and its already time to start mowing the lawn.

Left to my own devices, I was craving spicy food. No sense trying to go out and find spicy food here, I had to make my own.

Here is my recipe for British-inspired hot sauce/marinade:

About 100 chile de arbol peppers, stems removed.
3 Scotch Bonnet peppers (or more, I should have had more!)
4 cloves garlic
Lots of Marmite. Seriously, lots. A whole jar might be about right.
1/4 c. dry Coleman English mustard
1/2 c. raisins
1/2 c. vinegar
Mix and match chile pepper from the Turkish bazaar.
Allspice, whole, maybe a tablespoon.
A good splash of good, smoky grappa from Rome. Trust me, this was perfect.

Steep chile de arbol peppers in hot water for about an hour. Remove stems from Scotch bonnets. Mix Coleman's with cold water to make a paste and let it sit for about 15 minutes. Put the allspice in a dry pan and toast over medium-low heat until fragrant, then crush in a mortar and pestle. Throw everything in a good blender and blend for a while. Season to taste with salt and Marmite. Pack in old bottle. Slather on Pig-in-a-Box pork shoulder chunks, broil until brown and your eyes burn. Serve with dairy products and more grappa!

The end results were excellent and the hot sauce has proved to be good on most everything with meat in it. Good just as salsa for chips, too.

Cheers!

85 Million Bites

2009-03-03T20:02:00.004Z

Ok, if you haven't watched Charlie biting his brother's finger, than you might be the last one on earth. When I first posted the link in my "Worth Watching?" box over on the right there, Charlie had 35 million views. That was about 4 days ago. Charlie now has 85 million views. Sure... it's cute. Sure... they have funny little English accents. And no question Charlie is a large baby in an oddly humourous way. But 85 million?

See Charlie here.

It's My Pig In A Box

2009-03-01T09:27:00.003Z

To recap, last weekend we stopped in to Frasers of Turnastone on our way into the Welsh hills. That set in motion the delivery of a Pig in the Box: a delivered box of fresh pork. After an email and a phone call with Chrissy - the most enthusiastic meat-representative I have ever met - we switched up our pig in the box for the Turnastone Taster. The Taster was a bit cheaper and allowed us to mix in some other cuts. We also could select from a list of other meats and charcuterie.

Saturday morning while we were out running errands, the box was delivered. Keep in mind, Frasers had no payment information from us, no credit card, no check. They didn't leave an invoice. We'll just settle up later.

We picked the pork belly for dinner. The meat slideshow tells the rest.

Cheers!

"1: Cut a hole in a box
2: Put your junk in that box
3: Make her open the box
And that's the way you do it"
-Saturday Night Live, 2006

Humpbacked Wales

2009-02-23T11:00:00.001Z

This weekend we decided to get up and see some of the countryside. We knew we wanted to make a stop at Frasers of Turnastone to get, maybe, a Pig in a Box. They didn't have fresh pork available -- but they will for next weekend so I am on the list to get a box o' pork delivered directly to the Lilacs next Saturday. Surely, that experience will be bloggable.

On the approach to Frasers, we could see a large, green "hill" in the distance. After negotiations for the Pig in a Box concluded, I asked the lady at Frasers how far away that hill was and if we could go up it. Fifteen minutes later we had a map on the back of a paper bag, and wife, dog, and I were on our way to Wales.

First stop on the map was supposed to be Hay-On-Wye, a small town on the border between England and Wales but it I was easily distracted by sign-postings for Arthur's Stone -- an ancient tomb that has more recent connections to the legends of King Arthur. The stone wasn't too exciting unless you try to fathom how folks 5,000 years ago perched the big 25 ton rock on top of the little rocks.

After the Rock, we made our way into Hay-On-Wye, a very quaint little town just barely inside of Wales in the county of Powys. Hay-On-Wye is known nationwide -- some would argue internationally -- as a mecca for book-lovers of all kinds. The town has a population of less than 2000 and over 30 bookshops, many very specialized or dealing in rare books (Sci-fi Cookery?) The tourist appeal was immediately obvious: the car park in town was one of the largest I have seen in the UK.

The true highlight of our day was everything after we left Hay-On-Wye and headed into the hills of Brecon Beacons National Park. We spent the next 5 hours winding up and down a single-lane track (paved, for the most part) across a ridge of the Brecon Beacons, a mountain range so-named for the old practice of lighting signal fires ('beacons') on the top of hills to warn of things such as those nasty English attacking again. I marked our route on the Tatties map below.

View Larger Map

Near the end of the overland route, we arrived at Llanthony Priory. The Priory dates from around the year 1100 and has a colorful history. It was thought to have its beginnings from when William de Lacy, a Norman nobleman, found a ruined chapel of St. David at the Priory's current location. Now it conveniently hosts a trekking center for hiking and horseback riding and also a quaint pub serving up a pint and some pub food (fish and chips, of course.)

This was also the virgin outing for my new GPS camera gadget. Now, when I take photos, they get tagged with their location using GPS satellites. If you click on the slideshow, it will take you to my public album. On the right-hand side you will see a map of where the photos were taken. Never again will I have to wonder where I took that photo...

We soon hope to make our way back up the hills when we are more equipped for hiking to the top. Til then. Cheers!

“There are many paths to the top of the mountain, but the view is always the same.” - Chinese Proverb

The Fish Is In The Chips

2009-02-16T22:22:00.007Z

Walkers -- a crisp/chip brand that looks a lot likes Frito Lay because it is -- released six new flavors of crisps that consumers (even me!) can vote on to pick a favorite. I only saw four out of six flavors at the rest stop we were at so here are the prelims.

Crispy Duck and Hoisin: The wife says it was ok but wouldn't buy it. I was impressed at how closely it really did taste like duck from a cheap Chinese restaurant. Or maybe it just tasted that crap sauce in the little packets.

Next, the oddly named Cajun Squirrel. Pez and I made Squirrel Stew once from squirrels he terminated. We put a few too many chillies in it and it burned me twice. The crisps were like a mild BBQ with a bit of clove or something. Just ok.

They did a good job of making this next one taste like its name. And that's a bad thing. If you have ever had fries that were cooked in the oil used to cook a few dozen orders of frozen fish dinners, sprinkle on some vinegar and you have a good idea of what these mistakes taste like.

My favorite, by far. A bit of spice, a nice robust cocoa overtone -- well balanced and unique. Like a good molé.

Now I need to hunt down Onion Bajhi (sp?) and Builder's Breakfast -- the two flavors I somehow missed. Until then...

Cheers!

“Experts in ancient Greek culture say that people back then didn’t see their thoughts as belonging to them. When ancient Greeks had a thought, it occurred to them as a god or goddess giving an order. Apollo was telling them to be brave. Athena was telling them to fall in love.Now people hear a commercial for sour cream potato chips and rush out to buy, but now they call this free will.At least the ancient Greeks were being honest.” - Chuck Palahniuk (American freelance journalist)

Winter Bewilderland

2009-02-12T09:36:00.006Z

The blog has been a bit slow lately -- I'm going to go ahead and blame it on the weather. We had 4 days of snow in Hereford last week. It was a beautiful disaster. Most of the schools were closed, roads were impassible, and they ran out of salt. I heard on the telly that they were bringing in salt from France and Tunisia. I think there may have been five or six inches of snow.

We made a trip to London right in the middle of it and ended up backtracking a 100 miles or so because the only two bridges between south Wales and England were shut down (we found out later it was because of ice falling off the bridge towers.) The navigation system kept telling us to re-route but we always ignore it -- this time it had a pretty good reason to keep chirping at us. Live and learn.

Cheers!

“So comes snow after fire, and even dragons have their ending.” - J.R.R. Tolkien

Dégustation Bohême Bourgeoise

2009-02-01T19:53:00.003Z

On our trip to Prague, you might be surprised to find out that the highlight of our eating wasn't the giant pig knuckle. It was the meal we had at a restaurant called La Degustation. This place offers three tasting menus: a high-end meal that uses luxury items like truffles and foie gras, a menu featuring relatively lighter fare, and finally, a menu based on a Czech cookbook that is a couple of centuries old.

The wife had the lighter menu and I had last option, the Dégustation Bohême Bourgeoise (we share every course anyway!) And both were amazing. Every course (there were 7 on each menu) was preceeded with one or two small tastes of something: the amuse-bouche. We also super-sized the meal by getting the 7-course wine pairing to go with it.

We got a copy of the menu to take home so I could actually remember what I was eating. Here is the detail on my menu:

entrée: poached Prague ham, mailner foam, apple sorbet, egg bread
soupe: wild poultry soup, poached quail egg, poultry loaf
poché: organic beef ouster blade, creamy sauce with fresh dill, barley dumpling
fumé maison: freshly smoked beef tongue, chickpea purée, pickled shallot, roasted onion with marjoram
braisé: rabbit livers, onion sauce, carrot purée, red beet, home made lard
grillé: coated veal entrecôte, cucumber granité, braised potato
sucré: apple gingerbread, vanilla foam with rum

The wife's menu, Dégustation Terre et Eau:

entrée: organic parsnip ravioli, saffron velouté, aceto balsamico extra aged
soupe: soup of jerusalem artichoke, orange jelly, bell pepper preserve, olive oil la crianza
poché: fiji egg, cauliflower velouté, caviar ossetra
fumé maison: lightly smoked turbot, orange glacé, beluga lentils
braisé: salsify, alba velouté, lamb lettuce
homard: butter poached canadian lobster, creamy leek, cashew nuts, red beet essence
sucré: macaroon of pistachios and black currant, caramel ganache, lime ice cream

If you feel overwhelmed, imagine this with basically another course between each course. One of the servers -- bless her soul -- made a mistake and delivered the best amuse-bouche (the best taste all night?) to our table an unintentional second time. It's the first picture below: sweetbreads with foie gras sauce. If you are a foodie, this should mean something special to you. In my world, sweetbreads are rich man's bacon!

Top to bottom, we really enjoyed this meal. There were a few courses where unless you tried every flavor on your plate together all at once, it was good but not great -- but once you combined the flavors as they were intended: taste bud fireworks. My favorite main dish (not a bouche) was probably the smoked beef tongue. Now there's a meat that just doesn't get enough respect in the USA.

Service was great -- most everyone spoke English very well, especially both of the sommeliers and the environment was classy but you would have felt comfortable wearing jeans (of course, that's how I think most of Europe works.) They even allowed dogs -- the entertainment for the night was a table near us with a dog sitting at the table, on a chair. No, I'm not kidding.

Alright, I'm gonna go eat some homemade pizza.

Cheers!

“"Well," said Pooh, "what I like best -- " and then he had to stop and think. Because although Eating Honey was a very good thing to do, there was a moment just before you began to eat it which was better than when you were, but he didn't know what it was.” - Winnie the Pooh

Your Dumb

2009-01-27T22:53:00.004Z

At Old Town Square in Prague, there was a light show emanating from the Old Town Hall building. It used bright green laser light to write words across the plaza. I'm not sure if it was supposed to mean anything -- SILENCE! -- but at the very least, it was cool to look at.

Cheers!

Dr. Evil: You know, I have one simple request. And that is to have sharks with frickin' laser beams attached to their heads! Now evidently my cycloptic colleague informs me that that can't be done. Ah, would you remind me what I pay you people for? Honestly? Throw me a bone here! What do we have?

Number Two: Sea bass.

Dr. Evil: [Unconvinced] Right.

Number Two: They are mutated sea bass.

Dr. Evil: Really? Are they ill tempered?

Number Two: Absolutely.

Dr. Evil: Oh well, that's a start.

-- from Austin Powers: International Man of Mystery (1997)

Prague In Pictures

2009-01-26T09:04:00.003Z

This past weekend we went to Denmark to take a sneak preview of what might be the next chapter of our lives overseas... but that story will have to wait.

So for now, back to Prague where I've managed to narrow down about a 1,000 pictures to about 30 of the better ones. Picture-taking conditions were not ideal: it was hazy all day and raining or snowing about half the time. The buildings and bridges all need that first good spring rain to wash the grime off them and brighten them up. I can't wait to go back on a clear, summer day to try this again!

First, a panorama shot from one of the walls of Prague Castle... stitched using the demo version of Autopano Pro. Click to expand:

And then the slideshow:

Cheers!

St. Vitus

2009-01-22T09:34:00.005Z

The grounds of Prague Castle hold the impressive St. Vitus Cathedral. It is the 3rd cathedral to be built on this spot, the first built in 925AD and the last started in 1344 but not completely finished until 1929. This is largest and most important church in the Czech Republic. We spent a few hours up around the cathedral -- we attended a short concert in the next door St. George's Basilica.

This first picture is another panorama from stitched together photos. This one was a bit more ambitious and stitches 46 photos together -- click to enlarge:

And a slide show...

Cheers!

Fishsticks!

2009-01-21T10:10:00.005Z

While in Prague this past weekend, Chase Bank, my main bank back in the USA, once again turned off all of my access to my accounts. Even though I have explained to them I live in Europe, they don't care. Any time I use my card outside of England, they shut off all my cards until I call them. They also have their security people call late at night to confirm that I have been shopping on Amazon UK. I just tried to call and get access back to my accounts. Here is the conversation I had with Delores (not her real name but it rhymes with something):

Delores: Hello sir, can you confirm your social security number?

Me: Sure. ###-##-####

Delores: Can you confirm your account number?

Me: Ok. #### #### #### ####

Delores: Can you confirm your complete address to the zip code?

Me: Yes (I give her my old Chicago address -- usually what they want since they won't accept that we live in England.)

Delores: I'm sorry sir, we have another address on file.

Me: Ok -- I live in England. I gave you my last US residence. Here is my English address:
The Lilacs
Callow
Hereford
HR2 XXX

Delores: Sir, can you tell me where in England that is?

Me: Sorry?

Delores: Where is the Callow?

Me: What do mean where is it? It's just outside of Hereford. Addresses work differently here than in the USA.

Delores: I'm sorry sir. Can you tell me where in England that Ka-K... Callow is, exactly?

Me: Um. Do you want directions to my house? It's in the county of Herefordshire?

Delores: Where in England is that?

Me: I'm sorry -- there must be some confusion. My address is like this (now speaking very slowly):
The Lilacs -- that is the name of the house I live in.
Callow -- that is the name of the village I live in.
Hereford -- that is the town near our village.
HR2 XXX -- that is our post code, like a zip code. There are only 8 houses in it.
Ok?

Delores: I'm sorry sir, I still need to know exactly where that is in England.

Me: Can you explain how you want me to define that?

Delores: Can you tell me wha- where Callow is?

Me: Huh?
...
Do you want latitude and longitude??? I'm 2 hours west of London, I am on the border of Wales, on the River Wye, off Ross Road, near the A49, by that snack bar and the two ga-rages. How is that?

Delores: I'm sorry sir, for your security, I cannot access your account for you. You can call our international service number or visit a branch.

Me: I live in England. You don't have branches here.

Delores: Do you have a pen?

Me: ?

Delores: 713-262-1679... you can call from 9 to 5 CST.

Me: Wait, your "international service" number works on Central Standard Time?

Delores: Yes sir, I'm sorry.

Me: Not sure if you have any one to tell this to, but I've been a customer with Chase for 20 years and I plan on closing all my accounts. This has been horribly unhelpful. Cheers!

Czech, Please!

2009-01-19T21:52:00.004Z

Hi folks. We are back from a weekend in Prague in the Czech Republic. This is a city with a thick history and a hearty persona. It's been a long day but I had to put a little something-something up on the blog. This quick pic is from a random stop into a place for lunch on our way out to see some sights. This is also the place where I am 99% sure I saw a guy stab a shiv into the front right tire of Audi A6 that was parked in an unfriendly manner on the curb. Seriously but... anyway ... we had an excellent meal at this place and the price was right as well. I think it worked out to about $35 for the whole meal.

To start, we had a Czech cheese, battered and deep-fried -- when you cut open the crispy crust, the innards oozed all over the plate. Then soup: cream of mushroom and Bohemian garlic. Both excellent. The garlic soup was a thin, garlicky broth with tiny cubes of potatoes and crunchy, salty croutons floating in it. I'm going to make it at home and soon. Our mains were equally hearty and good: crispy roast duck with Czech-style dumplings and a beee-you-tee-ful pork knuckle. All this with some dark Czech beer.

It was all nice until the waiter came back and asked if we were finished. The portions were ample and we were quite stuffed. I had done my best with the pig but hadn't eaten much of the skin and fat. The waiter gave us a disappointed look and when I said we were done, he said, "Really?" and shook his head. Ouch. Next time I eat the fat.

More to come, stay tuned. Cheers!

Oh Pita, That's Nasty

2009-01-12T07:53:00.008Z

After the highlight of my birthday this past week, the rest of the week may have passed for the dullest in my brief English history. The wife's company was doing a count of their stock -- scheduled hours were 8 to 8 but she was getting home at 9 or later each night -- dusty from the warehouse and dog-tired. And, she worked Saturday, too. The dog and I can only entertain each other for so long before we start getting on each other's nerves. We need our better third to level us out.

The big highlight of my birthday was a new iPod Touch. If you have an iPhone, same thing minus the phone. But, linked into our home wireless network, I am simply in awe of what this thing can do. It's a remote to control my music from anywhere in the house, it keeps me on top of Facebook (oh so important) for the first time, I can make calls over Skype, I can browse the Internet while sitting on a giant, orange toilet, and so on and nonsuch. Niner.

Anyway... we are trying to trim down the bulk in our pantry. I walk in, figure what's been there the longest, and then cook it. This past week, I re-discovered a kilo of dried chickpeas -- you know, garbanzos. One of the stores here had them on a discount shelf months ago. I know about two things that you make with these things: hummus and falafel. We made both. I'd never made falafel before.

It's a simple thing: soak the beans for at least a day. Throw them in a food processor with herbs and spice. I toasted and added cumin the wife bought at the Bazaar in Turkey, both coriander seed and coriander leaf, fresh parsley, a healthy dose of cayenne pepper, black pepper, and salt. Also into this mix goes a bit of baking powder -- to lighten up the texture. Just before frying, added finely chopped onions, garlic, and (just to use them up), a couple of shallots. Form meatball sized balls or patties, deep-fry a couple of minutes. Done. It might have beginner's luck but the results were really, really good.

We stuffed them in crappy English pitas with fresh hummus, cukes, tomatoes, some spicy greens (watercress with parsley and cilantro), and a yogurt sauce made with dill. I topped mine with some Indian lime pickle (just to use it up) and some extra cayenne. Fantastic. I stuffed my self. And if you are following along at home, a kilo of chickpeas makes a helluva lot of falafel. I'll be happily eating these things all week.

Til then -- the big news this week is Thursday's trip to Prague -- land of lasting architecture and beer...Cheers!

Did I hear a "niner" in there? - Richard in the movie Tommy Boy, 1995

Everything Here Is Puddin'

2009-01-05T15:21:00.000Z

Some of you might remember the Jiffy-Pop-pie-in-a-can I tried a month or two back. It's time for Fray Bentos round two:

I'm not sure what voodoo it would take to get the pudding to come out of the can looking like that thing on the lid.

To cook it: Poke holes in can. Drop into simmering water -- up to the rim. Cover, simmer for 30 minutes. Remove water and remove lid. Enjoy.

Appearances can be deceiving -- this thing looked and smelled not so appetizingly. Gross. Or is it? I had to go on.

I ate it. All of it. And it was actually pretty good -- once you got past the idea of chunks of meat and organ hidden like Easter eggs-gone-wrong in a soggy fat-based "pastry".

The damage:

21.7 grams of fat
358 calories
19% beef
15% pig kidney
2% OXO gravy (mmm, gravy)
Cost: £1

Here is another look, enlarged to show (lack of) texture:

Cheers!

The Emporer's New Clothes

2009-01-04T15:42:00.008Z

Gift from my folks to the dog: Boo is seen here modeling a piece from the WOOF collection -- cream fleece with a faux fur collar. She first thought it was a toy and attacked it. It's cold here in England -- it was actually trying to snow this morning -- so she is now glad to be wearing it.

Boo then got a snowman from the wife's folks. She gutted it within 24 hours but two squeakers survived the first attack. I don't expect it to survive the week.

Cheers!

Merry Christmas From Boo!

2008-12-25T11:25:00.000Z

Bunny Beer

2008-12-22T17:00:00.000Z

We went through quite an ordeal trying to find dog food for Boo that wouldn't make her allergies worse. At one point, it was rabbit and potato-based -- which we nicknamed "bunny chow" after a vegetarian dish we had seen in South Africa. That has nothing to do with anything except the title of this blog and the weak reference to the bunnies on the new beer I tried.

This selection was picked up in a case at the Majestic Wine Warehouse and is brewed by Bath Ales (Bath is a city not too far south from here known for its Roman bath -- and high-end shopping.) These beers were all very good and each distinctive. My favorite was the "Barnstormer" -- from their website, it is "Rich in fruit with hints of chocolate, this full-bodied dark ale is a complex but deeply satisfying beer.”

Cheers!

When Butter Doesn't Cut It

2008-12-20T17:00:00.001Z

We did some more food adventuring this past week. The idea with this stuff is that you make toast, slap a thick layer of goo on top, then put it under the broiler until "bubbly". Kids, if you want to make this at home: Go buy two boxes of Kraft Macaroni and Cheese. Get one small can of deviled ham. Mix the cheese packets from the Mac with a shot of water, stir. Add half the ham. Stir. Add a splash of Worcester (woostah!) sauce. Stir, stir, stir. Done.

I have another flavor of the same product line on deck. Til then!

Cheers!

Though we eat little flesh and drink no wine, Yet let's be merry; we'll have tea and toast; Custards for supper, and an endless host Of syllabubs and jellies and mince-pies, And other such ladylike luxuries - Percy Bysshe Shelley (English Poet, 1792-1822)

Waiter, There's The Hair of a Dog in My Coffee

2008-12-19T10:40:00.004Z

Yet another selection from the holiday cream selection at the grocery. This time it is from Marks & Spencer -- not so much a grocery as it is a kind of gourmet food shop with lots of prepared foods. It's also a department store -- but the lower level in Hereford is the foodshop.

But about the cream. This one is pourable, sweetened cream flavoured with vanilla and Armagnac (a kind of brandy.) Unlike the tiny little zip that the previously mentioned cognac cream offered, this stuff is 11% booze.

We are flying out tomorrow so I tried using it up in my coffee this morning. I have a micro-buzz. Around lunch I will have a micro-hangover.

Cheers!

For Those Still Paid In Dollars

2008-12-17T18:24:00.003Z

If you haven't been there, BootsnAll is a great site for travel information. When we were planning our Africa trip, I found most of my information via either Bootsnall or Lonely Planet's Thorn Tree.

Anyway -- Bootsnall has an interesting article for these economic times: "8 Countries That Have Suddenly Become Cheap for Americans". The one blurb that stuck out to me was Iceland. The recent collapse of the Icelandic banking system was big news over here for a couple of reasons. First, a large majority think that although the UK didn't cause the failure, they swung the death blow by freezing the assets of one of the big Icelandic banks. The UK did this by invoking an anti-terrorism law. Soon after, things got much worse in Iceland. A big reason the UK froze the assets of that bank was because of the other reason this was big news here: lots of people and businesses in the UK had their money in Iceland -- and now its all but vanished.

View Larger Map

But hey, when life gives you lemons, take a much cheaper trip to Iceland! Due to the crisis, there is currently no "official" exchange rate -- so the value of the dollar is a bit iffy but no doubt a lot better than it was a year ago.

Cheers!

“People are always asking me about eskimos, but there are no eskimos in Iceland” - Bjork

They Forgot The Vodka

2008-12-17T08:30:00.000Z

Two new flavors of crisps! The parsnips were just ok. In general, I've found that if they put 'sweet chili' anything in something here, I don't like it that much. All sweet, no chili. Meh.

The Bloody Mary crisps weren't too bad. They were BBQ-flavor but with a pinch of extra heat and a whole lotta celery mojo. I guess powdered vodka is hard to come by -- my hopes for martini-flavored crisps are plummeting.

Cheers!

Castle #5

2008-12-15T11:50:00.002Z

A few weeks ago on our way to London, we made a quick stop into Windsor Castle, one of the three royal homes of the Queen. We arrived at the end of the day and the castle would be closing before long -- we decided to take make the most of it and move quickly through. Unlike all the other castles we've seen, this one is still the home of royalty and is very well maintained as both an important place for diplomatic events and for protection of the royal family.

We actually were lucky in our timing -- the Semi-State rooms are only open during the winter months and we were able to tour them as well.

A big chunk of what we saw was actually rebuilt following a fire in 1992 -- the rebuilding cost around 37 million sterling. At today's exchange rates, that's around 55 million US dollars -- to rebuild just 9,000 square meters of royal space. Even more amazing is that the project was under-budget and didn't cost tax payers a pence. When walking through, you couldn't tell the difference between old and new -- money well spent?

View Larger Map

Most of the more interesting aspects of Windsor were inside and no pictures were allowed -- if you want to see the best part you'll have to come visit us. We have year-long passes just in case you decide it's worth the trip! This website here has some OK pictures of the inside but the website is sorta ugly and it really doesn't do the place justice. You should just come see it for yourselves!

Cheers!

Four From Two

2008-12-12T09:18:00.007Z

Four good years, folks. Yesterday was the four year anniversary for the wife and I. Who would have thought then -- way back when it all started -- that we would end up living on a hedge-lined, country road in England, post code 123 BFE? Not me.

We took advantage of the occasion to find a new place for dinner. Whilst out driving about in the Volvo with the in-laws a few weeks back, we ambled past "The Bell at Skenfrith", a small inn and eatery with an upscale look to it. I checked the Michelin guide and found it had won the "Michelin 2007 Pub of the Year". That's an award not to be taken lightly.

Just across the border in Wales (yes, we went to another country for our anniversary dinner -- top that, Yankee), The Bell sits almost directly across the road from Skenfrith Castle -- one of The Three Castles mentioned in an early blog. The winding Monnow River flows along side the road here and a small one-lane (by my standards, not theirs!) bridge crosses the river at the Inn. The Bell maintains its own garden that is used extensively in the food -- they are currently working on obtaining organic status. The wine list was the best I have seen in a restaurant outside of London -- it was over 50 pages.

View Larger Map

Dinner was great from start to finish. They started by serving drinks and some amuse-bouche as soon as we arrived. The amuse-bouche were a small crostini with bit of liver pate, salt cod croquettes, and a shot glass of foamy mushroom soup. All good.

Appetizers were creative. The wife had a simple duck and duck liver terrine with onion brioche. I thought that was just ok -- the terrine was solid (strong wild flavor, though) but the brioche was very dry. Mine was the highlight of my meal. here is the full description: "Home cured lamb bresola, piquillo pepper stuffed with bulgur wheat salad, aubergine puree, green olive tapenade, rosemary oil." Yes, that's all one appetizer and it was fantastic how well each piece went with everything else. The bresola -- usually made with beef -- is a salted, air dried meat -- sorta like a prosciutto but not really. These pieces were maybe a 1/4" thick, silver-dollar size, and not overly dry. Very mild but distinct flavor. I could go on and on about the appetizer but anyway...

For mains, we shared a "talgarth beef sirloin steak with truffle scented dauphinoise potatoes, wilted kale, carrot puree, port wine sauce" and a "pan roasted loin of welsh breed pork, homemade pork scratchings, colcannon mash potato, seared black pudding, fine green beans, cider and smoked bacon cream sauce." Both were excellent. All the vegetables were just-picked fresh, and perfectly cooked. The black pudding was the best I have had here -- but it was more like a hash then a sausage. The meats were cooked just to medium-rare -- a welcome change from the well-done most restaurants serve here. The sauce on the pork was divine.

To finish, I had dessert and the wife had cheese. For cheese, you could pick three from a list. One of the picks (golden cenarth -- an organic semi-soft cow's milk cheese) was so incredibly stinky it almost ruined my dessert -- it attacked me from across the table. That was, until I tried a piece -- it tasted much better than it smelled!

My dessert pick was easy. They were offering a sampler of Christmas puddings: mini Christmas pudding, mini yule log, stollen parfait, brandy butter ice cream, and mulled wine jelly. I don't know what went into the stollen parfait: I think it was an ultra thick spiced mousse that was then wrapped like a little gift package in a thin wrapping of marzipan. Wow. The other items were good, too -- but that parfait really stood out.

Price-wise, The Bell is on the top end of prices we have seen here but worth it considering the quality of the experience. This place joins The Wellington Inn and The Stewing Pot as my three favorite restaurants in our area.

Cheers!

“To be happy with a man you must understand him a lot and love him a little. To be happy with a woman you must love her a lot and not try to understand her at all.”
Helen Rowland (English-American writer, 1876-1950)

Strange Brew: The Very Best of Cream

2008-12-10T10:04:00.004Z

I've mentioned that the cream section of the grocery here is pretty impressive. They don't fool around and the fat levels in their creams start at about where those in the US top out. Now, I've discovered that they have holiday-themed creams, too. This one is a cognac-infused (over 5% cognac -- you could get a buzz off a tub of this) double cream (48%+ fat).

I bought it out of curiosity and last night I slathered some on a brownie. It was quite a bit better than I expected. The wife wasn't impressed when the first thing out of my mouth this morning was something about how she might come home and find me and dog passed out on the floor lying next to an empty tub of cognac cream.

Cheers!

I Got All My English History From Braveheart

2008-12-09T09:09:00.005Z

Next castle on our tour was Warwick Castle. This place was oft as cheesy as Mars' Cheese Castle. They have turned it into an amusement park of sorts and the goal here is as much making cash as it is preservation of history. They have 'Kingmaker', a wax museum, that follows a snapshot of medieval times as workers prepare for war. In the upper levels of one section, they had rooms restored to royal grandeur with weapons and armor on display and more wax figures in various poses. Not surprisingly, Warwick Castle is part of the Merlin Entertainment group -- the same folks behind Madame Tussaud's famous wax museums (and also Legoland and the London Dungeon.) During the summer, they have falconry and also fire a newly-built trebuchet (giant medieval war engine -- claimed to be the largest in existence) a couple times each day.

Picasa 3 does some cool things with building collages. Click to enlarge this one:

The history of Warwick has its interesting points -- the Earls that ruled here meddled in all kinds of royal affairs. You may recall in the movie Braveheart when Edward I -- Longshanks, the bad-ass English king -- grabbed his son's (Edward II) apparent lover and threw him out the window. That was a bit of a dramatization. Longshanks didn't kill the guy -- his name was Piers Gaveston -- he was later rounded up during the reign of Edward II and brought to Warwick and executed after a trial for treason. The Warwick Castle website does a good job of summarizing the history of the place.

Again, click to enlarge. This is 20 photos stitched together using Autopano Pro:

Cheers!

Listen, lad. I built this kingdom up from nothing. When I started here, all there was was swamp. Other kings said I was daft to build a castle on a swamp, but I built it all the same, just to show 'em. It sank into the swamp. So, I built a second one. That sank into the swamp. So, I built a third one. That burned down, fell over, then sank into the swamp, but the fourth one... stayed up! And that's what you're gonna get, lad: the strongest castle in these islands. - from Monty Python and the Holy Grail

Nice Hooters!

2008-12-08T10:56:00.004Z

This weekend, we went up yonder to just outside of Kington to the Small Breeds Farm and Owl Centre. We'd heard about the place before and finally decided to go see it. It was worth the trip -- owls are some fascinating birds to watch. The other animals were entertaining as well.

View Larger Map

They have lots of owls in enclosures and then a handful in an open area where you can touch them. Most of them were very friendly (at least, they were very indifferent) and didn't mind you touching them. One was a bit of a ham and clearly enjoyed the attention while another was quite terrified of me. I really can't blame it: it was strapped to a perch and I had a camera in its face.

Here are some pictures we took. Most were taken through fencing -- you will see the fuzzy out-of-focus fence in the foreground in many of the shots.

Cheers!

The crow wished everything was black, the owl, that every thing was white.
William Blake, English visionary Mystic, Poet, Painter and Engraver (1757-1827)

Size Does Matter

2008-12-04T08:30:00.000Z

The third castle in our trip was Kenilworth Castle in Warwickshire (pronounce that worr-ick-sher), about an hour north and east of the Lilacs. Kenilworth is the largest castle ruin in all of England. It also served as a model for castle design; its defenses allowed it to survive the longest castle siege in English history -- the castle held for nearly a year against attackers. At its prime, three sides of the castle were defended by a 100 acre man-made lake. The lake prevented siege engines from getting to an effective distance and also thwarted attempts to mine under walls to weaken them.

View Larger Map

Funny thing, though, King Henry III built the castle up to be one of the strongest in the land and then gave it over to Simon de Montfort who later turned against Henry and held the castle against him. At one point, Henry's son, Prince Edward, was imprisoned in the castle before escaping. The tides again turned and in 1265 De Montfort died in battle against Edward. Edward is also known as "Longshanks" or "The Hammer of the Scots" -- you might remember him as the bad guy from the movie Braveheart. Edward is also responsible for much of how the Tower of London -- the last castle in our tour -- stands today.

Eventually, Kenilworth ended up in the hands of Robert Dudley, "the favourite" dude of Queen Elizabeth I. He turned the place into various lodgings to fit all manner of royal tastes, especially the Queen. She visited several times and the last visit in 1575 was apparently such a party that it almost bankrupt Dudley and also might be the inspiration for Shakespear's 'A Midsummer Night's Dream'.

There were two major strongholds in this region: Kenilworth Castle and Warwick Castle. During the English Civil War, Warwick was held by Parliamentarian forces and Kenilworth was held by the Crown. The Crown was on the losing end of things and Kenilworth was looted and slighted (the man-made lake was drained, too) in 1656 (10 years after Raglan Castle.) Kenilworth stands mostly in ruin, while Warwick is now a medieval theme park.

Next castle on the list is Warwick. Til then. Cheers!

Systematic Slighting

2008-12-02T11:24:00.001Z

Castle numero doo-ey was Raglan Castle and it wasn't too far a drive from the first castle on our journey, White Castle. While White Castle was falling into ruins, Raglan was becoming the castle that now stands today -- around the middle of the 15th century the building that stands partly in ruins today was being built. The castle was built during the time when bows were being replaced with cannons -- in some pictures you will see cannon holes along side arrow slits.

View Larger Map

Raglan has some interesting history to it. The future King Henry VII (Henry Tudor) spent his boyhood there when he was moved for his safety during the War of the Roses. During the English Civil War, Raglan held out until 1646 when a siege by renewed Parliamentarian forces brought about the castle's final surrender. The castle was slighted and large portions were destroyed after the siege.

Check out the plan of the castle here.

And lastly, Raglan has shown up in a couple of movies, including the Led Zeppelin movie slash rock video slash trippy fantasy adventure with bad acting, "The Song Remains The Same". It took some digging but here is the YouTube clip featuring Robert Plant's sword fight in the Raglan Great Tower. There are many pieces of this movie on YouTube -- this was part 7 that I found. If you can't stand to watch more than necessary, fast forward five minutes into the clip.

Cheers!

The Other, Other White Castle

2008-12-01T09:00:00.000Z

In this neck of the woods, White Castle actually means a castle and not a burger. Just across the Welsh border and only 15 minutes from our house, we wandered around this place last week. It is mostly in ruins and when we were there, no one was manning the gate. We had the place to ourselves except for a flock of rare blue-assed sheep.

View Larger Map

This is one of the "Three Castles" that were built in this area -- I haven't been to the other two yet. They were all built around the 12th century and fell into ruin around the 15th century. They never saw much military action but served as a line of defense for England against an unruly Welsh prince.

This was the first of six "castles" we saw last week, ranging from ruins to medieval tourist trap to the modern day home of the Queen. Til Then!

Cheers!

The superior man, when resting in safety, does not forget that danger may come. When in a state of security he does not forget the possibility of ruin. When all is orderly, he does not forget that disorder may come. Thus his person is not endangered, and his States and all their clans are preserved.
Confucius, Chinese philosopher & reformer (551 BC - 479 BC)

Castles Of Cheese

2008-11-30T12:52:00.003Z

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

2008-11-29T16:35:00.004Z

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

2008-11-21T09:00:00.001Z

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

2008-11-18T12:23:00.004Z

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

2008-11-17T12:29:00.003Z

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

2008-11-17T10:37:00.003Z

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

2008-11-13T08:39:00.006Z

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

2008-11-11T09:20:00.001Z

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

2008-11-10T16:22:00.000Z

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

2008-11-10T05:00:00.001Z

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

2008-11-09T11:30:00.010Z

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

2008-11-07T10:14:00.000Z

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)

Mary Lou Rennet

2008-10-31T10:00:00.000Z

One time, when I lived back in Chicago, I was in the Whole Foods chee-eeeeze section. They have some impressive variety and the staff is pretty knowledgeable as well. I was on a kick where I thought the best pizza would be one made from scratch. Meaning, well, you would grind your own flour, make your own pepperoni, etc. Extreme, some would say.

I had dabbled with cheese making earlier on in my culinary experiences. You can buy some curious kits online that allow you to convert a gallon of milk to a tiny little ball of cheee-eeeze. The cheese is decent and it's fun to watch milk self-destruct when a tiny little drop of "rennet" is added to it.

So, while in Whole Foods, I inquired if they had any rennet. The lady behind the counter scoffed at me,'do you know what THAT is?' Yes, I do, and I want it.

FLASHBACK: Rennet, way back in like 72000 BC, was sorta discovered when young animals were slaughtered. A calf, for example, fat on mommy's milk would be cut open and its stomach would be full of curdled milk. Some fledgling cromagnon engineer then figured out if they tossed a calf's stomach into a stone cauldron of milk, the whole damn thing would curdle. Next thing you know, they were making grilled cheese sandwiches.

Fast-forward: Now it's present day England. I'm walking through TESCO and lo and behold I see a gigantic bottle of the magic liquid for like 99 pence. This fountain of possibility lies un-tapped in the pantry. It will wait until I have figured out where I can cure sticks of pepperoni. But then, when the moos align, and I have the means to make flour from grain, the greatest pizza Herefordshire has ever seen will be pulled from the oven of the Lilacs.

Til then.

Cheers!

Love It Or Hate It

2008-10-30T20:46:00.007Z

In the altered words of Christopher Walken as THE Bruce Dickinson: "I've got a fever... and the only prescription is more Marmite."

It's true folks.

When we ambled over to England on our first 'exploratory' trip to find a place to live for eternity, we stayed at a fantastic bed and breakfast, the Somerville House in Hereford. Each morning, the convivial hosts, Bill and Rosie, prepare and serve a true English breakfast -- the likes of which I am yet to find elsewhere. They focus on local ingredients and freshness. Blood sausage, grilled tomatoes, mushrooms, poached eggs and... Marmite. There it was, sitting on the condiment plate, innocent enough in its tiny, little, brown jar. Well, the rest is bloggable history...

Now, I am a Marmite junkie. In the house, at this moment, I have Walker's (Frito Lay) Marmite flavoured crisps, Marmite breadsticks, Marmite cheese, Marmite rice cakes, and a jar of Marmite to dip all of these in because they never really do put enough Marmite in the Marmite products. It's too thick to dip a crisp directly into, so I thin it out with some Red Hot (are you listening Marmite? Spicy Marmite's time is now!) so the crisps come out just so. Slather some Marmite on a crumpet (I wish that was a joke, they really are good) with some rich Welsh butter and top it with a egg and some sharp cheese. Whew. I've blogged about that experience before but it's worth repeating. Making gravy? Add some Marmite. Having a burger? Ketchup ain't nothing next to Marmite. I just can't wait for the special edition Marmites that are released every 2000 years or so. Guiness Marmite? Champagne Marmite? Oh, the possibilities.

Cheers!

Don't Make Me Part Of The Problem

2008-10-29T10:07:00.000Z

That Explains Why A Long John Is Good For A Week

2008-10-28T21:46:00.005Z

The first thing I noticed about Bird's Custard was its striking similarity to the "custard" they stuff the donuts with back home. I love that stuff -- or is that I now loved that stuff? Now that I have the real stuff available in copious amounts, this fake custard just didn't seem right. I enjoyed it immensely. I ate lots of it. But it didn't seem right.

So I did some homework. A key difference between this and the wonderfully rich traditional custards is that this stuff is thickened with cornstarch while the real stuff is thickened with eggs. In fact, the reason for its existence is because the inventor's wife was allergic to eggs. I had always wondered why a custard-filled long john back home was still non-toxic after a few days of sitting in a cardboard box on the counter. Does the lack of eggs explain it? Perhaps.

I may keep a shelf-stable box of Bird's powder in the pantry for when I have an insatiable desire for custard. It may be crap, but it's still custard. Oh, a reference that only folks from college will understand -- you could fill a bathtub with this stuff for cheap.

Cheerios.

Donuts. Is there anything they can't do? -- Matt Groening (1954 - )

Balti-More

2008-10-28T08:24:00.000Z

We took another day trip up to Birmingham this past weekend. First, we watched the London Rollergirls spank the Birmingham Blitz Dames with a score of 274-23. Ouch.

Afterwards, we made our first trip into the Balti Triangle, an area just south of the Birmingham city center that has dozens of restaraunts specializing in Balti-style food. Balti was invented in Birmingham around 1977 -- it's similar to other "Indian" food but each dish is finished and served in a small flat-bottomed pan similar to a wok. This BBC article right here does a good job of explaining the whole scene.

We tried the restuarant "Al Frash" at the recommendation of one of our many guidebooks. I tried their house specialty, Afrodesia, a finely minced mixture of chicken and prawn in a slightly spicy ginger and garlic sauce. It was good -- but not that different than what I consider typical Indian food. The area is worth another trip to try to figure out the huge draw.

Cheers!

Hereford Booze Festival

2008-10-27T09:54:00.006Z

This past weekend in Hereford was the "Flavours of Herefordshire Food Festival", held in Hereford at the Hereford Racecourse. Over 100 vendors were on display showing off their locally produced products.

The big attraction this year was the "Hairy Bikers". I didn't know who they were but I walked close enough to them that I felt their overwhelming charisma wash over me. Not really, but I did walk by them. I haven't seen their show(s) but I will keep an eye out. They are life-long foodies slash bikers.

Overall, the festival was just ok. The main tent was too small for the crowd, so much so that we skipped more than one booth we would have otherwise tried out. The area near the first tent's entrance was a clear example of lack of understanding of people management. It was somewhere in this area a lovely, older lady identified us (must be my American flag jean jacket and constant singing of Bruce Springsteen tunes) as American and made an unsavoury comment to my wife about her "American" conduct "in line". This whole place was such a bloody mess that I heard more than one person say they were giving up and going outside so I'm not sure what was done that was uniquely American. Worse yet, many vendors also sold out of their more popular items before we got to them -- like the new winter flavors ofTyrell's Potato Crisps, including beef and horseradish. Nuts!

There is no question that the laws over here must be more lenient on the small batch production of liquor, beer, wine, and cider. About a fifth of the larger and more popular exhibits were alcohol related, including local whiskey and vodka producers. And they all had samples. Needless to say, by the time my previously-empty stomach made its way to the vendors outside selling sandwiches (we had a delicious roasted lamb baguette) and pizzas, I had a decent little freebie buzz going on. A few tastes of beer, some Celtic hootch, lime Vodka, rosehip wine, some dry cider, some sweet cider, Tyrell's vodka (of potato crisp fame), some bubbly, and so forth. The crowd didn't seem quite so bad by the time I reached the end of the tent.

Two good things came out of the event. First, I bolstered my liquor cabinet with some exciting new additions. Second, I gathered lots of pamphlets for local vendors -- many with websites and free local delivery. I expect I will soon be exploring websites about rare breed meats and getting them delivered straight to my gullet. At the top of my list is Frasers of Turnastone.

About the booze: I mentioned Monkhide in a previous post about our day trip to Ludlow. They were again selling their flavored wines, vodkas, whiskeys, and brandies. I already had a bottle of their vanilla vodka, maple whiskey, and pear brandy. We added a bottle of lime vodka and cherry brandy. The vanilla and lime vodkas are recommended to be frozen -- their alcohol content is such that they won't freeze solid but they turn to thick slush. Monkhide recommends letting them stand for a few minutes and then drinking the still icy result. I've tried it with the vanilla and it really is excellent.

I also sampled some local whiskey from a Welsh distillery, Penderyn. They had four varieties on sale -- including one that was "peated" (I think that means the malt used for the whiskey has been roasted by a source partially fueled by peat to give it an earthy flavour) and that one gentleman explained to me was there just to "appease the Scots." Ok, then. I bought a bottle of their main offering -- it really is fine stuff. Check out their website for awards and reviews, including pictures of the Prince drinking the stuff -- apparently he serves this brand at home. For you Chicago folks, it is also available at Binny's and Sam's.

Not sure if I would go next year, but the list of exhibitors and their websites is a good compilation of local resources that I will look forward to.

Cheers!

Warning: Dangerous Stereotypes Ahead

2008-10-23T10:30:00.000+01:00

I'm going to skirt the lines of a touchy subject. If you do a Google search for "English bad teeth" you will discover multiple forums of mostly British folks discussing why other people (Americans) think they have bad teeth. In general, the average person in the forum thinks that Americans have hyper-perfect teeth, to a fault, and that Americans invest too much time making teeth whiter and straighter and that Americans think the English have bad teeth because English teeth aren't as white and aren't as straight. The truth is before Austin Powers, I never even thought about it.

That said, we've lived in England for about six months now. Hardly a lifetime but enough to get an opinion: Does everyone have bad teeth? No, not even close. But I can safely say I have seen more utterly shocking grills here than anywhere else I've been in the world. I completely understand where the Mike Myer's inspiration comes from. The odd teeth I have seen may because we live out in the sticks -- in fact, I'm pretty sure that has a lot to do with it because when travelling into London and such I don't notice the same thing.

If you read some of the more informed comments in the forums and in various other sources, you get the idea that about 50 years ago there was some more serious dental problems that were prominent in the UK. That has almost entirely been rectified by various approaches like putting chemicals in the drinking water, having more and better dentists, etc. This type of thing would be slower to have an effect in rural areas and I think that is the case where we live.

I started wondering about this after reading the back of a tasty bag of pork crackles. Warnings on pork crackles, no matter how tasty they are, really aren't helping the perception. C'mon Mr. Porky, you are part of the problem. Thank god Austin Powers number 4 is in the works now... soon we will have new British stereotypes so we can forget about the teeth.

Cheers!

Bread and Honey

2008-10-22T08:36:00.005+01:00

I'm working on getting the gist of Cockney rhyming slang. It explains a few things you have heard around town. For example, "chew the fat" is rhyming slang for "have a chat". Would you "Adam and Eve It?" is slang for "Would you believe it?" One of the traditional reasons for using the slang was so that non-locals or people outside of your social circle wouldn't understand what you were talking about. This might include the police -- rhyming slang may have been the language of tea leaves -- er -- thieves.

I told my dear wife the other night that "Chuckie Cheese" was rhyming slang for "bitch, please", but I digest...

Made some more bread. My blog is so popular that people actually send me recipes now. Well, a person sent me a recipe, but it's a start. In response to previous bread blogs, one of my followers (thanks Belle!) sent me a recipe for "Cuban bread". Nice and easy -- takes about an hour from start to finish. Good for me: the impatient baker. I juiced mine up with some wheat and oat bran but followed the recipe pretty closely beyond that. Good bread -- mine was dense, not sure if that is intended (it only rises for 15 minutes) or because of the extra colon blow I added. The other loaves I made took a bit too long to be practical at any regular interval.

Cheers!

Extra Special Bestest Bitter

2008-10-21T14:05:00.007+01:00

Just going to the bar here and ordering a beer can be a challenge. They have lots of terms for things that we just don't use in the USA. It's easy enough to catch on to ordering a pint (even though its not really a pint like we know it -- its 20 imperial ounces or 4 gills or a smidge bigger than a standard American pint!) but you quickly need to figure out why the barman looks at you funny when you order a "beer". Lager or ale or bitter, please!

A brew I've tried at home a couple of times is the "Herefordshire Ale & Pork Co. Hereford Best Bitter". It's actually made by Spinning Dog Brewery right in Hereford. I have tried a few of their offerings and they have all been good. This one was recommended to eat with pork and cracklings, if I recall the back label correctly.

Bitter is a term that has basically replaced 'pale ale' in England. Bitters, or pale ales, are known for their extra hopped flavor which is often described as tasting bitter. Hops, back before refrigeration, were found to have a preserving effect on brew. More hops meant that a brew could make a longer journey on a ship, like to India. In the USA, pale ales are often called out as 'India Pale Ales' or IPA.

I figured "best bitter" meant that this was one of their premium beers -- something they were proud of and that it was bitter. I now know, after a bit of reading, that 'best' in this case indicates that the brew has a bit more alcohol in it -- between 4.2% and 4.7%. The next tier of potency is the 'extra special' bitter, commonly seen in the USA as 'ESB'. You might have noticed that the beer here is typically weaker than what is served in the USA. Pubs often serve weaker variants of the same beers you can get in the grocery.

About the bitter: it was good! Malty, nice amber color. A bit of fruit flavor. Just a small head on it.

Cheers!

The Virus, part II

2008-10-19T12:19:00.002+01:00

VIRUS UPDATE: Things are more complicated than I hoped. My full-time antivirus (BitDefender) didn't catch or find a virus, nor could Kaspersky anti-virus, Super Anti-Spyware, Symantec Security Scan, or Spybot Search and Destroy. I also have a good hardware firewall between my laptop and the Internet. If there is a virus on my PC, it is beyond the means of the majority of tools out there to find. I did some research on the message that was sent from my email and other unfortunate people have been getting hit with a very similar attack since at least December 2007. I actually received one of the bogus messages from someone else in early September. In all the forums I have read, not a single person attacked in this manner actually found a virus or malware or trojan on their PC.

So where did it come from? My current theory is that it isn't on my computer. Something stole my password or brute-force attacked my account, logged into my email, and starting sending messages. A forum at MajorGeeks says that a keylogger on a computer I used somewhere recorded everything typed into that PC and is smart enough to tell when an email address and password is typed in. Another possibility is that while I was surfing the web, a vulnerability in Java allowed a website to get my email password. The first thing I did after discovering the issue was change my email passwords -- making each even more complicated and different than the others -- so hopefully that will help prevent another outbreak.

What you should do: Change your email password! This attack has hit people using Gmail, Yahoo!, and (mostly) Hotmail. Both Mac and PC users, too. Also, if you have an email service that provides a password reset utility that uses a 'question and answer' type security check, make sure your question and answer couldn't be guessed. For example, my Hotmail account had the question, "What was the name of your first pet?' and my answer was the too-common "Snoopy". It was true, but easily guessed. No one would ever guess a family member's hometown, so I have changed it to that. If you have stronger suspicions of a virus on your PC, the guides here are very thorough (plan on taking half a day to clean your PC) but cover all the bases. If you use a password similar to your email password ANYWHERE on the web, change it. It is possible that I used the same password as my email password somewhere and that website was hacked (or wasn't legit to begin with) and they then tried it on my email.

Argh!

Sick

2008-10-17T21:31:00.002+01:00

Sorry to everyone! I have a virus somewhere and at 7:30PM on 10/17/2008 (UK time) my PC emailed everyone I had in my contacts, sent messages, received messages -- everyone! -- a message about some website for electronics. My antivirus and firewall didn't catch it... don't open any weird emails from me!

Sorry! - Keptman

Pie From Scratch

2008-10-17T13:56:00.011+01:00

We spent last weekend in London with our American guests, and dinner Friday night was a treat: St John. We had been there once before... and hope to go a few more times. It's quickly becoming one of my favorite restaurants. St John showed up in a previous blog, too.

The food on our previous visit was a notch better but I think that really comes down to food choices. This place is so diverse and ever-changing that you could go once a week and have a different experience every time you went. I could have gotten the bone marrow and parsley again, but I tried something different.

We started with some raw oysters... I mention that in hopes that I get another public service announcement posted into the comment section, like I did here. We followed that with a round of starters:

Roast Bone Marrow & Parsley Salad (a favorite!) (Cristen)
Snails and Oakleaf (fried snails and greens) (R and Pez)
Octopus, Potato, and Green Sauce (Keptman)

For mains -- Pez and I split a pie:

Pheasant & Trotter Pie, for two (Pez and me)
Skate, Courgettes (zucchini), & Saffron (R)
Roast Beef, Beetroot, & Horseradish (Cristen)
Side to share: New Potatoes and Sprout Tops

Then for dessert, with dessert wines to match:

Chocolate Cake and Creme Fraiche (Pez)
Honey Roast Figs and Toasted Brioche (Cristen)
Malt Custard & Shortbread (Keptman)
Caramel Ice Cream (R)

So about that pie: Pheasant and trotter. Trotter here means the foot of a pig. As the trotter in the pie cooks, it releases fat and gelatin that give the pie its savoury richness. This was definitely the highlight of my meal. Here are some more pie shots.

Crust with fatty juices and marrow-bone-vent protruding...

The first lovin' spoonful...oh, that's nice.

Would it be cool if I licked the bowl? No?

Good pie.

If we ever get enough people (or maybe even if we don't) together in London, they do a whole roast suckling pig for groups of 8 or more. They had one waiting in the kitchen for some lucky group. Who's in for that?!?!

Cheers!

If you want to make an apple pie from scratch, you must first create the universe.
Carl Sagan (1934-1996)

The Meat and Drink of Ludlow

2008-10-15T07:49:00.004+01:00

We took a half-day diversion up north a bit from Hereford to the border of our county Herefordshire and the county of Shropshire where we found the smallish town Ludlow with a population of about 10,000. Ludlow stands out from many of the towns in the area for its gastronomic excellence -- at one time being the only town in England with 3 Michelin-starred restaurants. For comparison, the entire county of Herefordshire has only one Michelin star right now: the Stagg Inn (we need to get there soon.) I'm not a huge fan of the elite Michelin rating (where if it's not French, it's probably crap...) but its very hard to achieve so something was cooking in Ludlow. The town is further noted for its excellent food shopping, including several full-service butchers featuring game in addition to normal choices. Funny thing, though, we didn't eat there.

We did catch the very tail end of a bi-monthly market. Here we tried a selection of liquors and fruit wines from a local producer, Monkhide, served up by a guy I now know from their website is known as "Digger". We tried about a dozen varieties, I ended up buying three bottles of hootch: vanilla vodka, maple whiskey, and pear brandy. Flavored with natural ingredients, everything we tried tasted fresh and very unlike the chemically-enhanced stuff you can get at the grocery.

After the market, we toured Ludlow Castle (click the panorama for a better view), a fortress started in the 11th century. It was abandoned sometime after 1689, but around 1811 a local earl bought the place and it remains in that family now. No one lives there now and it is open for daily entrance. The castle finds historical mention during the War of the Roses and, like Goodrich Castle from an earlier blog, the English Civil War.

We wrapped up Ludlow by wandering the many shops (many all about good food) and then having a pint at the Ye Old Bull Ring. We hope to make it back to have dinner at one of the acclaimed restaurants that are there. Til then...

Cheers!

Crisps With Warnings

2008-10-14T18:21:00.001+01:00

I'll take one for the team in my pursuit of all things spicy. I didn't even blink -- when I saw a 'limited edition' crisp that claimed to be 'EXTREMELY HOT & SPICY', well, I had to gimmesome of that. Did it matter that I really didn't have much idea what 'chicken madras' was? No. Compared to some of things I've eaten in my day, anything coming out of a crisp bag is a piece of cake. Except for some of things that come out of crisps bags in Japan.

Needless to say, I survived despite the warning. The chips are a bit tangy but not really spicy -- maybe not even Dorito levels. I would get them again, the flavor wasn't so bad but I would give them a shake or two of habanero powder to keep from being disappointed with each bite.

Madras, by the way, is a red curry heavy with chilli powder that originates from the south of India.

Cheers!

Get To A Bottle Of Stout

2008-10-14T09:00:00.001+01:00

So Pez and I took a train from Hereford to Holyhead up over in Wales, then jumped a Stena Line Ferry to Dun Laoghaire over in Ireland. The whole trip took about 6 hours but it was so easy going, time flew. The ferry was amazing... when you walk from the loading area onto the ferry it is hard to tell when land ends and boat begins. The seating is nothing like a bus or plane or train, for that matter, it is more like a floating bar with comfortable seats or booths around tables. The ferry had at least 3 bars, a Burger King, a cafeteria style restaurant, a café, a casino, a video arcade, and duty-free shopping. It also had 15ft waves on the way out and Dramamine was in order.

I didn't have much of an expectation of Dublin -- and we didn't have a ton of time either. So we focused on a couple of key sites and then re-focused on what always is most important whilst travelling: eating and drinking!

Stop 1 on our only full day was the Guinness Storehouse and Tourist Trap -- albeit a very well done tourist trap. The place is seven floors of Guinness goodness, ending with a free (sorta, it was 15 euros to get in) pint in the Gravity Bar with arguably the best view of Dublin.

Kilmainhan Gaol (Kilmanhain Jail) was a long-walk out of our way but proved to be more interesting that expected. I knew nothing about Irish history and the tales of the people that were imprisoned here are a good beginner's guide to what happened in Ireland over the last couple hundred years. In the jail, there is a museum or you can walk the halls in a guided tour.

After the long walk to the jail, we were mostly done with non-drinking related tourist attractions. We spent the rest of the evening jumping between a few bars, having more Guinness than we needed. Cheers!

An Irishman is the only man in the world who will step over the bodies of a dozen naked women to get to a bottle of stout. - Unknown

Oh Sheela

2008-10-08T09:50:00.004+01:00

If you look up Hereford in a handful of travel books, there are a few things you will see in every one. You'll find the cathedral in town, it's famous Mappa Mundi, the Chained Library, something about apple cider, and finally, just outside of town: the church in Kilpeck.

The tiny village of Kilpeck actually lies just off a main road between the Lilacs and the wife's office. I knew the church was there but we just hadn't taken the time to drive down the winding, narrow country lane that leads into the village. This past week, we had some guests in town and finally made the trip.

The church, officially St. Mary and St. David's Church, is a phenomenal example of Norman architecture and also a great example of finding something amazing where you'd least expect it. Built around 1140, the small, quaint church stands in close to its original form. Much of the wonder of the church centers around the multitude of carvings that ring the doors and roof of the church, especially the Sheela Na Gig. But ... wait a minute ... it's not just any Sheela Na Gig, it's possibly the most important and most famous Sheela Na Gig of all.

Yes, I had to look it up too -- even after I saw the carving I didn't know what it meant. A Sheela Na Gig is a "carving of a woman with exposed and/or exaggerated genitalia, usually found on religious buildings". There are bunches of theories about what exactly these statues/carvings meant and how a symbol that could be considered extremely vulgar and might have ties to pagan religion would end up on Christian churches all over the place. One of the most accepted theories is that it is a warning against lust -- and that back in the day an image like this would have been more acceptable than our now much more prudish ways. Other theories are that it is a good luck symbol (flashing your lady bits back in the day was considered a way to wish good luck!) or a symbol to protect from evil (the devil doesn't like the look of lady bits.)

Either way, its quite shocking to see something like this on a church of all places. Some of the other carvings, while not as controversial, are quite interesting too, like a comical dog and hare montage, green men (another symbol with possible pagan origins), upside down stags, and many more.

This little place was one of my favorite things I have seen so far in England. Mysterious, beautiful, eerily quiet ... walking around it you felt a sense of a time long forgotten, long before blogs and the Internet made understanding the world a supposedly easier task.

I can't take credit for all the pictures here. The wife took my camera and hogged it for half our visit.

Gone Country

2008-10-07T09:02:00.003+01:00

In a restaurant, I think one of the best indicators that a good meal is about to be served is when the bread they bring out before hand is fresh, handmade, and can't-stop-eating-it good. I'd tried my hand at baking bread before but I always ended up with crap: dry, bland, hard as a rock, and just not good.

But to complete my transition to a true country-living, land-loving Kept Man, I need to add some additional domestic tasks to my repertoire. Fresh baked bread every day? Maybe...

In the past few weeks, I've renewed the effort to make some good bread -- and we finally had some success. The first batch I made was 'country hearth bread' (or my interpretation of it) and was a mix of white bread flour and wheat bran with a touch of honey. I didn't quite have all the ingredients for the recipe I was loosely following but my improvisations seemed to work out.

We had this with cream of mushroom soup made from four different kinds of fungus from the store here, topped with some truffle oil we brought back from Rome. The bread was perfect with the soup and we had to fight over the leftovers.

Last week, I made some 'quick' ciabatta. It was good but I skipped about four hours of steps (I really don't have the patience for baking.) I'd show pictures of that one but it some how ended up looking like a, uh, male fertility symbol. Naughty bread, it was.

Stagg Party or An Ode To Tommy Seebach

2008-10-06T14:00:00.000+01:00

Had some chili here the other night, straight out of a tin can. The wife was off in London or some other exotic locale and here I was sitting in the shire without too much going on in the pantry. Except for a lonely can of Stagg Chili, Dynamite Hot flavor chocked full of minced beef that was shaped into... minced beef? I expect nothing more from Hormel.

I have a thing for spicy food and often eat it without much regard for the morning after. I also had my doubts that anything labelled spicy in England (Indian restaurants aside) is actually spicier than a Taco flavored Dorito. Happily, the Stagg surprised me with a nice burning euphoria. But why stop there when you have a dwarf apache (did someone say Apache? Tommy Seebach!) chili pepper plant producing dozens of little firecrackers?

The end result was a bowl of Stagg Chili, covered in some Turkish cheese, a pile of onions, some double cream, and finally, a healthy sprinkling of dwarf apaches. Well, I guess that wasn't really the end result since that came about 6 hours later. Use your imagination.

And you just can't say 'apache' without sharing some Seebach.

Roaring Meg, Now That Was A Fun Girl

2008-10-05T20:53:00.007+01:00

Just a stone's throw from the Lilacs here lies Goodrich Castle, a Norman-built fortress that still stands in reasonable quality. Goodrich was built around the 11th century and held control over a crossing point of the River Wye (that's the big river that runs through Hereford and the namesake of our Wye Valley.)

I was ignorant of the fact that England had a civil war, too. The war (actually several wars for basically the same reason) were armed conflicts between folks who supported the role of the crown as the ruler vs. those who wanted parliament to be in control. Not too long ago (it's all relative): the wars happened around the year 1650. Goodrich Castle was the site of a somewhat famous siege during that war, and Roaring Meg was a massive cannon that was brought in to bring the castle down. I'm guessing there is a really good, long-forgotten story about some lassie named 'Meg' that would have been worth writing down. Just a few years ago, Meg was brought back to Goodrich and sits on display in its main courtyard.

Lost In Space

2008-10-05T20:46:00.003+01:00

The blog has fallen off track again. Sorry for the daily readers out there. Work and playing host to our first guests in England has taken priority, not to mention a road trip (because rail and ferry trip sounds dirty) to Dublin and a tour of some of the sites in our own shire here. Coming up this week:

Goodrich Castle -- Not just a pile of rocks and a good story.
Kilpeck Church -- 800 years old and virtually untouched by time.
Dublin!
Stagg Dynamite Chili with Extra Apache Peppers
Crisp Review: This one had a warning on the bag.
And more!

What We've Got Here Is... Failure To Communicate

2008-09-25T20:31:00.001+01:00

In response to a previous rant, I got some feedback that service wasn't really that bad here. Humph! Pffffftt!

The wife and I were trying to resolve why every month our Sky (satellite) TV bill was getting more expensive. We just noticed this problem since most companies here bill quarterly instead of monthly and even though Sky says they recently sent some bills, I haven't seen them. Oh, silly me -- here's an update: Sky's bills come through your TV... like a poltergeist...except that the phone line the installers put in was crimped too hard at one point and split the wires leading to the box. No phone line, no bill.

Anyhoo, I called Sky to find out we somehow were signed up on their phone service. We had already signed up for BT's service with a slick international plan that we thought we had been using to its fullest. Instead, Sky had somehow intercepted those calls and charged us. Charged us lots. Of quids.

BT is almost the shining star this time around. They have no records of the switch to Sky service and they were aware that we were on their good international plan. But they can't help me with Sky. I now have to send our bills from BT to Sky showing that both companies have been providing phone service to the same phone line -- and both have been charging us. I hope that they will take pity on us, the poor souls who have wandered in to a land that one phone tech claimed was 'technically impossible'.

I now have about four hours invested in phone calls, looking through records, and now putting together a letter and copies of bills to send to Sky for consideration of a refund. I'm convinced it could only happen here or maybe in that country Borat is from.

WARNING! Don't play the following clip with speakers on where any one offended by f-bombs is nearby. It's worse than Gordon Ramsey. You've been warned! DO YOU COMPREHEND???

But, Yes, We Have No Salisbury Steak

2008-09-24T09:32:00.008+01:00

This past weekend we did a very quick run through Bath, England then stayed the night in Salisbury. Our host in Salisbury gave us a condensed history of the town and told us about Old Sarum. Sarum, the old one, was the first settlement that was near present day Salisbury.

Present day Sarum (now Salisbury), was established when the top of the hilltop establishment became too small for both church and castle. The clergy moved out and established a new cathedral (picture top left) about two miles south and this became the Salisbury that still stands. Legend has it that the Bishop of Old Sarum shot an arrow from the hilltop, declaring that where it landed is where they would build the new cathedral. The arrow struck a deer and the deer ran and died on the new site miles away.

The Salisbury Cathedral features the tallest spire (404 ft) of all churches in the United Kingdom. Modern engineering has been added to the structure to keep it from collapsing under its own weight. This year marks the 750th anniversary of its consecration in the year 1258.

On our host's tip, we decided to take a quick pass by Old Sarum Castle -- or what's left of it. Like Stonehenge, this place is also bordering on ancient. There is evidence that people lived here over 3000 years ago. It also shows up on Roman maps of the area as Sorviodunum. The pictures don't show much -- you really had to use your imagination to see the castle as it once was but walking over a moat can help get you in the right frame of mind.

For reasons we discerned later, Boo loved this place. She ran here and there in quite a spirited fashion and liked to pop up and look over the broken down walls. On our way out, I noticed that the place was posted for guard dogs that roamed the grounds at night -- this place was dog scent Nirvana.

Cheers!

I Like That Word, "Quid"

2008-09-22T21:24:00.003+01:00

Over here, I get to say 'quid' when I'm talking with my mates about how expensive that new pub is over on the high street. A pint of bitter for 5 quid? That's shite, mate. Quid, I like it. It works for me. I also like 'pence'. I like to wriggle my fingers and then say, "ninety-nine pence" in a very, slow and annunciated way -- drag out the ssssss. Try it, you'll like it. Nine-ty-niiiiine penssssse. Makes me tingle.

Ancient Dominoes

2008-09-21T21:10:00.010+01:00

We took the Volvo out this weekend for a quick road trip. Saturday, we ambled through Bath then on to Salisbury for the night. From there, we hit an old castle and then Stonehenge before getting back home Sunday evening.

Here is the basic gist of Stonehenge: It's really freakin' old (5000 years or so), it's built in the middle of a huge open plain, and the stones are as heavy as 50 tonnes each. They really don't know for certain what it was used for -- there are lots of opinions -- but since it was built before any reasonably sort of written history, it's really anyone's best guess. It was definitely a religious site, and people were definitely buried or cremated there -- but who or what was worshipped here is a bit of a mystery.

They have found ways, using methods that would have been available in ancient times, to move, shape, and position stones that big - but some think it would have taken 500 men working in tandem to get each stone to the site and then put them in place. The smaller stones (4 tonnes each) likely travelled a route 240 miles long , while the bigger stones came from about 25 miles away.

These days, the site is associated with the fantasy-novel type Druids: guys wearing KKK robes and worshipping trees and such. This is a notion that seems to be mostly nonsense since the real Druidic ideas didn't come about until long after the stones were put in place. That doesn't stop an occasional Druid wannabe from showing up and tossing some magick around. Hey, nice staff.

Cheers!

Boozapest

2008-09-19T11:08:00.006+01:00

Hungary has some long standing traditions in their liquors. One of them, Unicum by Zwack, is on sale literally on every corner - I think it's as much a tourist thing as it is tradition. The formula that goes into it is very secret and I read somewhere that only a few members of the immediate Zwack family have access to it, in addition to a bishop somewhere who is sworn to secrecy. The taste is intense -- think herbal cough drop mixed with Jagermeister. Try their website. It's all in Hungarian which makes eventually getting some message popup with a cartoon bottle of Unicum next to a revolver all the more interesting.

The next one is Pálinka, a traditional type of Hungarian lighter fluid, er, I mean, brandy. At a small grocer, the wife and I were treated to a taste test of several flavors of the stuff. I tried plum, apple, and what the serving lady called 'gypsy cherry'. They all burn on the way down and the flavor is the after-taste. I bought a bottle of the cherry flavor, but plum was very good as well. My lady friend thinks they all taste like fire.

Cheers!

The First Way of Telling the Truth

2008-09-18T08:04:00.008+01:00

I think I have a penchant for gloomy art. In high school, it was Albrecht Dürer's Knight, Death, and the Devil. Then there's Picasso's Guernica. Recently there was the guy in Rome who was burned at the stake and now stares eternally at the Vatican. And now there is Anonymous.

This statue sits behind Vajdahundyad Castle in the Városliget ("City Park"), Budapest. It was created in 1903 by a Hungarian, Miklós Legeti and is well-known as one of Budapest's favorite works of art. The statue is of a historian of a king of Hungary that almost nothing was known about except that he was an important contributor to the written history of the country. The statue was designed to hide everything except what was known about the man. His face is hidden, but he is in a contemplative stance with pen and paper in hand.

Cheers! (or cheer up?)

There are only two ways of telling the complete truth--anonymously and posthumously.
-- Thomas Sowell (1930 - ?)

The Price Is Wrong, Bob

2008-09-18T08:04:00.007+01:00

Ok, this might be a new favorite flight search engine. Over here, we have a few bargain airlines (RyanAir, Sterling, bmibaby) that have some unbelievably cheap flights. Often they are from odd airports (London Luton? Where the hell is that?!) or have very limited cities you can fly between. Combining these flights with a major carrier route isn't easy -- until now. SkyScanner will combine major carrier flights with bargain airline routes to find some deals that you otherwise might miss. There are lots of little things to think about when taking a bargain airline - like extra baggage charges -- but this site will be helpful for getting ideas.

http://www.skyscanner.net/

Something Is Rotten

2008-09-17T02:00:00.001+01:00

We had high hopes for our English garden but time and shite weather wore us down.

The horseradish plant was gigantic and we expected to find one big root like a human leg underneath it. Instead we found some skinny toes. Nevertheless, it has some kick and has found good use.

The tomatoes are all but a complete loss. Whilst I was away in Oregon, the plants attacked each other in a smothering war. By the time we broke it up, rot had set in and the weather went to hell. We might get one or two but almost all have went very funky. The eggplant and peppers we had near the tomatoes appear to be following a similar course and have started to go bad.

The potted Dwarf Apache (is that doubly offensive?) pepper plant has been a surprise. It has produced a very bright and red selection of peppers that vary from tame and tangy to some that are sure to provide a solid case of the ol' HH. Trust me on this.

Another surprise has been the zucchini (courgette over here) and pumpkin plant. One of each plant has grown to impressive size and we have more zucchini than we know what to do with. The pumpkins are still green babies but doing fine.

We recently found out we have what we think is a yucca plant growing in the yard. This was one of our least favorite plants: it has leaves like spears that destroy Boo's balls on a regular basis and can do some damage if you get too close. That was until it has popped out what appear to be some impressive flowers waiting to do their thing.

So, any way, I mentioned my Dwarf Apache peppers up top and I just can't think the word 'Apache' without having to watch a Tommy Seebach video. You never know where a blog is going to end up. If you have never seen the original, you should find it and watch it in full. Here it is folks: Tommy Seebach's Apache attacked by Disturbed. This is what happens when you drink and blog.

He Ain't Heavy

2008-09-15T19:00:00.002+01:00

More than once, when talking to some random person here about the difference between life in the USA versus life in England, a phrase like 'whatever we have England, you have it bigger in the USA' is almost assuredly going to come up. There is good basis for that argument but this past week, I further explored one area where the English have the Americans beat: cream.

I mentioned the cream section when I was discussing the custard section at the market. This past week, I had the wife pick me up some cream -- I wasn't very specific about what kind but I think I guessed at 'single cream' and even then I wasn't all that sure what single cream was. I needed it to mix with the fresh horseradish root (awesome) we had just pulled out of our quickly rotting garden (too much rain!) to serve with the beef joint that was marinating in the fridge.

The wife returned with double cream. Again, I wasn't really sure what it was. I popped it open and gazed in amazement. This stuff was thick. Thicker than cool whip, thicker than mayo, thicker than sour cream. It was somewhere between mallo-whip and butter. When I drink milk, I drink skim. But I love cream -- I could drink a quart of half and half as easy as the quart of custard. Ever drank a Dutch Whistle? It's no secret its addictive powers are based on fat globules. A spoonful of this double cream was heavenly.

I broke out the bible of food knowledge, On Food And Cooking by Harold McGee, and found a very handy chart for comparing U.S. and Europe terms for cream. The facts made my arteries stiffen momentarily.

(USA) Half and Half 12% fat
(Europe) Single Cream 18% fat
(USA) Whipping Cream 35% fat
(USA) Heavy Whipping Cream 38% fat
(Europe) Double Cream 48% fat
(Europe) Clotted Cream 55% fat
(Europe) Plastic Cream 65-85% fat

Plastic cream? I tried to find out more about this stuff -- it has the same fat content and consistency as butter but unlike butter which is water suspended in fat, its still fat suspended in water like its cream brethren. I don't know if anyone actually uses this stuff at home; I think it has more uses in large scale manufacturing, such as for making ice cream and car seats.

Cheers!

Gentleman, The Lunchbox Has Landed

2008-09-15T07:02:00.000+01:00

You might remember a previous blog about a not-so-delicious product we tried here called "The Big BBQ." Through a reader comment, I became aware of another product in the same misguided line of food products: "The Full Monty." The next time we were at the store, it found its way into the cart.

Where "The Big BBQ" just had lots of varieties of chopped and formed meat lumps, the Full Monty has just a bit less meat variety and the addition of potatoes. The potatoes were the highlight; the meat is still disgusting.

Once, when the wife and I were in Japan staying at a traditional sleep-on-a-bamboo-floor hotel, we had some intensely Japanese food. One of the items on our plates was a whole grilled fish about the size of, say, a Heath bar. At the direction of the serving lady (she made a vicious chomping motion with her teeth with an imaginary fish held to her mouth), you were supposed to eat the whole fish, head and all. I bit into that head with a bit of reservation, black juice squirted out from it, and I proceeded to chew and swallow what was undoubtedly the nastiest thing I had ever eaten. The hot dogs in The Fully Monty were on par with this memory.

This is the end of my experimentation with the Hunger Break products. Who eats this stuff, I don't know.

[The team recruits Guy]

Gaz: You don't sing?

Guy: No.

Gaz: You don't dance?

Guy: No.

Gaz: Don't mind me asking, but what do you do?

Guy: I do this...[strips down pants and underwear]

Gaz: [coughs smoke, then long pause] Gentlemen, the lunchbox has landed.

-- The Full Monty (1997)

Paris of the East

2008-09-14T09:16:00.003+01:00

Mama, That Wasn't Goulash

2008-09-12T10:00:00.000+01:00

Growing up we used to have this stuff for dinner and we called it goulash. Saute some onions, brown some ground beef, pour in ma's homemade tomato juice and then finish it with macaroni. I'm not complaining -- that was classic, tasty, comfort food. But it ain't goulash.

At the restaurant Bagolyvár (literally, Owl's Castle) in Budapest we had a quick bite before hitting the Budapest Zoo and the Museum of Fine Arts. I had the gulyásleves. Gulyás (goo-yash) is where the word we know, goulash, originates from. The word itself means something like herdsman - back in the day this was their food. Leves is the Hungarian word for soup. The goulash soup I had was a thin stew with slow cooked cubes of meat, diced carrots and potatoes, in a beef stock laden with sweet paprika. No pasta, no ground meat.

At the same place, R had pörkölt, another Hungarian dish that is simply chunks of meat (we had both pork and veal varieties) in a rich sauce with paprika, onions, green peppers, and tomatoes -- or whatever the chef wanted to put in. The sauce is thick but smooth; everything but the meat is cooked down. This is then served with dumplings or pasta.

The American dish called goulash lies somewhere between these two dishes but optimized for time by using quick-cooking beef and macaroni. Unfortunately paprika -- at least of the caliber you get in Hungary -- is notably absent.

One of my favorite things in Hungary was the little dish of hot pepper paste they would bring you to give your soup or stew a little kick. They call it Eros P ista, which literally means "Strong Steve". It's spicy hot and very salty - but addicting. It is more than just heat. My gulyásleves went from good to great with just a small spoonful. At the restaurant in our hotel, I proved my new-found love by using the entire dish of the stuff. My reward was my own jar of Strong Steve right from the kitchen's pantry -- a testament to the very friendly attitude we found in Budapest.

Cheers!

The Dangers of Getting Out of the House

2008-09-11T11:12:00.008+01:00

My trip back from Hungary was a not-so-ideal day of travel. For the first time in my life, my name was called over the intercom in an airport. I was waiting with the wife at her gate since my flight was scheduled (pronounced shedgewooled) to leave (due to a delay) thirty minutes after hers. This prompted a run to my gate where I was very quickly handed some "flight interruption" forms and then escorted through another passport control point and then put on a different flight. Now, instead of Zurich -- where I had no chance of making it home from -- I was heading to Paris -- I wasn't even sure what airline I was flying or what my next flight was. My logic was that Paris has a lot more flights than Zurich to get me home.

At Paris, after bouncing between five different counters -- first Swiss Air, then information, then three different Air France counters (at every one, they had to call a manager over to help), I finally received a ticket on a new flight back to Birmingham. The flight I was intended to catch in Paris was already closing its doors by the time I figured out what was going on; there was no chance I was going to make it. My new ticket had me leaving Paris about 4 hours after I was supposed to be landing in England. Argh.

Once I landed in Birmingham, I cleared passport control and I was waiting for my bag to come out. For the second time in one day, my name was called out -- not over the intercom but by the guy behind me. Creepy. He was there to fill out the paperwork because my luggage was still in Paris. Not a big surprise, that. How he knew it was me, I still don't know.

I made my way to the train station to get back to Hereford, arriving at the platform just in time to watch my train pull away. Argh, again. Next train was an hour later.

But, in the end, I made it home and Boo was fine since her sitter had stayed until my arrival. The baggage guys just called to figure out where the Laracks was at and we cleared up that I actually live at the Lilacs. My bag, and my Hungarian booty -- including some of the best "hot sauce" I have ever had -- should be here this afternoon.

UPDATE: The baggage folks arrived but the tiny little nothing they tried to pass off as my giant roller bag didn't work. Its 10PM now and the call I was expecting to explain where my bag really was never came. Uh oh. Someone scrumped my booty.

UPDATE: Finally, late Saturday, my bag made it home. My booty was in tact -- except for a missing bottle of wine... hmmm.

Cheers!

Run For The Hill

2008-09-10T21:37:00.014+01:00

Whilst in Budapest, we made a spur of the moment decision to take a run to the top of Gellért Hill, a large mound sitting right next to the Danube. The highest point in Budapest, the hill is named after a bishop, Saint Gerard, who had a run in about 1000 years ago with some pagans that stuffed him in a barrel and threw him down the hill. This is a large eight-photo panorama of Buda and Pest (pronounced 'pesht'), the two cities that now are one, taken from the hill. In this picture, Buda is on the left, and Pest is on the right of the river. Double-click to get a better view. Our hotel is near the right hand side of the bridge you can see in the middle of the shot.

There is a monument to Gellért on the side of the hill. It is visible from much of the city and portrays Gellért with a cross in one hand that is out-stretched towards the city. A pagan begs for salvation at his feet. A natural spring feeds a waterfall that forms the backdrop of the site.

The top of the hill now houses a hotel, restaurants, and more than enough tourist trap vendors and attractions -- most of which is inside the Citadella. The Citadel was a fortress built using forced Hungarian labor by the ruling Austrians to intimidate the city below. They kept cannons pointed at the city in case the locals ever revolted. It later served as a Soviet military post during WWII, from which the Soviets could fire into the city.

We ate lunch on top, in the aptly named Citadel Restaurant. I think we may have been the only customers but the food was very good if only a bit expensive. I had veal paprika (braised veal in a savoury paprika sauce) with small dumplings (like German spaetzle) that were tossed with egg (2). The missus had veal tenderloin with a sour cream-based dill and caper sauce (2) -- garlic mashed potatoes on the side. Like a lot of the main courses here, it was all very filling! From here, we decided to walk all the way down and then up the next hill over, Castle Hill (in the wide shot up top, you can see Castle Hill -- it holds the giant buildings middle left), to burn off some of the lunch. Whew.

Cheers!

Notes From A Zoo

2008-09-10T13:09:00.006+01:00

No blogs since last Thursday? Sorry kids, I was more or less on holiday. But this carefree post is courtesy of the animals of the Budapest Zoo.

Here is the quick background of this picture. This pen was full of a weird but fun assortment of animals. The mutant jackrabbits were fighting over a loaf of bread. Jackrabbit Bob kept it real when Jackrabbit Neal tried to take too much bread. Note that attack stream from Bob hurtling towards Neal. "Take that, wanker!" says Bob. "Ewwwww" says Neal. I don't get why Neal wasn't similarly equipped to fight back.

The groundhogs at the zoo weren't shy and had quite a party going on. There was a buffet in the middle of the dirt field, lots of shady lounge holes, and then there was Chip, the extra friendly groundhog. You can't see the wife, but that groundhog paw is held longingly against the glass in her direction.

Separation of beast and man isn't so important in some countries. This little monkey-thing was very cute and basically running free inside a large enclosure that you walked through. And it was freaked out. This shot is of the little dude letting out blood-curdling screeches because a horde of tourists was chasing him with their cameras.

One of the few cages marked with a sticker indicating 'dangerous animal' contained a small pack of arctic wolves. This one had no fear of humans and I think was waiting for one of these camera-phone wielding idiots to come just a bit closer. That fence you can see was the only thing between man-fingers and beast.

That's all for now... Cheers!

Smack My Ass and Call Me Augustus Gloop

2008-09-04T08:00:00.003+01:00

I thought this sign had the name of the shop on it, but my French ain't that good yet. What this sign says is that someone at this shop was awarded a very prestigous honor: they were named a Meilleur Ouvrier de France (literally, 'Best Worker of France'.) Competitions for this award are held every three years and the awards vary from wood-working to chocolate-making. Once achieved, the honor is held for life. Many spend months preparing a piece of work that demonstrates both artisitic excellence and mastery of their craft. Patrick Roger is both the name of the store and the master sculptor/chocolatier/artist that started it all. The website is a graphical showpiece worth checking out.

We just stumbled upon this place by chance but we were drawn in by the fact that about a third of the store is dedicated to a not-for-sale chocolate sculpture: a rolling cocoa desert with chocolate stack mesas rising up out of it. The cool visual with the sheer volume of cocoa you could breath in made for a heavenly display.

They sold stuff, too. An endless array of chocolates in exotic flavors, various candies in bright colors, and relatively plain bars of chocolate from all over the world. Eye-candy and belly-candy, both at once.

We grabbed some chocolates with exotic flavors like sezchuan pepper, sesame, lemongrass, and lime. We have shown impressive restraint in that they aren't all gone yet!

Cheers!

The Odius Column

2008-09-03T08:22:00.002+01:00

Once called an eye sore but now the most visited paid tourist attraction in the world, La Tour Eiffel is a sight to see. Our hotel had a view of it, but from our room we could only see the reflection of the lights. Luckily, right around the corner was a lounge with open-air balcony and a great view. Photos from here and walking around Paris are in the slideshow.

“And during twenty years we shall see, stretching over the entire city, still thrilling with the genius of so many centuries, we shall see stretching out like a black blot the odious shadow of the odious column built up of riveted iron plates.”

Signers of the letter this quote is taken from included Messonier, Gounod, Garnier, Gerome, Bougeureau, and Dumas.

Chrome, Boom!

2008-09-02T21:51:00.010+01:00

From out of nowhere, Google released Chrome today, Google's own web browser. It redefines the way your PC interacts with the web and a lot of what Google is saying just makes sense. It doesn't look all that different from, say, Firefox and I think it will take some time to see its benefits over whatever you are using now. Either way, if its on par with Google Maps, Google Earth, Gmail, etc. then a techie revolution may be just around the corner.

Get it here... it's free:
http://www.google.com/chrome

One of these days, milkshake, BOOM!
- The Evil Midnight Bomber What Bombs at Midnight

Freedom Frites And That Older Woman

2008-09-02T10:00:00.000+01:00

Ah, the food of France! But I suppose I should just say the food of Paris since I am yet to go anywhere else...

Ah, the food of Paris! Rich, savory... full of things like butter, cream, bacon, and sumptuous cheeses... everything is a feast. Even the simple places serve classic, delicious food. Any diet I perceive myself to be on must be forgotten for a few days whilst dining in Paris.

So here we have it, a long list of camera phone pictures of everything we ate, mostly arrange from left to right, top to bottom -- at least on my screen. Click on the picture for a closer look.

A leek and cheese tart (they didn't call it a quiche!) with fries. This was at our first stop and was a great start. Cold beer to drink -- a Belgian Leffe blonde. It was a hot day in Paris and this hit the spot.
At the same spot, a plate of charcuterie with paté, rillet, dried sausage, boiled ham, and dried ham.
A giant, spicy steak tartar. Yep, that's a big ol' pile of raw chopped steak mixed with some onions, spices, and large capers. Fries on the side, of course.
Escargot á la Bourguignonne (snails in a garlic, shallot, and parsley sauce) -- excellent! This was at a place near our hotel, Le Suffren, that was recommended by the concierge. Excellent value for the quality of the food.
Plate of raw oysters and boiled prawns - these were some of the best oysters I've had.
Profiteroles - a dessert made from choux pastry (an amazing kitchen creation), filled with ice cream, and topped with a rich, chocolate syrup.
The house cheese platter to share.
Omelette de Campagne (country omelet with bacon, cheese, onions, and potatoes) -- served with a side salad to make a very filling lunch.
The wife's salad - I don't remember what they called it but it was full of potatoes and dried ham.
Boeuf Bourguignonne, a classic French beef stew.

We didn't eat a bad bite through the entire trip! I need to go eat something now.

Cheers!

"Every city has a sex and an age which have nothing to do with demography. Rome is feminine. So is Odessa. London is a teenager, an urchin, and, in this, hasn’t changed since the time of Dickens. Paris, I believe, is a man in his twenties in love with an older woman."
John Berger, an English painter and novelist.

Fungus Among Us

2008-09-01T09:23:00.012+01:00

All of the downsides of our life in England can be quickly forgotten because of one little thing: it's so easy to get out of town! Friday night, I picked up the wife from work and by 10, we were cruising through Paris. Nice. We had a quick, but fun, two days in La Ville-lumière.

As always, the trip was mostly about food, both eating at the restaurants and getting booty to bring back to England. Last time I was in Paris, we had bought a black truffle from Fauchon, a gourmet food store. Truffles are notoriously expensive but we splurged. Back in Chicago, we did what we thought we were supposed to do: we packed the truffle in dry, white rice and put it in the fridge. The idea is that the rice absorbs moisture from the truffle and its environs and keeps it from spoiling, while at the same time the rice becomes uber-infused with truffle essence. Win, win... or not? What we had been misinformed on is how long this truffle would keep. We wanted to make it last but instead it ended up spoiling. Argh.

Whilst ambling down a Paris side street, we came across a small shop and restaurant, Maison de la Truffe (The House of the Truffle). This place was incredible: bowls of fresh truffles, a wall of truffle infused oils, and a restaurant where truffles take center stage. We didn't stay for a meal (we hope to go back) but once again we are now proud owners of our very own fresh, black truffle. This time, though, we knew we had to do our homework.

I did some research and found various sources that had a handful of similar but varying ideas on what to do with our truffle.

Here is what I did: I scrubbed the truffle with some port wine we had on hand (brandy was recommended but port was suggested as an alternative) to kill any funk on the outside of the thing. I let it dry, then cut it into three chunks. I picked two clear, solid Pyrex dishes with tight lids and sterilized them with boiling water. In the first dish went some chopped truffle and about a half cup of melted butter. This will stay in the fridge and should last as long as butter will . In dish two went larger chunks of truffle submerged completely in good olive oil. This goes into the freezer and can keep well for up to a year or so. Lastly, the final chunk for eating in the next two weeks went into rice in a seal jar.

The smell of the kitchen while chopping truffles is an experience to savor. I truly hope these preservation methods are successful -- with any luck some of you might get to sample one of the world's foremost culinary delights, too.

Cheers!

Do Not Inquire Why Or Whither

2008-08-28T22:46:00.009+01:00

Boo Jones turned 4 years old today!

She may not appreciate the holiday as much as us, but she knows a good soft-serve when she sees it. I have to agree with the wife: Boo is probably the best gift-receiver I have ever seen, whether it be an ice cream cone, a strawberry, or a long-distance toy from her canine friends back home (pre-chewed, of course.) Her ears flip back, her eyes go wide, and she goes completely into the moment.

Boo had to take a break after her ice cream indulgence, but just before sunset, she got a late night round of futball -- or whatever she calls it. Whatever it is, she lives to play with this ball so it was a fitting end to her b-day.

With the new Nike ball, Boo is hoping for a sponsorship. Nike, are you listening?

My advice to you is not to in quire why or whither, but just enjoy your ice crea m while it's on your plate.

Thornton Wilder (1897 - 1975)

A Pint of Scrumpy

2008-08-28T07:02:00.003+01:00

I think I've mentioned that they take their cider seriously here and that cider only means the hard stuff. Everything else is just apple juice.

I started noticing another variety on the store shelves and I needed to figure out what it was all about. "Scrumpy" is a traditional type of cider made mainly in our Herefordshire area and in the south of England. It is made from whole apples instead of apple juice, is non-filtered, unpasteurised, non-carbonated, and doesn't have any sugar added. Very unlike the ciders most people know.

According to a BBC article, a scrimp is a small withered apple and to scrump means to steal someone's apples. I didn't know it, but I think scrump has been missing from my vernacular. Dude, did you scrump my burrito?

But how do you pick your scrumpy? Many of the bottles are intentionally designed to look extra rural: clay pots, rustic-looking paper labels, and so forth. We tried what looked to be a safe first attempt at having some scrumpy, Jack Ratt Scrumpy Cider in a nice, clean-looking bottle. This stuff is very light, easy to drink. Not sweet at all and was refreshing on ice. You wouldn't know it was 6% alcohol.

We've heard, though, about some of the more authentic scrumpys that get cloudier, thicker, and much more potent at around 15% alcohol. This is the kind made out behind the shed with a barrel, some apples, and a hickory stick. We had dinner with some work folks the other night and they gave us a tip on where to get it. I'll let you know how the scrumpy hunt progresses.

Cheers!

In The Bush

2008-08-27T08:37:00.005+01:00

Are these pigeons? Doves? Whatever. I'm not sure how much bigger these freaks of nature plan to get, but they have taken over the upper realms of multiple trees in our garden. Boo desperately wishes she could fly -- they taunt her from their perch. She has, however, done a good job of letting these monsters know that touching terra firma is a bad idea. The wife wants to go 'Tony Soprano' on these things.

I'm Against a Homogenized Society

2008-08-26T13:14:00.007+01:00

I know I have weaknesses. And when it comes to donuts, me and Homer Simpson have a lot in common. Fortunately for my arteries, you don't see too many donuts in this part of the world. The cake-donut lady in the town square on weekends does an OK job but to me, cake donuts are somewhere towards the bottom of the donut heap. Amateur stuff, really.

The top donut on my donut list, without question, is the custard-filled, chocolate-iced long john - and not one of these 'filled' donuts that you can get halfway through and still not be sure that it's actually stuffed. Before you finish the first bite, you should be having trouble controlling the custard. One (two?) of these and some hot coffee... whew... that's a good start to any day.

I'm pretty sure, then, my love of custard may be somehow related to that donut. Unlike the donuts, England has pretty much got all the bases covered when it comes to custard. There is a custard section at the grocer -- next to the extensive cream section -- and every store even has its own store-branded custard. And I aim to try them all. So far, I've tried the Sainsbury, Tesco, and ASDA store brands. I made a critical mistake on the ASDA purchase: I got 'light' variety that was low fat and artificially sweetened. In a lot of cases, I'm fine with that -- but custard is basically fat and sugar held together by egg yolks so it just doesn't work here. The current winner is Tesco but the Sainsbury brand was decent.

Custard has its dangers, though. First off, you have to buy it by the pint. For a family, that might work. For single usage, it's a bit much when you consider danger number two: they simply use less preservatives over here. Once you crack the top of the custard you have less than 3 days to consume. Driven by a fear of spoiling, I pretty much eat the whole thing in about 10 minutes. Nothing like taking down 1000 calories, 100 grams of fat, and 50 grams of sugar in about the same time it takes to drink a cup o' joe. It should make me sick. Should.

Cheers!

I'm against a homogenized society, because I want the cream to rise.
Robert Frost (1874 - 1963)

Better Blogs

2008-08-25T21:41:00.006+01:00

Folks -- England hasn't provided much blog fodder this past week. The weather still sucks. Hedge trimming is overrated. And both the wife and I have been putting in lots of hours at the mill.

I could tell you about how I had to fix the fence since Boo has escaped twice and found that the field next door is invested with some mutant horde of fleas. Seriously.

Or about how hedge trimming is a crap job. The trimming part is fun but you wouldn't believe how quickly those hedge trimmings can add up. I have no idea what to do with them.

We could talk about how we finally have a car and that shifting with your left hand feels like someone else is doing it and that the wife says I still get a constipated look on my face when I change gears. Hmm.

Or we could talk about how we totally lost control of the garden. I actually used the hedge trimmer to cut down the lettuce and it took us 2 hours yesterday to untangle the two giant tomato trees that had waged a smothering war on each other (but - oh! - the fried green tomatoes made from the fallout boys were awesome!)

But there is hope. We have confirmed a quick break-out of England this Friday as we make our way to Paris to meet with some travelling cousins. Alright, alright. Good food, good drink, a room right next to the Eiffel-ma-bob, and lots of blog-tastic adventures.

Follow that up with a possible trip to the home of goulash (Budapest!) later in September and the arrival of our very first and most special American visitors, His Lord and Ladyship the Duke and Duchess of Westmont (Pez and Payne), and you have a hot month of blogging. Better than a hot lunch, I'll say, unless you are in to that sort of thing.

Cheers!

Bring Out the Gimp

2008-08-22T09:46:00.003+01:00

I took some pics of the Lilacs the other day whilst playing with a new lens. I didn't have much to blog about today so I decided to play with GIMP, a freeware graphics tool. This hack is the result. I recommend double-clicking on the image for a better view.

Back to Bizness

2008-08-21T08:13:00.008+01:00

After yesterday's lapse, it's time to get back to talking about food and beer. Last night we dined at The Three Horseshoes, over in Allensmore, down Kingstone way, around the corner from Lock's Garage (pronounced ga-raj.) You know the place, right? There are at least six places by the same name in Herefordshire so make sure you get it right if you ever get out this way. I added it to the map below just in case.

I would go back for the beer but I'd think twice about the grub. I had two pints of Wye Valley Brewery Butty Bach. Nice, golden beer with out much bite. I could drink this one all night without too much trouble. They had a bunch of beers on draft and I also noticed a new certification, Cask Marque, that is similar to the Beautiful Beer award I blogged about a fortnight back. There are many, many more local pubs on the Cask Marque certified list, so I'm not sure if its just more accepted or more lenient. I think I want to become a Cask Marque field acreditor. You show up unannounced and they have to give you six free pints of your choice. I might start my own acreditation that requires the qualifying pub to provide six rounds for me and my 'tasting crew'.

Service was excellent and the wait staff was very friendly. They always seem quite surprised when they ask us if we are on holiday and find out that we actually live here.

To start, I had some duck pate (3) while the missus had cream of mushroom soup (2). The pate was decent enough but I wouldn't get it again. The soup was quite good -- thick with chunks of mushrooms and a broth that was not too heavy.

For dinner, I had the 'monster mixed grill' (3). I had a very similar dish at the Grafton near our place, and it was good when I had it there. The basic idea is they bring you a small chunk of about 7 or 8 different grilled meats. Last night it was beef steak, pork chop, kidney, blood sausage, some other sausage, lamb chop, gammon (smoked ham), a fried egg, some grilled tomatoes, and some sauteed mushrooms. All of this with a giant side of fries. And all of it cooked well past a happy medium, even by English standards. Not so good. The missus had the faggots (3) with mushy peas (2) -- which ended up being large meatballs with a livery after-taste in a rich sauce. They were better than my mixed grill. The mushy peas were the best I've had.

No dessert on this trip. I helped the hostess swipe our credit card (she'd never done that before) and we went on our way.

I think I might get back and try a few more pints here, and maybe something different off the menu (should have got the steak and Guinness pie!) It's right between home and work so for convenience alone, it's worth a trip back.

Cheers!