I like to cook because of experiences like yesterday. It was pouring rain all day and cold (thanks, Summer, for visiting us here in the UK a few weeks ago. Mind coming back?) No sense going out for food, and so began a day of culinary adventures foraging through cupboard and fridge for just the right combinations.
In the fridge and freezer:
eggs
cheese
spinach
cooked black eyed peas (yes, leftover but reconstitution renders any food "new" rather than "leftover" in my universe - the leftover hating universe)
half a purple onion
cauliflower
cooked rice
bacon
In the cupboard and on the sideboard:
tinned tomatoes
potatoes
Crystal sauce
dried coriander and cumin
limes
garlic
salt and pepper
really bad and therefore oh so good chocolate covered biscuit wheels with marshmallow cream inside
So we had a fantastic bean, spinach, onion and cheese frittata with homemade salsa.
And roasted potato wedges later to finish up the salsa.
Fried rice with bacon, cauliflower and spinach.
really bad biscuits
We even had a bottle of red wine kicking around here. Time to stock up for the next rainy day, that's for sure.
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
Friday, May 23, 2008
23.5.08 no such thing as a free lunch
The other night I was invited to a meal at a local mosque. The hospitality was gorgeous; the food - tandori chicken, spring rolls, rice, stewed lamb, dal - was amazing, served hot and plenty, family style at big tables. It was all free.
Except that it wasn't. The intention of the evening was to debunk some myths about Islam. Sort of a "you've heard from all the rest, now hear it from us" kind of a thing. And that was a wonderful idea. I love the openness and the transparency they were going for.
Unfortunately, the "tour" turned out to be a sermon. I've been to plenty of similar events in Christian churches that had the same feel to them: instead of sharing, it was about converting.
In the old days of Christian missionaries, there was a term for this - "rice Christians," which meant people who were converted because they were given food when they were hungry.
I wasn't that hungry the other night, I have to say, even though I'd worked right through lunch.
I did eat too much, though, which may have been why I tossed and turned with dreams that night. I dreamt that religions, so full of hope and meaning, would be united by their highest efforts and the best good, rather than a lower common denominator like what I experienced that night. Give us your best, religions of the world, and call out our best in return...and then perhaps no one will ever go hungry again.
I can dream, right?
Except that it wasn't. The intention of the evening was to debunk some myths about Islam. Sort of a "you've heard from all the rest, now hear it from us" kind of a thing. And that was a wonderful idea. I love the openness and the transparency they were going for.
Unfortunately, the "tour" turned out to be a sermon. I've been to plenty of similar events in Christian churches that had the same feel to them: instead of sharing, it was about converting.
In the old days of Christian missionaries, there was a term for this - "rice Christians," which meant people who were converted because they were given food when they were hungry.
I wasn't that hungry the other night, I have to say, even though I'd worked right through lunch.
I did eat too much, though, which may have been why I tossed and turned with dreams that night. I dreamt that religions, so full of hope and meaning, would be united by their highest efforts and the best good, rather than a lower common denominator like what I experienced that night. Give us your best, religions of the world, and call out our best in return...and then perhaps no one will ever go hungry again.
I can dream, right?
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
20.5.08 the dog ate my blog
Did I really not eat for a week?
Seriously, of course not.
Imagine a hunger strike for a good cause, though. I read on the net somewhere that "Gandhi never fasted for more than 21 days." Only 21? What a comment! I've been known to go 21 minutes without food, but never without thinking about food.
In the developed, western world we have the incredible luxury of connecting food with self-expression (the eating of it, not the refusal of it, I'm talking about now).
My mom told me last night that she went to her first vegan restaurant. It wasn't her cup of tea, necessarily. I find it interesting that I think I can picture the "type" of people she dined with. There may have been a few business suits, but I bet there weren't.
The reason I haven't been writing is that my food in the past 8 days has said this: I'm disoriented and, though not depressed, decidedly blue.
next time I'm in such a funk, I'll eat only blue food to match my mood, and perhaps lift it.
this has not stopped me from having at least 1 pain au chocolat - a certain spot of sunshine in cloudy week...
Seriously, of course not.
Imagine a hunger strike for a good cause, though. I read on the net somewhere that "Gandhi never fasted for more than 21 days." Only 21? What a comment! I've been known to go 21 minutes without food, but never without thinking about food.
In the developed, western world we have the incredible luxury of connecting food with self-expression (the eating of it, not the refusal of it, I'm talking about now).
My mom told me last night that she went to her first vegan restaurant. It wasn't her cup of tea, necessarily. I find it interesting that I think I can picture the "type" of people she dined with. There may have been a few business suits, but I bet there weren't.
The reason I haven't been writing is that my food in the past 8 days has said this: I'm disoriented and, though not depressed, decidedly blue.
next time I'm in such a funk, I'll eat only blue food to match my mood, and perhaps lift it.
this has not stopped me from having at least 1 pain au chocolat - a certain spot of sunshine in cloudy week...
Monday, May 12, 2008
12.5.08 why is 5 so easy?
Eating five fruit and veg a day is suddenly easy because I've got a fruit&veg shop one block a way. It's just a few doors down from the pain au chocolat place so pretty much as long as I allow myself to divert in that direction every so often, the F&V place gets most of my attention now.
The budget has gotten a bit out of control lately (F&V not to blame) so I set two standards today: at least 5 and all under a fiver.
carrots
broccoli
okra
tinned tomatoes
and
um
red wine (grapes AND antioxidants...)
Okay, it isn't that easy, but it's fun to try.
I did it, with a cappuccino to boot. At least I would have done if it weren't for the chocolate covered halvah near the counter at the F&V shop. How can they do that? So I was .79 over.
The second standard was at least 5 glasses of water. I think I managed nearly 8, which is better anyway. Wait, that reminds me (water is a great way to boost your mental acuity) I also had raisins on my breakfast toast with peanut butter. Beautiful little golden ones. Yippee! She shoots...she scores!
The budget has gotten a bit out of control lately (F&V not to blame) so I set two standards today: at least 5 and all under a fiver.
carrots
broccoli
okra
tinned tomatoes
and
um
red wine (grapes AND antioxidants...)
Okay, it isn't that easy, but it's fun to try.
I did it, with a cappuccino to boot. At least I would have done if it weren't for the chocolate covered halvah near the counter at the F&V shop. How can they do that? So I was .79 over.
The second standard was at least 5 glasses of water. I think I managed nearly 8, which is better anyway. Wait, that reminds me (water is a great way to boost your mental acuity) I also had raisins on my breakfast toast with peanut butter. Beautiful little golden ones. Yippee! She shoots...she scores!
Saturday, May 10, 2008
10.5.08 it was his last meal
Or hers. I'm not sure. I didn't get close enough to the little mouse in our kitchen who we discovered this morning had, well, um, taken the bait.
Okay, that's morbid and horrible.
In other news. The vegetables and fruit to pass my lips today have all been of a distinctly distorted version. Raspberry jam, and apricot jam with an actual apricot in the spoonful. On a brioche, of course. I would like to point out that wheat was once a green, growing thing - does that count?
Let's see...ice cream in Battersea park from the Mr. Whippy van so not even any cream in that let alone green stuff.
Green stuff? Wait! There was pesto on my pasta tonight. Basil must most certainly count.
And the cheese, a fantastic hard, round ball of a thing from Whole Foods, was a orange as a carrot (but not because of some weird food dye like some countries like to put in their cheddars).
A cappuccino in St. Pancras station this morning with a friend we were dropping off at the train. I won't go back for another at the restaurant we tried, but there are half a dozen more in the new and improved gateway to Paris. Which makes me think that since I'm at the station already, next time I might just go to the source and eat my crispy, buttery, chocolately wonder in the shadow of the Eiffel tower. It will be more expensive, of course.
Oh man, look at the labels. Not the healthiest day I've posted, but the sun was shining and the Buddha in the Peace Pagoda was smiling, as were we when we visited the dogs at the Battersea Home for Dogs and Cats. In other words, there was a lot of walking involved today. We probably nearly maybe broke even...
Okay, that's morbid and horrible.
In other news. The vegetables and fruit to pass my lips today have all been of a distinctly distorted version. Raspberry jam, and apricot jam with an actual apricot in the spoonful. On a brioche, of course. I would like to point out that wheat was once a green, growing thing - does that count?
Let's see...ice cream in Battersea park from the Mr. Whippy van so not even any cream in that let alone green stuff.
Green stuff? Wait! There was pesto on my pasta tonight. Basil must most certainly count.
And the cheese, a fantastic hard, round ball of a thing from Whole Foods, was a orange as a carrot (but not because of some weird food dye like some countries like to put in their cheddars).
A cappuccino in St. Pancras station this morning with a friend we were dropping off at the train. I won't go back for another at the restaurant we tried, but there are half a dozen more in the new and improved gateway to Paris. Which makes me think that since I'm at the station already, next time I might just go to the source and eat my crispy, buttery, chocolately wonder in the shadow of the Eiffel tower. It will be more expensive, of course.
Oh man, look at the labels. Not the healthiest day I've posted, but the sun was shining and the Buddha in the Peace Pagoda was smiling, as were we when we visited the dogs at the Battersea Home for Dogs and Cats. In other words, there was a lot of walking involved today. We probably nearly maybe broke even...
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
6.5.08 The Trip to Bountiful
Our friend H. brought us Bounty Ice Cream bars for snacks at a meeting today - the first in our garden as it was a lovely warm day. ice cream was perfect indeed.
It looks like I have a much more serious compatriot in this blog...also a Bounty fan on at least one occasion.
It looks like I have a much more serious compatriot in this blog...also a Bounty fan on at least one occasion.
Friday, May 2, 2008
2.5.08 mamma's cookin'
It was cold and rainy. Work has been devilish this week. I just wanted comfort. As often happens in my world, it came on a plate and I was glad for it.
The sign on the window claimed it was a snack bar. So what was a roast dinner doing laid out on the side board? Where were the snacks? Why did it feel like walking into a family Sunday dinner? The woman said, "You are hungry. Come to mamma." Something like that. More gravy, is what I said. She blessed me with a bow as I paid her and said, "I hope you will come again. At night, it is Thai food." She gave me too much change but noticed her mistake before I did and I was only too happy to give it right back. Imagine the bad karma of inadvertently stealing from your surrogate lunch mother!
Once I salted the soggy cauliflower and the intriguingly tough lamb planks and the splotchy roast potato chunks, it conspired to have just enough flavor to see me through. If "mamma" had followed it up with a heavy-crusted apple pie, I would have gone for it.
It was an easy chair and a favorite quilt for the belly. And, as I said, I was glad for it. I will visit her again, but more for her Malaysian matter-of-factness and her genuine desire to feed your soul than the actual food off the stove in the corner of the front room. The broadness of her welcome and the big round white plates.
We went to another cozy place today that was equally warm and yet a polar opposite in character: a rough at the edges but nevertheless trendy whole foods place by the Shoreditch rail line. It's a grocery but also has a cafe at the back serving Monmouth coffees (yes, cappuccino) and yummy cakes under arched, warm red bricks. The kitchen is open there, too, but it's populated by fresh young things with scruffy attitude. Less likely to go back there just because the weather is cool, but maybe when I'm feeling too cool for school.
The sign on the window claimed it was a snack bar. So what was a roast dinner doing laid out on the side board? Where were the snacks? Why did it feel like walking into a family Sunday dinner? The woman said, "You are hungry. Come to mamma." Something like that. More gravy, is what I said. She blessed me with a bow as I paid her and said, "I hope you will come again. At night, it is Thai food." She gave me too much change but noticed her mistake before I did and I was only too happy to give it right back. Imagine the bad karma of inadvertently stealing from your surrogate lunch mother!
Once I salted the soggy cauliflower and the intriguingly tough lamb planks and the splotchy roast potato chunks, it conspired to have just enough flavor to see me through. If "mamma" had followed it up with a heavy-crusted apple pie, I would have gone for it.
It was an easy chair and a favorite quilt for the belly. And, as I said, I was glad for it. I will visit her again, but more for her Malaysian matter-of-factness and her genuine desire to feed your soul than the actual food off the stove in the corner of the front room. The broadness of her welcome and the big round white plates.
We went to another cozy place today that was equally warm and yet a polar opposite in character: a rough at the edges but nevertheless trendy whole foods place by the Shoreditch rail line. It's a grocery but also has a cafe at the back serving Monmouth coffees (yes, cappuccino) and yummy cakes under arched, warm red bricks. The kitchen is open there, too, but it's populated by fresh young things with scruffy attitude. Less likely to go back there just because the weather is cool, but maybe when I'm feeling too cool for school.
Thursday, May 1, 2008
30.4.08 it was a vegetable success
so here's the count for Wednesday, the 30th, which is today by my body clock but yesterday by the clock and calendar...
okra and tomatoes - homemade and not very slimy, with plenty of Crystal sauce
rocket
apple
coconut macaroons (that counts, right?)
broccoli
and a cappuccino to keep up with it all
okra and tomatoes - homemade and not very slimy, with plenty of Crystal sauce
rocket
apple
coconut macaroons (that counts, right?)
broccoli
and a cappuccino to keep up with it all
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