In Praise of Food - England

The poor Brits have been the butt of culinary jokes for years. They’ve been accused of eating food that’s bland, boring and as soggy as the weather.

At left is their version of a chili dog (eaten on Inaugeration Day last year). And, believe me, it tasted really good ... just not like a chili dog.

My family wasn’t from British stock but I grew up with boiled beef, boiled chicken and fresh vegetables boiled until they were a sodden mass. Even canned peas were boiled as if to make sure there wasn’t a trace of taste or nutrition left!

I didn’t know I liked eating at all until after I left home. Moving to California in 1973, I discovered the delights of avocados, bagels, and Mexican food that didn’t come from Taco Bell. Even later, delicacies from Vietnam, Thailand, Korea, and the Middle East were added to my list of favorite foods. My love affair with food is here to stay – although I wish it didn’t love me back quite so much!

In any case, it was with a bit of trepidation that I planned my move to the UK. I knew that London was cosmopolitan and would have at least as many ethnic restaurants as Los Angeles … but I was moving up North.

I needn’t have worried.

For one thing, Yorkshire has so much farmland that fresh ingredients abound. For another, I had access to all kinds of amazing English dairy products – local artisan cheeses, golden cubes of fresh butter, Cornish clotted cream, et al - which delighted my palate if not my arteries or my waistline.

While living in Skipton, I had milk delivered to my door in glass pint bottles. It was a little more expensive than buying it at Tesco but I lived on a hill and it was great to not have to haul milk home, in addition to groceries. But hill or no, the delight I got out of having milk in bottles was all out of proportion to the little added expense.

Even getting a pre-made sandwich (something I pretty much avoid here in the States) was a yummy adventure…although I still can’t quite fathom why they always put corn in their tuna salad. (It doesn’t really taste bad … it’s just a bit odd.)

Three things to try:

Cornish clotted cream ice cream. (OH.MY.)

Bacon. Theirs is closer to Canadian bacon, really. But it’s raw and thinly sliced. And absolutely delicious! They do have our kind of bacon but it’s called “streaky bacon.”

Cakes. Not as sweet as ours and with a coarser crumb. But just the ticket with a cup of tea!

Crisps. Crisps are what they call potato chips. (“Chips” are what we call French fries.) They come in amazing flavors like ‘Lamb and mint’, ‘Flame-broiled steak’, and ‘chicken and thyme.’ Not any healthier than ours but definitely yummy!

Things to pass on:

Black pudding. Not really black - and most definitely not a pudding. It's a sausage-type thing and a part of any respectable fry-up.

Dandelion & Burdock soda. Why someone decided to make a soft drink flavored by a weed is beyond me. I can't stress how much this is an acquired taste. Other odd sodas are orange squash (like a bunch of chemicals pretending to be oranges) and Shandy Soda which is, basically, beer-flavored soda. Not too bad - but definitely strange. (This is different from actual shandy, which is beer and Sprite or lemonade mixed half and half. Honest.)

Marmite. A black-brown spread that's a byproduct of brewing. It's terribly healthy but if you didn't grow up eating it, you probably won't like it. (It's pretty much the same as the Vegemite Australians are so crazy about.)

Things that might surprise you:

Haggis. If you can get over what it is (sheep's stomach stuffed with oatmeal and other unmentionable sheep bits), it tastes pretty good! (The haggis is the brown stuff at the bottom - the white and yellow are 'tatties and neeps' - potatoes and turnips respectively.)

Mashed swede. Basically, swede is rutabaga … and the times I had it in the States I wasn't impressed. But mashed with cream and butter (and possibly carrots or potatoes), it's quite good.

Warm ale. If you like beer at all, try a local ale pulled from casks in the cellar of the pub. Lager (light-colored beer, like Bud) is served cold but ale really is best at room temperature so, you can really taste all the different flavors mingling. Treat it like you would a glass of nice wine - breathe in the scent before you taste it. Then take a sip and let it roll around your tongue. Ahhhhh…!

SIGNS, SIGNS, Part 2

This one from Copenhagen made me giggle because of it sounds like Tony Soprano as a tour guide. See da Thai restaurant. See da Indian restaurant. See da Italian restaurant. See da McDonalds…!

I found this one in Rome. I love the idea of selling "Frozen water " ... You mean, like, ICE?

Some signs are pretty much to the point. Take this one, from England, for instance!

Here's one that requires a little reading. It's from Inishmore, one of the Aran Islands (of sweater fame). Signs in western Ireland are bilingual and this one is no exception. However, note that the fine amount is different in English. So, if you dump trash and you're speaking English while doing it, you'll be stuck with a €4.61 surcharge. Not quite sure how they enforce that one!

Most times it's pretty easy to figure out what is meant by a sign, even if the wording seems a bit odd to speakers of American-English. But this one had me stumped for several years. Mentally, I was picturing punks going around and pinging flies over onto their sides - a mini version of cow tipping so beloved by good ol' boys in America's heartland. But finally, British friend set me straight.

"Fly tipping" is knocking over trash cans!

What signs have you found that hit you funny??

SIGNS, SIGNS, Part 1

I love taking pictures of signs that tickle my funny bone. Sometimes it’s a mistranslation into English (if you get a kick out of these, check out the engrish.com website).

Other times it’s the sign equivalent of a typo. I know this isn’t from Europe, but I can think of no better example as the infamous Crapi Apartments in Los Angeles. I used to live right around the corner and it’s been like this for years. I don’t know if the owners aren’t aware or just don’t care. (Moral of the story, if you’re going to try to sound exotic, be sure to check the spelling!)

Still other times it’s just words or phrases that have a slightly different meaning to Americans than they do to, say, the Brits. (I’m sure they find examples when they come over here too.) For example, ‘homely’ means ‘plain and slightly ugly’ to Americans but to the British it’s the same as ‘home-y’ to Americans. (That is, cozy and home-like not the ghetto-slang meaning someone from your ‘hood…!)

Sometimes it’s just something that strikes me funny…such as the this sign I saw in the

Madrid airport. I know how it feels! (Why it wasn’t in Spanish, I’ve no idea!)

Other times, it might be something that requires a sentence or two to explain why I found it funny at all. Here’s another Madrid sign. I only have basic high school Spanish but to me for all the world like it’s advertising parking for a Bono concert.

Lastly, there are signs that strike me as funny just because of linguistic cultural differences. I was confused by this sign - is it for a team of youthful offenders or a team of people whose job it is to offend the youth?

Whereever I am, I try to snap signs that tickle my funny bone. Have you done that too? If so, I'd love to hear about it or see the pictures! You can contact me at wordgoddess@gmail.com.

In Praise of Food … Greece

** Sorry for the blog-break - my oldest son graduated (PhD, Physics, Rice University!) and right afterward I got the mother of all colds. I'm finally recovering from both! ** Remember what I said about the cultural experience of grocery shopping in one of my earlier posts? Here's a perfect example!

It happened when my bud Kelley and I were in Crete. We were staying in the port town of Chania (or Hania) and had already had an amazing outdoor lunch by the harbor: grilled veggies and fried calamari (squid). There was also tzatziki, which is a mixture of thick yogurt, finely chopped cucumber, mint, dill, and lemon juice to dip fresh pita bread into. (Okay -- bad grammar but great food!)

We were on a budget and had already spent quite a bit on lunch so decided dinner should be a simple affair. Off we went to a little local grocery store nearby to get some good local ingredients. There was a hot plate in our room and a tiny roof-top patio where we could eat.

When we asked the grocery store owner which local feta was best, he decided we should sample some raki – also known as Cretan firewater. A toast was drunk. When we asked about local tomatoes, we got more raki and another toast was drunk. By the time was got to the local cucumbers, we were getting a little drunk too. (Raki is pretty potent stuff!)

We weaved our merry way back to the room where dinner was duly made (see RIGHT) then we took the stairs up to the patio.It was lovely up there - and soooo romantic! We'd both dreamed of that kind of romantic setting -- unfortunately, not with each other. Everything about our little hotel was romantic - note gauzy canopy of the bed Kelley's sitting on while chopping veggies. (There was a 2 person jacuzzi tub just off to her left.)

We still can't figure out why we were given the honeymoon suite!

In Praise of Food … Italy

The Italians love to eat - no shock there - and this love permeates the food from street vendors, sandwich shops, and local lunch places as well as fancy restaurants with Michelin stars. Notice, for instance, the gorgeous roll at left. A little smaller than a softball with a crunchy outside and soft center, these were presented for breakfast at the (decidedly NOT upscale!) hostel my friend and I stayed in Rome. A far cry from the usual loaf of grocery white bread and a toaster!

Here is wonderful tomato and bread concoction in Rome. This came from a Rick Steves recommendation – the owner is apparently big on providing cheap food for local students. The restaurant was only a short walk from the Pantheon, nestled among literally dozens of other eating places. It only cost about €3.95 and was so good I wanted to lick the plate afterward. (Don’t worry, my friend Kelley restrained me!) Her meat and cheese sandwich is at right. Because we had Rick’s book on the table – we got free glasses of homemade strawberry wine afterward! (So of course, we had to take pictures of that too.)

This was a simple but delectable sandwich eaten on the hoof as I walked around Florence.

If you’re like me and love to cook as well as eat – don’t miss out on a chance to experiment with local ingredients! Buying groceries can be a fascinating experience – especially if there’s a language barrier. =] Here’s a shot of a dinner I made in a Rome hostel. After a long day of sightseeing, it was great to relax and do some cooking. And to eat afterward!

This is one of my very favorite food pictures. It was taken at Acqua AL 2 (www.acquaaal2.it) in Florence. I got a ‘mixed plate’ which was basically tastes of several of that day’s dishes. This one was ravioli stuffed with cheese and dark grapes. Sounds weird – tasted divine! If I’d have known how amazing it was, I’d have forgotten about trying the other dishes and concentrated on it. For those of you in the southern California area, Acqua AL 2 has a sister restaurant (oddly) in San Diego (www.acquaal2.com).. I’ve not been there (yet) but if you go, I’d love to hear about it!

In Praise of Food … Intro

Eating is a way of taking in culture at a truly basic level – and it’s a one of the great joys of traveling. So look beyond the McDonalds, Burger Kings, and KFCs to experience the local cuisine.

Obviously, if you’re on a shoestring, you probably won’t be hitting top-tier fancy restaurants. Personally, if I have to spend a week’s wages for a single meal, I’m probably not going to enjoy it that much anyway… no matter which lauded chef-of-the-moment had a hand in its preparation. But that doesn’t mean I don’t eat memorably when I travel.

Remember, most Europeans are ‘regular folks’ just like most of us. These people have to eat too. And they eat very well! In addition to restaurants, there are also food stalls, sandwich shops, and it's always lovely to have a picnic!

I’m one of those horrible people who actually take pictures of my food before diving in. Well, a lot of the time – I don’t take pictures of every single meal!

Once I’m back home I print up my favorites and put them on the dining room wall. They’re bright, cheerful, and remind me of great memories. It’s also a pretty cheap way to decorate. =]

Again – this isn’t meant to show off and tell you what great times I’ve had. It's an encouragement for you to go out and have your own adventures!

Life in an Irish Hostel...Part 2

Early December, 2005


It’s hard to believe that I’ve only got a week left in Galway. In a lot of ways the experience has been nothing like I’d imagined. For one thing, I ended up staying in the hostel for the entire time.

This had advantages: I was in the center of town, I had a built-in group of people to make friends with, the people who run the hostel gave the long-termers leeway and perks.

I got used to the long trek up to our room, having to get down from the upper bunk and sharing a bathroom with 7 other women. (See my well-thought-out bed right? The blue bag was for dirty clothes.)

A big bunch of us all hung out, often cooked together and had all kinds of “social events.” One time, we had “Spanish night” with Spanish wine and pate I’d brought back from Spain and tortilla (egg and potato omelet) made by our Spanish chef, Sergio. The next week we had a “French night” with French cheeses, French wine, and fresh crepes made by our French chef, Caroline. (Left)

We made costumes and went out at Halloween. (Right, in case you couldn't figure that out!)

We had a “dress up” night a couple of weekends ago. We DO clean up well, I think!


And last weekend we had a big Thanksgiving dinner. (Left)

It was great shopping at the wonderful Saturday farmer's market - and the good deals helped greatly with keeping down the cost of living. (My favorite stall, right, mingled smells of garlic, olives, and lavender - an amazing scent that I only wish I could have captured on film!)

I went for walks along Galway Bay most mornings. It was sometimes hard to get moving that early but the gorgeous views (with or without rain) were definitely worth it.

Most of us were looking for work so no one had much money but we managed to have a great time anyway. It’s going to be tough to say goodbye to them all…but it’s great to know I’ve made so many contacts for places to stay in future travels! =]

Life in an Irish Hostel...Part 1

GALWAY IRELAND, November 2005

I’ve been living in the Barnacles Hostel, which is right on the main drag. (Pictures above were taken from my room.) This is nice and convenient – except for the part about the 3 pubs directly below my room’s window. To say the least, it gets pretty noisy at night. Luckily, I have no trouble sleeping through nearly anything. The other night, we heard big band music coming from one pub and the Rolling Stones coming from another pub: sort of a Tommy Dorsey-Mick Jagger mix.

I’ve made friends with a real international group at the hostel. Our dinner discussions end up in a mix of German, French, Spanish and English. One night the table I sat at had people from Germany, Canada, Australia, Spain, France, Switzerland and – of course – the U.S. Dinner discussions are held in a mix of languages. There’s a lot of laughter and looking up of words.

Oddly and somewhat sadly, I've not had a chance to get to know any actual IRISH people…!

I’ve been here going on 6 weeks now. I’m in a room of 8 women…with one bathroom. It’s the college dorm experience I never had - complete with late-night gabfests, lots of laughing and unmentionables hanging in the bathroom.

On Thursday nights a bunch of us go to the Spanish Arch Hotel, which has a live 17 piece Big Band playing. For free. The music is great and so danceable! (What I lack in grace and skill, I make up in enthusiasm.)

I’m sitting in my bed typing this with my comforter over my head so I don’t disturb my roommates. (It’s only 6 am.) Odd, the things you find yourself doing, sometimes, isn’t it?

Living in the city center, you never know what you’ll hear on the weekends. Last Saturday around 3:30 am, I woke up to pounding on the front door of the hostel accompanied by a male voice yelling, “C’mon, let us in! We’re not naked anymore!!!” It’s one of those moments where you’re curious – but don’t really want to know…

Below: Galway side street, my favorite busker, and Quay Street in the late afternoon.