Being A Girl . Being A Mum . British Stuff . Cooking . My Father . My Mother
Other People’s Hams
On September 22, 2021 by Speranza
I’ve been a food enthusiast for most of my adult life and I have even been paid regularly to write about it. I enjoy reading about the history of food, what other people are eating and of course how to make it myself. It’s especially fascinating to me how many similarities, world-wide, there are. For example, every culture seems to have their own version of a “sandwich.” I’ll leave you to ponder examples for yourself.
The interesting thing is that as a child I was often branded as a “terribly picky eater” and it was widely hoped that being subjected to school dinners in the UK – a militaristic, character building ordeal – would be “the making of me” and presumably, would sort me out once and for all.
But first, let me offer my own defence and perspective.
Eating Out . Food
Lettuce Take Care
On July 4, 2016 by Speranza
We were talking at work the other day about the universal frustration of receiving a restaurant or deli salad only to discover that the leaves have scarcely been torn in half and worse still, the stump end of the lettuce (affectionately known as the “romaine bum” by my brother) has somehow been incorporated as well, unwanted and unattractive, a pale brown corona gleaming beneath the creamy dressing.
It’s as though this is perfectly acceptable. It’s all lettuce, yes?
Who’s doing this?!
British Stuff . Food . Nostalgia
Talkin’ About My Maceration
On June 28, 2016 by Speranza
It’s become very fashionable to make a big statement about eating “locally” and “seasonally” but many of us have been doing this as a matter of common sense for years. Strawberries, for example; obviously, they are available year round but how to compare a strawberry that arrives in the grocery store pale and grumbly from all that travelling with the sweet, deeply red jewels we’re savoring this month?
(And, unlike their winter counterparts, these summer fellows do not have the unfortunate texture of a raw potato).
Even within the (almost daily, I confess) samplings of strawberries that I have been eating there’s a wide swoon factor between local and really local; these are the almost black-red, luscious little pillows that have no hint of tartness and adding cream or cake or anything else seems to impinge on their pure, clean taste.
There’s nothing like them is there?
Cooking . Recipes . Someone's Mum
Someone’s Mum’s Cinnamon Buns
On November 7, 2015 by Speranza
I don’t care for the commercial grade, overly hefty cinnamon buns.
It’s what my mum would call “too much of a muchness.”
It’s just not okay to me when a bun looks as though it’s been carved away in the style of a Chicago Deep Dish pizza; it’s too much on the plate, the icing texture is reminiscent of toothpaste and no matter how tantalizing the smell is at the time, ultimately, there will be disappointment and a broken plastic fork.
If you can relate to any of this, you will be very happy with the following recipe.
Cooking
Fear of Frying
On October 21, 2015 by Speranza
Like many people I’ve always had a cast iron fry pan in my repertoire but I only drag it out a few times a year for certain recipes and usually afterwards I am lamenting that I didn’t remember how badly it sticks and how I should have re-seasoned it. Then, I generally leave it out for a while to remind myself before finally getting tired of seeing it and back it goes to the dark side of the cupboard. This is a cycle as regular as the seasons yet like many things, I am ashamed to say that it seems less tiresome to slope into my car, drive to a store and purchase yet another non-stick pan once the current one starts getting that sun-burned skin going on in the middle. Disturbing! But lately I feel guilty and a bit queasy when I recall all those things about not having any kind of caged bird around if you use non-stick (how can THAT be okay?) and then there’s the entire health concern and environmental piece.
So, when I recently unearthed a truly ancient cast iron fry pan that had belonged to The General’s mother – the appearance of which was both endearing and alarming – I was inspired afresh to make things right.