Blog Archives
Banging on about bacon
I rarely beat my chest and shout, “We’re number 1! We’re number 1!” when speaking of America.
But in matters of bacon? Well, that’s when I will get all patriotic and bang the drum. American bacon is simply magnificent. Crispety, crunchety, peanut buttery Butterfinger … wait, where was I? Oh yeah, bacon! Crispety, crunchety, sublime, salty, smoky bacon is pure bliss.
If you’ve ever had Irish bacon (blah!!) or British bacon (double blah!!), you know what it’s like to taste rubbery, salty, greasy, limp fat. It’s ridiculous that it can even be called “bacon.” It should be called “snake-in” instead of bacon because it’s like a deceitful snake in bacon’s clothing.
The closest you’re going to get to American bacon is streaky bacon (aka rashers), which is the nearest cousin to our native bacon. Never be mistakin’ back bacon for bacon. It has far too much meat on it – not enough crispy fat – and is probably why people like to drown their bacon butties (bacon sandwiches, made from back bacon) in brown sauce, and why we, in contrast, celebrate our bacon sandwiches by topping them with lettuce and tomato and a thin spread of mayonnaise, so the baconyness really shines through.
What I really haven’t been able to figure out is why more countries don’t hop on the American bandwagon and make their bacon like we do. After all, a pig is a pig is a pig, no matter where you live. Answers on a postcard, please.
Fine food and film
Number 5,761 reason why Britain is so cool: The Lounge at Odeon, the new London luxury cinema experience for the over-18 crowd.
With leather seats that fully recline and no more than 50 seats per screen, it’s a spacious way to enjoy a movie. But they also offer a full menu of finger foods, fork-and-knife fare including red mullet and prawn risotto, venison chili and lasagne, and desserts as well as a cocktail menu, all delivered directly to your seat by dedicated wait staff.
It’s a novel way to enjoy the big screen (and certainly beats oversalted popcorn and gloppy nachos). I would certainly check it out if I were in London this weekend …
Speaking of weekends, have a wonderful one and happy Martin Luther King, Jr. Day (Americans enjoy a bank holiday on Monday)! I’ll see you back here on Tuesday.
A simple posset
The last time we were in England for Christmas, I tasted my first posset.
That’s posset, not possum. This is England, people, not Kentucky.
And so this time of year, I always think about posset, this simple dessert made from citrus fruit, sugar, cream and sometimes eggs, which traces back to the 16th century. It’s easily made in minutes and will brighten up the darkest of winter days.
The following is a very simple recipe for lemon posset, courtesy of the BBC and chef James Martin:
Ingredients
600ml/1 pint 1fl oz double cream
150g/5oz caster sugar
2 large lemons, zest and juice only
1. Place the double cream and the sugar into a large pan over a low heat and bring to the boil slowly. Boil for three minutes, then remove from the heat and allow to cool.
2. Add the lemon juice and zest and whisk well.
3. Pour the lemon cream mixture into six large serving glasses and refrigerate for three hours.
Pork crackling, part deux
You asked, “Why exactly would a hairdryer be used to prepare roast pork?”
Well, as a post-holiday gift to you, I’ll tell you the secret.
Shhh… lean in. Are you leaning in? Really?
Okay, so in order to make really good pork crackling, you need to get the pork as dry as possible.
According to Gastronomy Domine, after scoring the skin with a craft knife (we purchased a box cutter just for this occasion. We really are very crafty) and rubbing salt into the skin, the site recommends that you “take a hairdryer to the skin of the meat until it’s absolutely bone dry. Wrap your joint in a teatowel and refrigerate it overnight. (The atmosphere in your fridge is extremely dry, and this will help any more moisture to evaporate.)”
In short, that is why my husband went all Ken Paves on our pork.
We got some other tips here and used a little poetic license as far as the heat and timing was concerned.
But that is how we ended up with the crispiest pork rind west of the English Channel.
The beauty of a digestive
My husband brought some Cadbury chocolate digestives (graham crackery, chocolate-dipped sweet meal biscuits) home from Cost Plus this weekend and I wasn’t going to have one. I’m trying to curb the excess, at least in the run up to the full fledged eatathon that is the holiday season. I’m consciously scaling back a bit, before I strap on the feedbag and get down, in true American fashion.
But then somewhere in the midst of deciding not to, I ate one.
A British bento box
I’ve been shopping for bento boxes this week for my son, in the hopes of taming our daily use of ziplock bags and adding some fun to the standard (yawn!) packed lunch.
Look what I found! At first glance, it looks like a double decker London bus! But take a closer look!
And it comes complete with London bus chopsticks …
Sarnie heaven
I’m no fan of Subway sandwiches, or Quizno’s or any of the so-called fast food sandwich places that dot the American landscape.
It’s not that I don’t love sandwiches. I do. It’s just that every single deli sandwich I see here fails to live up to the standards of sarnies (translation: sandwiches) you can get in Britain.
Case in point: Pret a Manger, a chain sandwich shop in the UK.
Pret a Manger means Ready to Eat in French.
You run in and choose a sandwich, already boxed and ready to go, the cashier rings you up. Done!
The lengthiest part of that process is deciding whether you want the pole and line caught tuna and rocket (translation: arugula) or the topside of beef and watercress or the Moroccan falafel and humous. I love the variety of choices and the sometimes unexpected combination of ingredients.
Best of all, everything is made fresh on the premises that day. Quick. Inventive. Delicious.
It makes the menu at Subway look positively primeval.
Time Out’s Eating & Drinking Awards
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again – London is home to some of the best restaurants in the world and this week Time Out is highlighting the best of the bunch in their 2011 Eating & Drinking Awards!
Even better, they’ve posted all of their picks on their website.
This year’s categories include best new restaurant, best sushi bar, best new bar and best new cheap eats.
I’ve already bookmarked it for my next trip to the Big Smoke.
Does my butt look greedy in this?
Gordon Gekko has never been to a Hometown Buffet.
Greed is good. Gordon Gekko’s famous line from Wall Street still rings true in restaurants across the US.
When I first lived in the UK, I was struck by the concept of greed as it relates to food. I was at a Christmas party and the host had set out a delicious spread of food so guests could help themselves, buffet-style. A British woman in front of me commented on how greedy she was for trying a little of everything. Her plate was modest. She was slim. But still, this concept of greed overwhelmed her – or at least commonplace decency welled up, enough for her to make that comment.
Over the years, I’ve heard these kinds of comments over and over by Brits. Most Americans simply aren’t programmed to think this way. We think of greed in terms of money and possessions, but not in terms of eating too much or supersizing our meals. Gluttony may have been one of the seven deadly sins, but the message seems to have evaded our collective conscience.
I challenge you to visit any all-you-can-eat American restaurant like Golden Corral or Hometown Buffet in search of this distinctly British mentality. I can already guarantee there will be no such modesty and no apologies, aside from “I’m sorry that I couldn’t have made room for that second piece of cobbler” or “I’m sorry I didn’t wear my fat pants tonight” variety.
And the best Scotch egg is …
A few weeks ago I blogged about the upcoming Scotch egg challenge.
Well, last night was the night we were all waiting for. Scotch egg heads gathered at The Ship in Wandsworth to taste and then crown the best homemade Scotch egg. Without further adieu, let me congratulate The Devonshire Arms in Chiswick.
Behold the winning egg!
And the winning Scotch egg was from The Devonshire Arms in Chiswick!
I’ve never eaten a Scotch egg. Their mere sight, particularly when cold and purchased at a service station, makes me want to gag. But I love the look of that gooey yolk and crumbly breaded exterior.
I could be converted.
BRITRISH.COM 