Cultural Crimes

Chop Suey - a dish that doesn't exist in China. The word is a direct transliteration of 雜碎  which means miscellaneous left overs, randomly thrown together.  The story is that white folks approached Chinese railroad workers in California, wanting their food. So they got some. "What’s this dish?" . "Jaap sui".  The idea of CANNED leftover scraps is cultural  crime. Kind of explains some things.

Melon Soup, served in a carved melon

Not my pic, but too good not to share.  Soup made of winter melon, mushroom and herbs, served in a carved, hollowed out melon, base made out of melon too. 

Jell-o, an American Art Form

Anyone who's ever entertained or been entertained ins small town America has come across the thriving native art form - Jell-o creativity! A packet of gelatine can unleash the creative demon in the most unliberated suburban Mom. Pink, green, blue, purple, orange and sulphur yellow. Objects formed in strange moulds, sometime with even stranger moulds embedded within. The wackier the flavour combination, the better - Heston Blumenthal has noithing on this uncelebrity sisterhood.  HERE is an article about these unsung glories of the American kitchen. Europeans have no idea what they're missing !

Mainstrean creativity favours male dominated public genres, while women are relegated to the background. Literally, the kitchen. Obviously real equality would be better, but women made do with what they could.  Far from being entirely cowed women created their own sphere. Rozsika Parker's seminal book The Subversive Stitch : Embroidery and the Making of The Feminine first published in the early 1980's has now been reissued in a new edition. Needlework gave women an outlet when they had few others. When Ellen Orford sings "Embroidery in Childhood" in Peter Grimes, you realize how much her dreams, too, have been thwarted by society.

So celebrate the fine art of American jell-o salads and desserts - the ephemeral creations of decades of anonymous women doing what they could to brighten their lives and please those around them. Someone should document their wit and humour - families all round must have photos of some forgotten feast or clippings from magazines that taught "home craft".

Courtesy of a friend, a tribute to the Art of Jell-o by William Bolcom

Britten Beer Blythburgh Bacon

Aldeburgh at the weekend, celebrating Britten. If anything, Aldeburgh is even more atmospheric at this time of the year than in summer. The sea is wilder, and lonelier, and grey mists crowd in. Infinitely closer to the spirit of Peter Grimes than among crowds partying on the beach. The recent storm knocked out power lines and internet for two days, bringing Aldeburgh (almost) to what it once was. The storm was a reminder how fragile "civilization" really is, an observation that's fundamental to understanding Britten and his music.

Aldeburgh is also a foodie paradise. Every visit I stock up at Salter's the Family Butchers. They do mail order, too: I'm ordering my Xmas dinner from then online. Exceptional quality and service, everything free range  Support humane farming and small, local business enterprise. Beautifully hand cut joints, and sausages with proper flavour. And the best back bacon outside Canada. They also stock baked goods, fresh apple juice products and locally produced jams and condiments. This year I had bacon from the farms up near Blythburgh looking out towards the sea.

Suffolk is famous for beer, too. My usual is St Peter's Brewery from Bungay, further north, because it's extremely good, and stocked  by my local Waitrose.  Also available online and at their own pub in Clerkenwell, London.  My friends (and I)  love Adnam's Brewery and have made pilgrimages to Southwold and dined at The Anchor at Walberswick with  a garden that slopes down to the reedbeds. This year Adnams is doing "Native Britten" beers. The bottles come in 3 colours but the beer is the same basic house variety. St Peter's and Adnam's both sell online. Ideal Christmas presents. St Peter's probably has the edge on classy, since they use traditional, small scale brewing practices.

Picnic time at the opera

At last it's summer ! At last picnics at country house operas will be fun - warmth, sunshine, glorious gardens.  It's Regatta week and Wimbledon, too. This year I treated myself to new picnic plates at the shop at Garsington Opera Wormsley and of course used them at Glyndebourne, too. These one are proper enamel, not plastic, designed by Emma Bridgewater. They're sturdy, but surprisingly easy to carry. They "feel" like real plates but should last ages. And only £6 each, about the same price as decent melamine. At Glyndebourne, there's a £500 golf caddy which must be nice to push on grass, but the plates and glasses inside are very basic clear plastic. But it's a great talking point !

I don't do clear plastic except for glasses. Waitrose does an excellent  range, wineglasses of different sizes, champagne flutes, hi ball glasses usw. which feel classy and look like the real thing. Coloured plastic is not my scene even as post modern irony, though I have a wonderful 50's glass tumbler that screams "Gold Coast, Queensland". It's so kitsch it's a treasure. After years of feeding small children, I don't do fussy food. But I do like "civilized" picnic ware that's not pretentious. With nice, light plates and glasses, you can use real cutlery without having to lug a bivouac. There's no substitute for real cutlery! Though you could do all-sushi with decent chopsticks.

Cream Teas I have known

 Cream Teas are Great British Tradition, the sign of an English Summer (rain and cold notwithstanding). These scones look particularly nice, and the jam has fruits in it.  You can imagine that they're fresh baked, and still warm. Prerhaps this jam smelled like strawberries. It must have been a memorable treat. Many thanks to Ibán Yarza for this wonderful photo, much appreciated.

When cream teas are good, they're very, very good, but when they're bad they are horrible. So the eternal quest for a perfect cream tea. Perhaps closest to ideal are the cream teas at Glyndebourne (Leiths). They're firm on the outside, but the texture inside is moist and not too crumbly. Almost as creamy as the cream!  In theory, you should be able to taste the flour and butter used in the mix. Good scones should not be sweet, so they don't mask the flavour of the cream or jam. Needless to say, the cream should be clotted, and  the jam more fruit than sugar, ideally made in small batches by someone who cares.The one in the photo looks like it's made with less solidifiers than commercial products would be. That's the sign of a good jam, where you can taste natural freshness instead of assitives (and sugar).

Today I found another good cream tea at the Cragg Sisters' Tea Room, 110 High Street Aldeburgh. (opposite Salters Family Butchers, of whom more here). It's a few metres from Crag House,where Benjamin Britten lived from 1947. In fact, you can exit the shop through the garden straight onto Crabbe Street. This tiny nook of Aldeburgh is true Britten territory. Peter Grimes was written in the upstairs seafront room in Crag House, which faces the open seas. The first Aldeburgh Music Festivals centred around Jubilee Hall, where some events still happen (like last summer's retro Albert Herring). Cragg Sisters Tea Shop was founded in 1949, though the current management is new, so chances are Britten knew the original shop.

Cragg Sisters bake their own scones and cakes, which is why they're so nice. The shop is very pretty, floral tablecloths, crochet doileys, antiques and crockery that doesn't match, which is much more stylish than fake retro. Parts of Aldeburgh are becoming Sloane Square-by-Sea, or Essex North, but this area is still original and unique. Make this part of any Britten pilgrimage. See The Cragg Sisters' website, which is as pretty and individual as the shop. They're doing good savouries too, and special events like a local produce feast on 30 June. Dining out in Aldeburgh can be disappointing unless you eat only seafood and like to spend ostentatiously, so I.m going back to Cragg Sisters for lunches, too.
TOMORROW : Oliver Knussen's operas Where the Wild Things Are and Higgelty Pigglety Pop.. and his excellent concert with the Scottish Chamber Orchestra.

Les rosbifs : English Exotics

"When mighty Roast Beef was the Englishman's food, It ennobled our brains and enriched our blood, Our soldiers were brave and our courtiers were good. Oh! the Roast Beef of old England and old English Roast Beef! "

"But since we have learnt from all-vapouring France to eat their ragouts as well as to dance,We're fed up with nothing but vain complaisance.  Oh! the Roast Beef of Old England, and old English Roast Beef!"

Springtime brings blossom and gambolling lambs. So what does one do? Eat the lambs. For anthropological research I ventured to a typical English Pub in the Oxfordshire countryside. Pretty garden, a horse tethered at the gate, two friendly black labradors at the back, who could smell the roast beef, lamb and chicken emanating from the kitchen.

The Unicorn is Victorian, a quarter mile from Anthony Worrall Thompson's Greyhound but the food is often just as good and the atmosphere more informal. So for the first time in decades, I ate an English Sunday Roast. It was infinitely better than the one in the photo, which was taken in 2005 elsewhere. The Unicorn's Yorkshire pudding almost covers the whole plate and is delicious - a meal in itself. I could get used to that. The Unicorn's vegetables are better too - fine beans, broccoli properly cooked al dente, not boiled to mush, and crisp, sweet carrots. My friend's dish was so good, he ate every atom. He's English, it's his native duty!

I haven't eaten English (or Welsh) lamb since around 1983 when I discovered, by sheer chance, the Walnut Tree in Abergavenny before it became a foodie magnet. Persian roasts, Lebanese dishes, kebabs, Mongol lamb stew but no Sunday Roast Lamb that I can remember. The Unicorn's special Sunday lunches are famous bercause they're so good and so generous. Home made mint sauce, too. But maybe English fare is too exotic for me. Still, the starter was excellent too - new asparagus from Worcester with ham hock, rocket and baby beans. And rosewater and raspberry cheesecake! Maybe I'm European at heart.