Journal of a Food Sybarite

Pre-Christmas foodie stress

2008-12-23T17:17:00.008Z

Sometimes, I think, it is possible to have too much of a good thing and Christmas seems to fit perfectly into this category. On the one hand, the 'pluses' are apparent: prezzies galore, over-indulging because you can (and because it is the 'done' thing given the fact that no other excuse is better than the 'festive' period), spending time with family and friends (which, on occasion, can be a bit of a double-edged sword)and for somebody like myself who is obsessed about food, it must be absolute heaven, right? Well, partly so...I absolutely adore entertaining but the excitement of the myriad of possible dishes I could offer sometimes gets too much and I feel like I want to hang in the towel and say: let's get an Indian! Thankfully, we came up with a cunning plan this year in order to please everyone and avoid over-exhaustion but the shopping, planning and tidying up still left me pretty shattered...I don't know how some people with huge families to feed do it, really as it was only four of us and it certainly felt like an enormous amount of work compared to the quickness with which everyone gulped it down! But I have to admit that I was pretty pleased with my efforts and those of my lovely fellow chef and partner in crime (i.e. Mike). Together we rustled up the following Xmas menu:

Starter

Home made empanadas (two per person: one filled with creamy sweetcorn, spices, and raisins and the other with buffalo mozzarella, basil, sundried tomatoes and olives)served with green leaves

Main

Roast Duck and pheasant served with a red wine and plum sauce (delicious!), roasted potatoes and parsnips, sweet potato mash and steamed broccoli and leeks

Dessert

White chocolate and mascarpone cheesecake erved with a warm dulce de leche sauce (scrumptious)

I made the starter and dessert and Mike took care of the main (with a little creative input from me). It was even better than I'd imagined it would be and I can still taste all three courses (I've got an expanding wastline to remind me of them too!)

In the evening we had cheeses, crackers, Branston pickle and tomato chutney (homemade and given to us as a present by a friend). We were certainly stuffed but with a gleeful feeling of 'mission accomplished' to match.

Here are some pictures of the food that speak louder than any number of words.

Happy New Year and here's to lots of gorgeous meals coming our way in 2009!

Brick Lane and the orgasmic virtues of a good curry...

2008-12-11T12:23:00.005Z

It was ages since I had last been to Brick Lane (and for a foodie, I am ashamed to say that I have yet to visit the market on Sundays which, I am told, is something else...) so meeting up with María, my Spanish friend, last Wednesday presented the perfect occasion as she is quite mad about food herself and especially spicy, authentic Indian/Sri Lankan/Pakistani/Bangladeshi curries. After some research online, we decided to try the much raved-about Gram Bangla. As pointed out by many, from the outside it looks like any old greasy spoon but once you enter and check out the counter, it is a whole different story. 6 or 7 simple yet gorgeous dishes to choose from (and thankfully, helpful staff to decipher the lot for you in lay terms). We shared a portion of lamb curry, one of vegetable curry, some basmati rice and a type of bread similar to a chapati but thicker (he said the name twice but neither of us could make heads nor tails of it!) This is what fast food should be like...delicious, wholesome, filled with fresh ingredients (not a processed thing in sight) and ridiculously cheap! We paid less than £6 each for that feast and left with the undescribable feeling of warmth and happiness that only great food can ever provide.

As I had plenty of time to kill before catching my train back to my suburban parallel existence, I decided to venture into the marvellous universe of Bangla City and what a colourful dimension that is. If money and weight of goodies were no object, I would have probably done one of those supermarket sweeps from those ghastly, naff 80's shows but instead of Bisto, Beans and ready meals, mine would have been packed with a million different types of spices, rice and condiments. Considering the circumstances, I think I did pretty well...after examining every single item on offer drooling and panting as I went along imagining the many flavoursome combinations possible, I forcibly packed myself off with a few bags of spices and some poppadoms. From that moment and until Friday evening, I could not stop mentally projecting the curry I was going to create and I have to say that it certainly paid off as my homemade chicken tikka masala with sag aloo, coconut-infused basmati rice and just-out-of-the-oven freshly made naan bread was just the ticket. I think I was on a high for quite some time from inhaling the aroma of multiple spices sizzling and simmering whilst the cooking was taking place.

And now it's the Christmas menu to think of...We are having a dual celebration at home so more food to plan! The Christmas Eve dinner is entirely my responsibility so I'm thinking of something quite light to leave room for the inevitable stuffing (and I don't mean the turkey's) on the 25th. Christmas Day will be roast duck and pheasant with all the trimmings prepared by my better half and the starter and dessert provided by yours truly. I'm thinking of making some Argy-style empanadas to start with and a decadent dessert with loads of dulce de leche to top it all off in style. As Nigella would say, this is no time for restraint...although I cannot say I am very familiar with the meaning of that word at any time of year but hey...Christmas is the perfect excuse to throw caution to the wind and indulge without thinking about the ensuing pangs of guilt and tight waistlines as there will be plenty of time to tackle those or other new excuses not to so what's the point anyway? For me, a merry Christmas is one with lots of scrumptious home-made food to share with your nearest and dearest and this is the only religion I swear by as it certainly lifts my spirits and fills my heart (and stomach) with utter joy...

Christmas has exploded all over us

2008-12-05T09:45:00.004Z

It never ceases to amaze me how early the 'Christmas brand' starts being brandished about in the UK in order to, in one way or another, get people into the 'spirit' which ultimately lures them into the mother of all modern activities: consumption galore. This year, more than ever, shops are desperate for our custom in order to make up for the slump in the economy so Christmas is, literally and metaphorically, a God-send; the perfect excuse to achieve that golden goal of persuading shoppers to buy unnecessary things spending more than they set out to do. Hence the abundance of 'buy one get 1 half-price'; ' buy 1 for £1.50, two for £2' and other marketing techniques that, we have to admit, manage to successfully dupe us into thinking we are getting a bargain when, in actual fact, we are probably buying stuff we wouldn't get if these 'offers' weren't shoved in our faces. The thing is, deep down, we know we spend too much and we know there will be lots of food uneaten and presents unused...However, and especially in times of crisis, we cling on to any excuse that can suspend disbelief for a while and pretend all is well so long as fridge is packed full of nice food, the tree shiny and surrounded by prezzies and all terrestrial worries pushed aside at least until the New Year...

I guess for the Christians, Christmas can be a bit of a bittersweet time. On the one hand, they are probably pleased that the birth of Christ has become so mainstream and widely celebrated by most in one way or another (albeit for some, just through buying presents for friends who do celebrate it or partaking in the office Christmas dos). On the other, many are unhappy about the fact that the 'true' meaning of Christmas has somewhat been diluted and 'commodified' into a feast of all things commercial which, clearly, goes against the Christian tenets. But, unfortunately, that is the price to pay for being the 'dominant' religion as far as the Western world is concerned. You cannot have one without the other and as the Western 'ideals' are so intertwined with consumerism, anything and everything becomes part and parcel of this modality. For me, as you probably have guessed by now, it is a great time as, for once, the UK is full of Christmas markets with lots of lovely foods that I normally wouldn't buy (being quite the thrifty type) but now you can't really deny yourself pleasure over the festivities, can you?

So yesterday I was in London again and as the friend I was supposed to meet up with took a rain-check (her words, not mine..you know who you are missy!), I found myself with all this time in my hands, a gorgeous day (no rain by the way) and a very Christmassy London. As my Argy friend is coming over to visit this weekend, I was determined to get some dulce de leche without which no Argy get-together could ever be complete. In case you don't know what it is, well...you haven't lived! It's not too late, though so I'd strongly suggest you try it but if you become an addict, it wasn't me! There are loads of blogs, sites and, yes, Facebook groups (surprise, surprise) devoted to the stuff and it is easy to see why...As I wandered around Borough Market taking in all those lovely sights and smells, I was looking down and suddenly my eyes stumbled upon some Argentinian empanadas...as I looked up I realised that I had come to find the Argy stall full of goodies from back home including the above-mentioned elixir! And not just any brand (there are loads) but one of the poshest, nicest ones...As I was rummaging through my purse to find the £6 for a kilo of my 'fix' my fellow compatriot, the stallholder, announced that it was £5 for Argies! As I said to him, it must have been the first time in my life that I'd ever felt at an advantage for being from Argyland and what better reason than to purchase the divine antidepressant commonly known as dulce de leche? I will definetely be going back to the stall whenever I'm next in the area or in desperate need of some home comforts.

After that, I walked all along the South and North banks from London Bridge to Victoria, admiring the beautifully-lit trees, the German Christmas market, a jazz band playing 'Sex Bomb' and other cheesy hits (funnily enough, it sounded fantastic), a bagpipe player and the stunning sunset over the Thames. After my previous experience in London when Sod's Law seemed to have been invented just to spite me, this time I was reminded of the reasons why it can be such a great place to be, especially around Christmas.

Fellow society of food fanatics

2008-11-26T15:49:00.003Z

I have recently discovered panacea; the holy grail of food madness; the confirmation that I am not as crazy as I thought (or rather, shall I say, that I am certainly not special or unique in my obsession). My religion is food and the temple where I worship is called Chowhound! I never knew so many foodies existed under one same 'virtual' roof and that they not only share my passion for food but also the feelings of inadequacy when faced with people that do not give a damn about what they put in their bodies and mouths. There are as many discussion threads about food as are possibly imaginable (and those I never thought about are there too) and debates can get quite heated, disagreements abound but always with the common knowledge and understanding of food as the driving force in life. Needless to say, I have lately been spending more time than it would be advisable on these forums and I can honestly say that I have found the only form of religion I feel I can believe in!

One of the discussion threads on the site was asking what people thought was the least interesting local cuisine in the world. And no; as tempted as I might have been to chip in with my views on British food, I actually felt quite sorry about the fact that many of those who took part readily chose it as the worst. I think I abstained out of respect for my host country, however uninspired and basic I feel its fare to be.

On a different (but not so different) note, the weekend went really well. The baby was the nicest, best-behaved, most adorable thing ever (and I found myself helplessly cooing over him like an idiot!), we had a very good time with our friends and, most important of all, my food went down a treat! It'd been a while since I'd last heard so many 'yums' and 'ohhhs' and 'ahhhs' during and after dinner and, as you know, practically nothing fills me with more joy than making people happy by serving them good food (I think my Jewish roots have a lot to answer for here, although they must have skipped a few generations because neither my grandma nor my mum were ever particularly interested in cooking). The menu was as follows:

Lunch: Turkey fajitas with melted manchego cheese (the turkey had been marinaded in spices and other juices for 24 hours) served with homemade guacamole, homemade refried beans, salad and corn on the cob.

Dinner: Mushroom and leek risotto with roasted garlic and cherry tomatoes, served with grated fresh mozzarella and fresh basil and bruschettas in Irish brown bread and white cuntry-style bread with goats cheese and garlic.

Dessert: Homemade wholewheat date and walnut cake with warm dulce de leche on top.

The shopping, prepping and cooking was quite laborious but the results were more than worth the effort! And I'm off to devise the menu for this next weekend as Mike's best friend is staying with us for four days and he is a veggie which gives me a great chance to indulge in my love of vegetarian creations without complaints from my better half...

Of going to London and having visitors

2008-11-20T09:45:00.004Z

I know it's an old cliché but as of late, more than ever before, the fact that I am getting older and, er, wiser (ehem) has hit home big time. Looking back on the last few years and as much as I spent quite some time in Argyland travelling, walking, hiking and camping (where did I get the energy from? I wonder), given the choice and the opportunity I just love spending hours at home simply 'pottering around' (the Britishness of this word scares me...) I've still some way to go as far as achieving domestic goddess status (not that I would ever aspire to be labelled in such a trite, ridiculous way anyway), namely:

- I am not bothered by chores unless I can't get out of them (it's amazing how many perfectly reasonable excuses there are to put them off);
- I have zero gardening skills or knowledge. Having grown up in an urban cement jungle, the furthest I ever got with regards contact with 'nature' was watering the plants in my mum's balcony (and overflowing the pots!) and doing one of those experiments for school where I had to plant a seed in a jar and make sure it sprung properly (again, mum to the rescue).

But, as excessively and obsessively well documented on this blog, somewhere along the way I have become what might be called a 'foodie', although I object to the implications of this word which, in my eyes, are intertwined with poncy, pretentious gourmet, molecular, over-priced and overrated chefs with egoes the size of a small country. The web has given me an outlet in which I have found that a lot of people out there are as insane as I am, thinking of food 24/7 and easily spending hours each day looking at it, imagining it, preparing it and even dreaming about it! If somebody'd told me a few years ago that I would become so passionate about food, I would have laughed in their face...

I was never exactly a 'party girl'. By British standards, I was practicaly a nun! The most I had were a couple of drinks every so often, I never ever tried drugs or smoked (however, I stupidly did take up smoking well after 20 but thankfully it's over and out now) and I went out and had fun in very civilised ways...not like the kids today and their raunchy antics! (and thinking like this is another reason why I'm definetely getting old).

The truth is I am happy living in a quiet, leafy town with just enough movement to satisfy the need for shops/contact with human beings if needed but also plenty of empty, green, beautiful areas where you can wonder around alone without interference, noise, traffic or any of the ailments of modern urban life. I was painfully reminded of how different my life is now to what it was some time ago yesterday when I had to go to London to get some immigraton advice (which after hours of waiting, I never got!). It's the second time in about a month that I have had to go and I always see this as a chance to catch up with friends which I really look forward to...Unfortunately, I am way too optimistic and I obviously do not remember what travelling in London is actually like! The train was delayed (surprise, surprise); I ran to my destination (via two lines of underground) and when trying to find the number 190 on Great Dover Street, it turns out that it is not on the side of the even numbers (as it should!!! Am I right?) but with the odd numbers...How ridiculous is that? By the time I realised that I was walking in the wrong direction and I got back to where I was supposed to go (which, incidentaly, was right opposite the station, staring me in the face!) I was over half an hour late which meant I got the last number and had to wait nearly 3 hours to be seen! When I finaly did (because I pushed my way in) I did not have a recent bank statement and they said they couldn't see me! In a hot panic, I ran to the bank only to be met with another queue, then dashed back sweating and panting to finally be told that I had to pay anyway and that I would get an appointment to come again...By now, I had been forced to cancel my coffee rendezvous with a friend and was left to kill off 2 hours until getting the train back at off-peak time to avoid paying the extortionate fares they would otherwise charge me for the privilege...Needless to say, I got home stressed, famined (I could not eat until almost 5pm!) and in desperate need of a whole day to recover mentally and physically from the ordeal. London's absolutely brilliant for food choices, touristy attractions and the immense pleasure of knowing that you are going back home after visiting it, wherever that might be but certainly not there!

By the way, I've got a family of three visiting this weekend! They are staying over with a baby (adorable and all but still: a real baby!) and I'm starting to panic thinking what to cook for lunch, dinner and then lunch again...I don't want to go overboard and yet I'd like to make something special...So far, I've narrowed it down to about 5 options! Help....Off to do some more research, then shopping, then prepping...Domestic moi?

Recent culinary forays

2008-11-13T14:41:00.005Z

Not the best pictures or the most sophisticated of dishes but, hey, I spent quite some time making them and the results were pretty well-received so here are two recent pictures of last week's dinners chez moi: the first one is my polenta bruschettas with veg, passatta and buffalo mozzarella and the second, my version of oven-baked Spanish tortilla. Yum!

Bad Food Nation

2008-11-13T11:38:00.024Z

I've been doing some research on the nature of British food habits and found some very interesting excerpts from a book that I remember hearing about when it first came out a while ago. The author is Joanna Blythman and it makes for a fascinating, riveting read. On "Bad Food Britain: How a Nation Ruined Its Appetite", published in 2006, she delves deep into the root causes of the unhealthy, bland grub that Britons eat and how these lazy habits are driving the population into an early grave.

Some of the depressing statistics she resorts to in order to illustrate her points are, for instance, that one out of every three Britons say they do not eat vegetables because they require too much effort to get ready. Hence the incredible preponderance of convenience, ready-made, boil-in-the-bag, do not lift a finger-type food that only in this country could occupy such a large chunk of the supermarket. This is meant to be the result of the ever-perpetrated myth (which I've heard so often and yet, in every single place I have worked at struggled to see any evidence of) that Britain has the longest working hours in Europe. As Ms Blythman points out, official data shows the average length of the working week in Britain for all occupations, both full and part-time, fell to 31.8 hours in July 2004, the lowest on record. Thus, she concludes, it is not so much that Britons do not have time to cook but rather, that they do not see cooking as a good use of their time (as opposed to drinking which seems to be the favourite British passtime for which, somewhow, there is always time).

It is quite striking that so many people will think nothing of spending hours tending to a garden whilst heating up some processed frozen junk in the microwave. A lot of people I known or have known in the past see cooking as 'boring', 'tiring', 'difficult', etc because they are so far removed from a direct relationship with ingredients that they have lost all track of how they can be handled and turned into a meal without a manual. Relying on instinct, as most cooks do, is a completely foreign concept as they grow up with boiled vegetables and baked meat covered in butter or gravy. Anything else must be difficult so why bother?

Ms Blythman even has the nerve to have a dig at the sacred British roast which, to be honest, is something that exist in lots of countries and is generally associated with basic fare: put some meat in the oven as well as veg, let it cook and eat! Before I get a tirade of abuse, I do like roasts (especially what to me is the best bit about it because it is uniquely British: the Yorkshire pudding) but I think most of their merit resides in the quality of the produce and I have to confess that the first time that I actually had a decent roast was when I met my partner Mike (who takes pride in his). Before that, I had only experienced the straight-from-frozen variety of Auntie Bessy's Yorkshires AND roast potatoes, frozen peas and carrots with no dressing and frozen chicken or turkey plus jars of processed sauces which, in my book, rather than a meal it was a barely edible assembly of joyless rubbish.

Still on the subject of roasts, Ms Blythman goes on to say that: "...there's nothing quite like Bisto to evoke the mood of a traditional British roast dinner. The product comes in a jolly orange tub showing a mouth-watering golden roast chicken, flanked with green beans and roast potatoes.The only thing is, it does not contain any chicken at all, being a mixture of potato starch, maltodextrin, hydrogenated oil, salt, wheatflour, flavourings, colours, flavour enhancers, sugar, emulsifiers, spice, herb and vegetable extracts. Still, it's no fuss ? and it's quick". In a nutshell, the 'I can't believe it's not chicken' chicken gravy encompasses the whole approach to food that has prevailed in this country for way too long. An Italian, Spaniard, Greek Mexican, Chinese, Indian person (and the list could go on almost to include most countries on the planet but you know what I mean) will think nothing, and genuinely take pride in, spending hours preparing their own sauces, dressings and meals, sourcing good produce and thoroughly deriving pleasure and joy out of the process as much, if not more, than the actual culmination of eating the results. If a Brit would actually consider that heating up some chicken in the oven and pouring a ready-made sauce (heated up in the microwave...less washing up to do!) over it is making a meal. My heart weeps for the poor chickens, turkeys and others who had to die only to end up being served in such a pathetic fashion.

Ms Blythman is obviously a very unusual British person who is actually capable of acknowledging how awful the food culture in this country is. As she eloquently puts it herself: "Not the least of our current troubles is our inability to admit that something is wrong. Like an alcoholic who can't accept that he or she has a drink problem, Britain is in denial that it has a Bad Food problem." Ask the majority of Brits what they think about their food and they will defend a plate of overcooked meat with boiled, unseasoned veg slathered in processed gravy as a delicacy! You have to respect the fact that they were brought up on it and indoctrination is one of the most powerful forces to contend with. It takes a very open, self-critical mind to actually question what you were given as gospel even if the evidence pointing to its deficiencies is overwhelming.

The reason why it is necessary to do so is because there is no denying that the British staple diet is extremely unhealthy. This is one of the nasty consequences of early industrialisation. Whilst the Brits were expanding their Empire, feeling rather smug in comparison to those they subjected, in actul fact people in the colonies had, and still have (although, thankfully they are not under the Empire's thumb anymore) a direct relationship and utter respect for their source of nourishment.

In Britain, the industrial revolution and the post-war rations have wreaked havoc with the nation's diet, with food becoming a casualty of the process of mass-production using cheap, chemically altered ingredients and fattening, tasteless ones that were provided in post-war times to keep people going through the hardships such as butter, fatty meats and root vegetables that were easy to preserve and full of calories when times of deprivation and manual labour called for it.

In this day and age, wher the vast majority of us work in offices and do little exercise, the need for that type of food is nearly non-existent and the fact that it is still so prevalent explains, partly, some of the urgent health problems on the rise such as obesity. Alongside her 'first ally' (in war and, apparently, in food as well), America, Britain is leading the way when it comes to junk. It is somewhat ironic how indirectly proportional the quality and knowledge of food is to the supposed progress and advancement of these countries in the world scene.

The book also mentions the national obsession with butter and margarine although the latter has been proven to be one of the worst sources of bad fats. Butter, in moderation, is not bad for you and most countries use it in one way or another to make some of their essential dishes. In India, ghee (clarified butter) is used in many dishes but generally in very small amounts. Most cakes and desserts are made with butter but, again, they are not meant to be consumed everyday but rather, on special occasions or weekends. Margarine, on the contrary, has been marketed as a 'healthy' alternative when in reality it is full of trans and hydrogenated fats proven to be detrimental to the heart, among other things. However, the marketing by the margarine giants, Unilever, has been so clever and persuasive over the years that Brits are actually convinced that it is 'good for you' to spread Flora in lieu of condiments or other spreads over potatoes, toast and all sorts of perfectly nice foods in their own right which see their nutriotional value and taste ruined in the process. Here are some very interesting facts about margarine and butter:

- Both have the same amount of calories

- Butter is slightly higher in saturated fats at 8 grams compared to 5 grams

- Eating margarine can increase heart disease in women by 53% over eating the same amount of butter, according to a recent Harvard Medical study

- Butter has many nutritional benefits where margarine has a few and only because they are artificially added

- Butter tastes much better than margarine

- Butter has been around for centuries where margarine has been around for less than 100 years

- Margarine is very high in trans fatty acids, it increases the risk of coronary heart disease threefold; it increases ttal cholesterol and LDL (bad cholesterol) lowering HDL or 'good' cholesterol; it increases the risk of several cancers up to five times; it lowers the quality of breast milk; it decreases immune response and insulin response and last but not least, it is only one molecule away from being plastic!

Margarine manufacturers are only too aware of the crap they sell, hence the unrelenting marketing campaign focusing on the 'lowering cholesterol' fake properties (cholesterol comes from animal fats so it makes no sense that you would need more saturated and hydrogenated fats to help lower it!), using celebrities extolling the virtues of foods covered in the stuff and the like. The same concept applies to many food products such as processed cheeses, tins and cans, sausages, etc that Brits consume without even thinking of what goes inside them.

The government with their patronising '5 a day' and traffic light signals makes matters even worse. Eating healthily should come naturally from birth and at home; imposing it will have exactly the opposite effect to that one desired as telling people off breeds rebellion. The only way forward is a slow-burning change which will only come with the realisation of how bad things are and a collective effort that will hopefully spread widely enough for the new generations to learn to appreciate, seek and get indoctrinated in good food. Only people like Jamie and Gillian Mc Keith (the latter so easy to dismiss and despise; the former, derided anyway) seem to be publicly spear-heading the move for change in Britain's eating habits. It beggars belief that until Jamie made it his personal mission to tackle school dinners, the parents were only too happy to have their kids being fed turkey twizzlers and chips every day when, as Jamie himself proved when he took the nasty crap to Italy and gave it to some Italian dinner ladies to try, they could not comprehend that such a thing would be actually fed to kids anywhere on the planet, let alone in a supposedly 'developed' nation like this one.

There is always a fear of coming across as pontificating or preachy but it is a risk worth taking when it boils down to something as essential and crucial as good food and the many remifications that derive from it.

Election delight and food traumas

2008-11-09T14:14:00.014Z

First and foremost, no self-respecting breathing human being on this planet at this point in time could go on with their business without mentioning the incredibly momentous event we were fortunate enough to witness a few days ago which, unbelievably enough, has managed to wipe off cynical smirks off the faces of many a professional skeptic in political matters (such as yours truly). Obama's victory struck a chord with people of all nationalities, creeds, race and backgrounds as he epitomises what most of us suspected existed but never quite got round to see much evidence of it: an intelligent, articulate, level-headed, decent, open-minded, progressive, mesmerising politician and an American at that! It has been particularly easy to give in to the stereotype perpetuated by a vast range of examples of American idiocy and thirst for world domination, especially after 8 years of the Bush administration that managed to eradicate any respect for America that could have existed anywhere on the planet. The fact that Obama is mixed race is, of course, a huge deal in a country where many living citizens are still haunted by memories of segregation and plagued by everyday racist attitudes. But it is not solely about a black man being the first ever president of the most powerful country in the world but also, that somebody with apparently few connections, little backing from the 'establishment', young and liberal could ignite such passion and enthusiasm within and outside his country's borders; that people would reach into their own pockets and give up their own time to campaign and canvass for him; that Americans themselves would be shaken and challenged in what they believed possible; that people from every walk of life would come under one banner and one cause and that, against all the odds, when most of the world had given up hope, a real change actually did happen.

It is too significant to fathom and I wish I could travel to the future and read the history books that children will be taught in 2050 to fully grasp the impact this event will have in the world scene when, hopefully, one day kids will read in disbelief about a time when a black Western president was considered a novelty and a breakthrough. All I can say is that I am excited to be part of it and, for the first time ever, to have cried tears of joy over the results of an election.

On a different note altogether and moving onto the second part of this post's title, my relationship with food is certainly not a smooth ride in any shape or form which is one of the long-lasting consequences of my upbringing. I wouldn't recommend growing up in Argentina and especially not in Buenos Aires to anybody. It is a ruthless place where striving to be thin is the national sport and it is deeply ingrained in the minds of women (men, as always, get away with murder) stemming from the family, school, TV, magazines, etc. Attractiveness, success, the possibility of being loved and wanted are all intertwined with being thin. What I've noticed since I was able to leave this toxic environment and experience other cultures is that, yes, the aspirations of being thinner exist pretty much everywhere. However, in most places, there is a separation between reality and fiction: stars are paid to be skinny, so are models and people might admire them and aspire to be fitter but not to the point of emulating them. For instance, take Mexico (where I lived for almost 4 years) and the UK where I have been living for even longer. In Mexico, people love watching their soaps which are exclusively populated by thin, blonde, blue-eyed pale looking actors who look nothing at all like 99% of Mexicans. They know this but, somehow, it is part of make-believe: you know it is something you would never be nor could aspire to be and watch it as a bit of harmless escapism to be confined to the realm of television.

In the UK, the difference is that people on TV and magazines are, surprisingly, not all thin or traditionally pretty which, I think, is a fantastic thing. Examples are plentiful and across a wide variety of programs. You could never say that British soaps are populated by the likes of Kate Moss lookalikes which is absolutely refreshing as people can actually see themselves reflected in the characters. Also, what struck me the most when I arrived here is that the average size for a woman is a 16 and a 12 is considered slim whereas back in Argyland if you are a size 12, you will most likely get categorised as a bit on the chubby side. Unbelievable but true. Unfortunately and however much rationality one can consciously apply to these matters, traumas have a sneaky way of tricking your mind into reverting to your most vulnerable and certain situations trigger the most child-like reactions. Mentions of food can be a source of absolute joy and passion and turn into a dagger in a nanosecond...I am an over-sensitive cow, I know, but years of bullying, taunting and self-doubt have left a huge mark which I'm still trying to erase. My partner, Mike, does his utmost to reassure me and help me through it but sometimes nothing works...they are resilient little bastards those childhood traumas! But I am determined to win the fight and not allow food to be associated with the darker side of Argentinian neuroses. On that note, for all of you who, as myself, view food as 'porn', you cannot miss the following link: www.tastepotting.com The word orgasmic doesn't even begin to encompass the sensations it arises in me! Now that's what I call proper titillation...What do you reckon?

Finally back into the 'real' world...

2008-10-23T11:41:00.008+01:00

After a long hiatus, courtesy of the folk at BT who never cease to strive for the best customer service (God knows what the worst one would be like!), I have had no internet connection until yesterday evening, three weeks after we originally requested it. Anyway, I will not go on and on about their stupidity because I am sure you'll catch my drift and because, quite frankly, they don't deserve any more attention or publicity (good or bad). Needless to say, I am well and truly chuffed and have found it hard to extricate myself from the screen for the past few hours other than going to the loo or making myself a few cups of tea. The truth is that the 'real' world seems to exist online these days: staying in touch with friends and family, researching about food, reading the papers and the list is endless. To do all of this without browsing the net would imply lots of time and money and it still wouldn't cover all of the angles and details that are available instantly at the click of a mouse. It might be a sad state of affairs but it is life as we know it and I make no excuses when I say that I feel like the life's been injected back into my veins.

I've been eagerly watching 'The Restaurant' on BBC2 which sadly ended last Wednesday. It is such a brilliant format, much like 'The Apprentice' but with food and instead of the fake-tough geezer Alan Sugar, a French luvvie super chef whose ridiculously thick accent after living in the UK for ages adds a little bit of an exotic flare to the mix. The editing is genius too and the way in which most of them get it monumentally wrong time and time again makes for top TV! I was chuffed about the fact that Russell and Michelle won as they were the ones who did consistently well throughout the series as opposed to James and Alistair who would show occasional signs of greatness but constant stupidity and lack of common sense so it was good riddance to them after all and now there is a huge void in my TV viewing schedule as Jamie's last odyssey is over too! I am left with meat-obsessed Hugh Fearnley-Wittingstall and his River Cottage (yawn) or ego-maniac Gordon Ramsay and his one million and a half simultaneous programs on every channel between new ones, repeats, interviews and annoying marketing stunts of which he is the undisputed king. Thank Goodness for the web and its wonderful food-laden wonders.

As for my own recent cooking incursions, here's a picture of my homemade squash and ricotta gnocchi that I made (unwittingly) on the 29th which is, to us Argies, traditionally gnocchi day. For a first attempt, I though I did myself quite proud...

Cheesed off and cut off...

2008-10-15T12:03:00.002+01:00

This is going to be a brief entry as I find myself at a cafe with Wi-Fi where I have finally dragged my frustrated ass after realising that the ineptitude of BT knows no bounds! Not only did they fail to deliver our order for the home internet package but, much to our disbelief, such order was not even registered in the first place! And although we had spoken to them before and they had promised to track the problem down and contact us to let us know what was going on, needless to say this did not materialise and we only found the ridiculous truth after spending an hour on the phone being pushed from pillar to post between several incarnations of inefficiency squared...Anyway, I will upload some stuff I wrote at home next time I come as I've been baking and cooking a bit to keep me from going mental! (you might be wondered whether I've succeeded and to be honest, I am not so sure!) I'll be back from my state of 'incomunicado' soon...bear with me!

'Minister' Jamie and his utopian enterprise

2008-10-02T10:58:00.008+01:00

Last Tuesday, and after much build-up and anticipation (I'd been crossing the days on the calendar like a prisoner), Mr Pukka Chef Extraordinnaire, Jamie Oliver, came back into our screens with his new 'revolutionary' idea, Jamie's Ministry of Food, whereby, he thought, a domino effect could be ignited in one town by teaching 8 people how to cook 10 simple recipes so that each of them would in turn teach two more and so on and so forth in order to ultimately achieve the 'delusional' goal of turning Rotherham (one of the most characteristically deprived British towns) into a foodie stronghold. Yes, you've guessed it...It was a recipe but for disaster! The concept should be very simple and relatively easy to implement, you would think...Well, think again! These people's complete and utter disregard for real food, their lack of knowledge and interest in their nourishment and their complete addiction to convenience and quick-fix artificial takeaways was, even for Jamie, quite shocking (and he is one of the most vocal critics of this country's food culture so he should be pretty much unshockable at this stage!).

He started out with Julie, the infamous lady who 'campaigned' against Jamie's school dinners by pushing burgers and chips through the railings at her son's school. Need I say more? As most of her fellow Brits, her idea of a good home-cooked meal was fatty meat and potatoes slathered in gravy. Oh Dear...But the irony was that, compared to his other 'Guinea pigs' Julie could be described as Cordon Bleu! The most heart wrenching story of them all was a young mum of 2 who had never, ever cooked a meal for her kids and survived on greasy takeaways that they would eat sitting on the floor with their bare hands. However, she defied the stereotype because from the outset and as soon as she laid her hands on real ingredients and got to grips with Jamie's foolproof recipe for spaghetti and meatballs, she showed such passion and determination to change her ways. Jamie couldn't hide his enthusiasm at what he considered a real 'breakthrough' a sort of Cinderella-like transformation. However, the TV crew left, the clock struck midnight and, true to Julie's prophecy, nobody could be bothered anymore (Cue Marcus Brigstocke's Corduroy Planet re British builders: Couldn't lift it, couldn't even fix it...we were getting nowhere...so we had a cup of tea! See: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RSZdb2buU_c) and were back on the crisps, kebabs and other similar pathetic excuses for filling the gap as quickly and cheaply as possible.

The Guardian focused on the underlying social commentary that Jamie unwittingly provided when faced with 'poverty' as the sole explanation for people's lack of interest in food. I beg to disagree. As Jamie himself pointed out, if it was simply down to deprivation , how can it be explained that the people in Soweto or in many other parts of Africa and the world, for that matter, eat remarkably better than the Brits? And needless to say, those people do not get Council housing or benefits or own flat-screen TVs! It's about the complete and utter distance that exists in this country between most people and real food in its natural form. It is the culture of convenience, confusing modernity and progress with artiificially 'enhanced' foods presented in shiny, attractive packaging to deviate from the fact that it is as far from real as it is possible to be. But at those prices and with the ever-tempting offer of minimal or no effort at all, who cares? Well, I do and luckily many others do as well but old habits die hard and no government guidelines are going to change people's mentalities overnight. The only alternative is for the new generations to replace the old, to rediscover a relationship with food as essential to wellbeing, happiness and health and to regard food preparation as a a joy and a necessity, much like having a shower and getting dressed but also as an everyday pleasure. And to realise that good, nutritious, healthy food does not have to take ages to make or cost an arm and a leg. Look at the Italians! They simply would never compromise on food! Feeding your kids rubbish in this age of information where everything carries nutritional data and where it is nearly impossible not to know what good food is, is an act of utter contempt. And how can people blame it on poverty when the money they spend on takeaways and chocolates is far higher than they could in a few fresh ingredients from which they could make healthy meals for their family for a whole week? It's time to stop making excuses and face the grim truth...Sod Cameron and Gordon Brown. I say: Jamie for PM and let the food revolution in Britain begin once and for all!

Foodie heaven

2008-09-30T11:01:00.016+01:00

I have been cooking quite a bit recently, experimenting with different recipes I found on the web (I will include in future posts a comprehensive list of amazing blogs by fellow mad foodies out there who give me hope and make me feel that I am not completely insane...maybe only a little!). Btw, my partner calls me "MCT", short for "Mad Cow Tamagotchi" and the worst of all is that I came up with the name myself! This unravelled whilst we were travelling and living in Argentina for 11 months where we had no choice but to come face to face with foibles we didn't know about each other before. That's when I discovered, to my initial utter shock (now I've grown used to it and being the good girlfriend that I am, have learnt to accept it however 'foreign' this concept will always be to me!) that he can go for nearly 24 hours without food...that means, getting up and not having breakfast, carrying on and sometimes not even having lunch and then maybe snacking on some bread or cheese in the afternoon if needed be! For somebody like me who is constantly planning her next meal, thinking about ingredients, recipes, food news, etc, etc (need I go on?) this is, to put it mildly, a tad difficult to grasp. Back to my well-earned nickname, as we traipsed the marvellous and remote landscapes of Argentina, there were times when, arriving in a place just after lunchtime, we discovered that absolutely everything was closed as the locals were having their 'siesta' from which they would emerge round about 5pm. So far, so good if it hadn't been for the fact that we had left it until we arrived to procure some nibbles and when I realised there were none to be had I started to transform into a not very pleasant creature...which leads to the analogy with those little Japanese evil/lovely toys that demanded to be fed or else they would go nasty on you! And the mad cow is just an additional epithet to place it into the context of food (mad cow disease) and what a mental cow I can become when deprived of nourishment! Anyway, we survived by devising a specific plan including always carrying snacks and trying to plan meals in advance so as to keep my craziness at bay...You might laugh but trust me: you wouldn't if you had to deal with me once I reach that non-zen state!

In terms of my food ethos, I would say that my philosophy is to try as many new things as possible, to experiment, innovate and explore new culinary horizons. Very rare is the time when I would feel drawn to resorting to comfort food unless (and there is always an exception to every rule) we are talking sweets...yes, I am still up for trying every single sweetstuff available but there are some classics you sometimes don't want to mess with, namely,

Anything with dulce de leche (and by anything, I mean ANYTHING!)
Chocolates and white chocolate more specifically

Anything with nuts of any kind!

Because of my obsession with trying new things, and if possible at the same time (too little time, too many dishes to sample!), I have developed a fascination with what I call 'tapas' (I am fully aware that this is not accurate but it is just a Spanish word that helps me define a similar approach to eating) of diverse kinds, that is, many small dishes that are varied enough but similar enough in order to blend well together and provide multiple sensory stimulation (akin to orgasmic) on the plate. Some examples of this gastronomic stroke of genius are,

Indian food in all its variety and glory;

Dim Sum (Chinese nirvana);

Antipasti (or its similar but not as masterful and accomplished Argy version, the "picada");

Mezze (Middle Eastern/Turkish/Greek; all are welcome and equally finger-licking delicious)

Last but not least, the most famous Spanish contribution to gastronomic titillation: the actual and original tapas which can be as varied and as inventive as the diversity of Spanish regions and cultures.

The pictures above exemplify some of these beautiful displays; colourful beauty on the eye, explosively flavoursome on the palate and a long-lasting after taste of pleasure and happiness in the heart and soul.

I'm off to continue to plan dinner (and it's just past midday!)

Food rocks!

Food is my lifeline

2008-09-26T16:02:00.007+01:00

I seriously do not know how raving mad I would go if I didn't have the outlet of food to imagine, to look at, to prepare and finally to savour and offer to others as the best gift I can think of. The mind boggles and it's not a pretty imaginary sight! Sometimes I remind myself of that program called "Grumpy Old Women" or, in other words, a bunch of middle-aged pseudo-celebs having a moan and a rant about anything and everything. Yes, I'm 32 (and don't even suggest I am getting close to middle age or else...) but I think I was born with a big sense of inconformity at the world around me: I cannot stand sloppy standards in anything which is not the same to say that don't forgive mistakes because I make them all the time! Mistakes are more than acceptable insofar as you set out to do the best you could possibly do and made the best effort within your circumstances to achieve it. Maybe it is because I come from a country where, yes, a lot of people take the piss big time and take shortcuts and dodgy ways of getting to high places but, on the other hand, both in my family and among my friends hard work is the norm. My mum (however strained our relationship is at times and however many differences there are between us) has always worked tirelessly both at home and outside, excelling at everything she does and never suggesting that she should work part-time or from home or anything of the sort. Obviously, in the UK workers are a lot more protected and have so many more benefits which, to a degree, is great. However, I think that sometimes it breeds laziness and a feeling of artificial exhaustion, creating needs that are not necessarily natural to all but fostered by a system that allows for too much slacking. It does annoy the crap out of me and before you call me right-wing or Tory lover, please rest assured that I am a lefty at heart and that my paper of choice (which I always read from cover to cover) is the Guardian.

And back to the subject of food (the underlying thread to my existence) this attitude translated into the kitchen with the "Can't-be- arsed-I'd-rather-heat-up-a-plastic-ready-meal or order-a-greasy-takewaway-to-fill-the-gap and-soak-up-the-gallons-of-booze-I've-just-gulped-down" attitude is downright depressing. I will try to be fair and look on the bright side as I know there are many UK foodies out there who take their food seriously but I think it boils down to differences in our cultural make-up. Back home, we are born into a heritage og Italian, Spanish and Jewish grandmothers (explosive combination, I know) which means that the importance of nourishment is drummed into us from the moment we pop out. It would be a cardinal sin for a mom to feed their kids microwave meals and whoever does (there is always somebody who lets the side down) is met with utter derision. Making a healthy AND quick meal, oddly enough, takes the same amount of time than heating up some rubbish but, yes...you might need to roll your sleeves up and spend 10 minutes or so chopping and stirring...the horror! Life is too short, they say to waste time cooking...Well, life will be to short if you don't put any effort into the most crucial aspect of life and settle for sausages, beans and bacon sarnies as not only your body will be malnourished but your brain will be underdeveloped through sheer lack of fuel and your mood undermined by a completely foreign relationship with the preparation of what goes into your body which can have such a powerful effect and have either a positive or negative impact on people's lives. As one of my heroes, Jamie Oliver said, it is not about money: there are groups in shanty towns in Soweto who eat better than the Brits...'Nuff said.

First incursion into the food blogging world

2008-09-25T02:57:00.000+01:00

Hello there, my yet-to-be-materialised potential readers! I feel a slight sense of regression to those frequent ocurrences during my childhood when I would talk/write/sing, etc to several imaginary friends conjured up by my my lonely self when in desperate need to compensate for my only child status (those out there who have also suffered and still suffer from the lack of brothers and sisters will understand exactly what I mean. Those who don't, just stop moaning about how awful your siblings were and trust me: even the nastiest of siblings is better than having nobody at all to gang up against your parents with even if that is their sole function in your life!).

To be perfectly accurate, this is my second incursion into the blogosphere; the first one was in Spanish (my mother tongue) and it never quite took off as I started it very late into my 11-month forced stint back home in Argentina and as the purpose of the blog was to vent my frustrations at being, as I called it, 'stuck in Buenos Aires' (the city where I grew up and that I left as soon as I could...more on that later), as soon as our leaving date approached I lost interest in continuing to have a rant about it.

There are several reasons why I have finally decided to blog, namely,

Everybody else seems to be doing it (so why not me?);
I love writing and I am generally too self-deprecating/lazy/intimidated to do any 'proper' writing;
I am passionate on the verge of almost obsessively mad about food and as nobody I know in the 'real world' remotely shares my craziness, I found that there are other people out there, in the 'virtual' world who are as bonkers as me;
A tad of self-indulgence, I suppose, and the illusion that someone, somewhere over the rainbow or round the corner will acknowledge my virtual existence and get some sort of enjoyment out of my postings;
Last but not least, I am idle as hell given the fact that I am not allowed to work at the moment and I've got more time in my hands than sense and instead of being sucked into the world of the Jeremy Kyles and the Cash in the Attic watching numbers, I decided to pretend I've got something interesting to say.

As an Argentine living in Britain (I think you can pretty much insert most nationalities instead or Argy and it would still work...apart from, well, Americans (most of them, anyway) and maybe Germans (sorry if any of you happen to be one or the other and let me point out that I am more than willing to stand corrected on this one), I am generally appalled at the ghastly food culture (or lack of) that exists in the UK...Before anyone jumps for the jugular throwing names of chefs, tv programmes and Michelin-starred restaurants, let me explain what I mean by this: yes, there is great food available in the big cities; yes, the supermarkets sell ingredients from all over the world and there are plenty of cookery programmes and celebrity chefs inundating the airwaves. However, in my humble experience, for the vast majority of Brits, that is a bit like watching a sci-fi film. They enjoy it, they think it's great but it is so far-fetched that there is no way on Earth that they can see good food as something they could tackle as they believe that this would entail, God forbid!, getting off their arses to cook! And there is nothing that defines the British attitude to food than: Why bother? Their usual grub is, as the chaps from 'Goodness Gracious Me' would say, the blandest thing on the menu, a direct product of the prevalent mentality shared by many about food being 'functional' and 'filling the gap'. This clearly stems from the post-war rationing times where it was necessary to procure the cheapest, fattiest, easiest meals to make sure they could build up a reserve of fat to survive for the longest time possible until the next ration.

The irony is that the UK (at least pre-Gordon Brown and pre-credit crunch malarkey) has been one of the richest, most prosperous countries on earth for many years...However, if you ask most Brits about their spending, they would probably say that the first thing they economise on is food, choosing to eat sausages, beans and chips or ready-made frozen meals from Iceland and spend loads on booze, fags and other luxuries instead of investing in good food...It is a sad state of affairs indeed and that's why I've never seen in any other country (apart from America, again) so many programs trying to teach people what a vegetable looks like and how to cook the most basic dish without using a microwave or shoving ready-made dubious meals in the oven with no seasoning whatsoever apart from butter, margarine or ketchup!

Thankfully, things are slowly changing for the better but it is still a minority that shows an interest in good, healthy food is and who understand how inextricably linked it is to a happy, healthy life...I don't intend to get on a soap box but this does really get my goat BIG TIME (What do you mean you've already noticed??? No waaaayyyy...)

And as my fiancé repeats to me like a mantra:"You should do something about your passion for food" (euphemism, methinks, for 'stop torturing me with your obsession and channel it in some productive way, woman!') So here I am...

My name is Paula and Iam a foodie...Help!