Spendy Food?

Every once in awhile, we have to step aside from obsessng over, photographing, and writing about food to talk about it in more pedestrian terms.

When we visited the United States earlier this summer, we had some sticker shock moments. We sashayed into Safeway and at the check out counter, just about dropped our bags. When we lived in the States, we didn’t usually shop at Safeway, preferring our local Raley’s and supplementing with Whole Foods or other more expensive-but-organic/health food markets. We were a little shocked to find that Safeway’s prices were almost as high as Whole Foods.

Meeting a fellow Californian this week, we were surprised when she bemoaned the cost of living here in Glasgow. Sure, we agreed with her about the cost of housing — trying to find decent digs near the University is a soul-destroyingly painful process, which involves a lot of walking and a lot of shudders of disgust at the “tips” in which some people live –, and we also agreed with her about the price of clothing — it’s definitely a more expensive world without Old Navy or the boundless inexpensive options of the Burlington Coat Factory, etc. (but it may be that clothing is of better quality here? Not sure — haven’t bought that much yet.) — But when she said that food prices were horrendous, we had to ask, “Eh?”

“Well, where do you shop?” We asked, curious. She named some of the same stores which we patronize — small green grocers, corner shops, Tesco, and Grassroots Organic Market. We nodded and commiserated, but obviously there was something missing from our comprehension. We have often remarked what a good thing it is that food is government subsidized here, and have often wondered whether or not the U.S. should take a page from the 70’s and re-adopt that practice. As high as council taxes are in some areas, and with as much access as there is to pubs and bookies, it’s good that feeding people isn’t a major hardship.

Later, we watched this person purchase a few things for lunch. She had several imported items, including cheeses. She also included avocados for herself and her child, who is about three. When we looked at her purchases, understanding dawned.

Most of the time, we make a conscious choice to know the origins of our food. This doesn’t mean we’re trying to be on first-name basis with every farmer in the country (why would they want to be bothered with us?), but that we are trying to eat what’s here, not what’s from home, and live within the local economy. Avocados we adore, but we eat them infrequently, as they’re not grown here and are rarely sourced inexpensively, so they’re just not cheap. I imagine if this family tries to eat as they did in California, with tons of fruit and avocados for every meal, Glasgow must be very spendy for them, indeed.

A UK Guardian piece this past week on wasting food touched off some other thoughts for us — it’s well worth reading. The article talks about not only how to spend less, but how to waste less. It suggests avoiding shopping at supermarkets or using two-for-one offers when one only needs one thing. Rediscovering packed lunches for work or school, bulk buying non-perishables, and reacquainting oneself with one’s freezer are also put forth as viable alternatives to overspending and wasting. The suggestion we loved the most was ‘Cook.’ Not a problem!

We haven’t yet gotten used to the strange looks we get from people our age who find out that most meals we create from scratch at home. I know people who categorically deny that they can eat leftovers — as if leftovers entering their systems are a physical impossibility. Maybe it’s all in how we were raised, but as we open our fridge today — and find it mostly empty — we know it’s time to make some creamy mushroom soup, cook up a pot of beans and bring out Sadie, our starter, and prod her into providing us with another loaf of bread. It doesn’t mean that it’s time to go out! — We’ve eaten out quite a bit in the past week, and have found that we must be going to the wrong places, because restaurant food is not as satisfying as what we eat at home. For folks who years ago used to spend into four figures every year on Thai food alone, this is good news.

If we were able to pass on a helpful suggestion to our new acquaintances from California, it would be to find a restaurant supply store. Costco, of course, is a great place for those bulk non-perishables, but if you don’t need fifty-seven rolls of TP, and don’t have the storage space for it (like we don’t!), it can be daunting. Still, it one needs, for instance, a large bottle of maple syrup, it’s a great option.

Our well-loved Matthew’s is a restaurant supply store for Asian markets all over the city, and the produce may not be spotlessly beautiful, but it’s really inexpensive, and we’ve come away simply laden with veggies bound to be washed and prepped and frozen.

For the most part, we’ve discovered that food here is fairly affordable when we don’t try and pretend we’re still living in California. This isn’t to say we’re not still a little horrified when we think back to the past winter and the times we simply weren’t able to eat the UK root veggies fast enough to prevent them from sprouting — we’ve clued in to the idea of getting a box of veggies in the winter every other week, instead of weekly, so that hopefully we’re not wasting food or money. There are always imperfect days, but we’re making our way toward using things up, wearing them out, making them do… so we don’t have to do without.


Someone asked us how we liked the pickle, sour cream and honey dish we had in Tallinn last week. Though it certainly wasn’t awful, it was unusual enough that we’re still not sure we liked it. The jury’s still confused as to which was the condiment in the group… pickles? Sour cream? Honey? And speaking of condiments, a recent jaunt to the Highlands made us realize that Scottish people outside of Glasgow don’t seem to have mustard on the table and readily available. We have substituted vinegar (that’s part of the taste we’re after in mustard anyway) a couple of times, but we rather like our mustard, and now are considering traveling with a small bottle, just in case…

Tallinn, Estonia … and beyond

What can we say, other than that we’ve been to Tallinn, Estonia, and have had … well, a glimpse of a rich history. Only a glimpse, as I had to work a bit (the reason for going), as did T (her work was merely bad timing: an editorial letter arrived the day before we left, so she had hundreds of pages of edits to do on her most recently sold manuscript).

Aside from the work, though, we did have Friday and half of Saturday, and we took advantage of the sunny days to see as much as was humanly possible!

Of course, we also took the time to visit with Pille, and to have a nice lunch at Troika. On the menu were a vegetarian Borscht (just leave out the critter bits, basically), salted pickles (eaten with honey and sour cream), bread and onions, and mushroom soup with dumplings. All were delicious, and were quite in line with our appetites, which were quite wiped out from travel and eating meals on the company’s dime.

There are no pictures, but the previous evening’s meal was had at Restaurant Kadriorg, located near the park and palace of Kadriorg. We were treated by the office manager, so I had no idea what things cost … until looking at the menu (basically, to get $US, divide Estonian Kroon by 10 – so EEK $100 would be US $10, which would be UK £5). It was fairly good food, but I’m glad that the company paid – I can’t say that I’d have been as pleased with it if it were coming out of my pocket! (No, that’s not a recommendation for the restaurant, at all.)

Next time*, we’ll plan things a bit better as far as seeing things and where to eat. For now, though, we’ve just come back only to be off again – this time for three days in the Scottish Highlands. So, no doubt we’ll have more tales of interesting food, but it’ll likely be a wee while before we’re up to creative cooking.

* If there is a next time in Tallinn – the company I’m consulting with acquired a smaller company which had offices all over the Baltic, so next time could be Riga, St. Petersburg, or Odessa. We’ll see. While it’d be nice to go back, it’d also be nice to just travel somewhere radically new … and, frankly, we’ll be happy no matter where we go. That’s part of why we’re here, after all!

From the files of "EH? "

Yes, it’s time once again for WITW Glasgow! Today’s special guest is WITW TESCO! Please join our studio audience as we all ask What! In! The! World?

We’ve turned back time and sneaked into the marketing and merchandising department of this grocery giant to observe the art department presentation for Tesco’s Lightly Salted Tortilla Chips (120 calories per serving). Through the magic of the internet, we now take you there:

“Bunty, I think we’ve got something.”

“Oh, wonderful, Giles. Let’s hear it.”

“All right then. *rolls out full-sized illustration.*

“Right, Giles. Thanks. Stereotypically cheerful fat man, check. Fake moustache. Check. Empty bandolier belt to underscore the bandito cliché, check. Sombrero, check. Yep, he’s a Mexican, all right. Giles, this looks great. You’ve done the art department proud this time.”

“Oh, not at all, Bunty, this is a team effort, a group–“

*cough* “Uh, Giles?”

*Impatient sigh* “Yeah, Bob, what is it now?”

“Well… I know I’m only an intern, but I’m on the team, right? I have a question…”

“Go ahead, Bob. Giles, be patient with him, this is how we all had to learn.

“Thanks, Bunty. Um, so, is that mustard on the guy’s belt?”

“Yes.”

“Really? Uh, why?”

“Bob, look. Just leave the high-level details to me, all right? EVERYONE KNOWS Mexicans eat their tortilla chips with mustard, all right? Have you ever been to Mexican? Do you know what their country is like?”

“I thought it was Mexico…”

“See, Bob? You thought. Again. We’re going to have to work on that.”


It had to have been something like that. I mean, because, seriously. How else could they have come up with this?? It’s pretty close to the stereotype of the Frito Bandito.

Incidentally, the yellow thing tucked into the belt would either be spray butter — which we are assured does not exist on these shores — or some kind of mustard. We think it’s probably meant to be some kind of liquor — but we’ll stick with the mustard, thanks. There are enough stereotypes here already.

Seitan or Gluten: The Other ‘Wheat’ Meat

D. came home from work soaked to the skin. We threw his things in the dryer (oh, the bliss of dryer ownership) and got started on a hot meal quickly.

We pulled seitan steaks out of the fridge, dredged them in wet mixture of light salad dressing and spicy mustard then rolled them in a dry mix that included cracker crumbs, oatflour, bread crumbs, savory spices and smoked yeast. We placed them in an oiled pan, spritzed the tops lightly with olive oil, and put them in the oven to broil. About ten minutes in, we flipped them so the tops could brown as well, and served the crispy, chewy, savory mouthfuls with fresh corn on the cob and sliced tomatoes. It made getting caught in a summer cloudburst kind of a treat. Almost.


I don’t know why we even first attempted to make seitan. It might have been the time we were in a Chinese restaurant in San Francisco and had a taro “fish” and chow mein with mock duck, and said, “We could make this, right?” We actually attempted the taro first — which turned out… er, interestingly (it might really help to have an immersible electric fryer for a dish where you need quick frying in very hot oil, otherwise the oiliness is just disgusting), and so we were pretty cautious when it came to trying out the second dish. We’d had sketchy instructions from various sources. “Just take some white flour… and wash it ’til all the starch goes out. Then cut it into pieces and boil it with a really rich salty broth.”

Um, o…kay.

And actually? That’s all it takes — to do it the way we’ll talk about in this post. This is a traditional but much longer route to meat wheatdom. But it works, and its beauty lies in its simplicity, as it requires no fancy anything; nothing but flour and water.

First, we purchased two 1 kilo bags (4.4 lbs.) of cheap, plain unbleached all-purpose flour from the corner store and, dumping it into a large bowl and adding plain cool water, kneaded it into a stiff dough. We poured cold water over that ball of dough, and let it soak, for about an hour.

(Please note: the round sink and bowl shown is indeed our kitchen sink, not a bathroom sink as it might appear!)

Next we proceeded to knead the dough ball, under water, until the water was thoroughly white and starchy, at which point we began the seemingly endless cycle of dumping starchy water and adding fresh water to the bowl, until all the starch had been washed out, and the water ran clear. With this amount of flour, it took about twenty rinses.

Some people save the first bowl of starchy water, because starch is useful for laundry or making glutinous noodles. Those are projects for another post! You can watch a gentleman make glutinous noodles, accompanied by a soothing musical soundtrack, here. But back to our tale —

When the starch is washed away from the protein, the ball takes on a rubbery and sticky feel. At that stage, when we tore our ball apart, it would stick back to itself with no effort at all. This was the indication that we were looking for that it was all protein! We sliced the ball into rough pieces and dropped it, stirring frequently, into a pot of boiling broth.

The ingredients for the broth vary from person to person, but we used about twelve cups of water, a cup of soy sauce, two large onions, chopped, a lot of fresh rosemary, a clove of garlic, a tablespoon of rubbed sage, and about two tablespoons of nutritional yeast. Kept at just a boil (nothing too energetic) for just thirty minutes, the boiling gluten slices will expand tremendously, and then contract, and be done.

If boiled for an additional fifteen to thirty minutes, the seitan will have the consistency of veal — and some people consider that to be overdone, while others prefer this softer texture. At any rate, the seitan will rise to the top of the water when it is ready to eat, so keep an eye on your pot.

The seitan can be deep fried “raw” (that is, prior to broth boiling) and it will puff up into a crunchy, golden-brown morsel. We’re not big on even shallow-frying things, so we dredge and bake. Either way you prepare it and flavor it, the gluten or seitan is tasty and full of protein. Served with a big salad, or sautéed with mushrooms to top noodles, this is a tasty meat alternative, as many cooks have known for years.

“Simple” is gluten in a nutshell. “Easy” — not so much. There are a lot of steps and lots of messy washings going on. Next time we discuss gluten, we’ll be making it a shorter, quicker way that might encourage you to actually attempt it!

The Bakers of Daring in June: Danish Braid



BUDD-ah. That’s what this one was mostly about. Buddah, as our Food Network buddy Paula Deen likes to say. There’s ‘buddah’ in this Danish Braid, and plenty of it. So, if you, like us, are a household of two and trying vainly to keep a leash on your fat and cholesterol intake what do you do? Substitute Benecol olive oil spread for butter, to work on lowering your cholesterol instead of raising it — and use just a bit less than the recipe requires. For some, it’s a gamble to substitute, but practice makes perfect, and this time it paid off in spades.

Yep, it’s time once again for another Daring Baker Challenge, my first in awhile, due to moving and a lot of other non-kitchen nonsense. It felt good to get back in the swing of things this week as I assembled the ingredients — no hand mixers or other accouterments, but this was a long, slow process and I had plenty of time to set up and clean up in between chilling the dough. This laminated pastry is something every croissant-lover wants more of, but it takes a lot of fridge time and cool hands to make it come out right. Fortunately, we’re now back in the land of cold weather — as I rolled out our dough, the rain drizzled down and the mists rose.



Perfect.

The detrempe came together easily, and because I kept mainly to the script, with a few small exceptions, I won’t repeat the recipe here, but you can find all the steps at KellyPea’s blog Sass & Veracity. I added a heaping teaspoon of our home made garam masala, and a whole vanilla pod to the dough, instead of the portion of a teaspoon of cardamom and half a pod of vanilla called for. I also added a splash of rosewater to compliment the cardamom, and the zest of three oranges, which made for an incredibly flavorful, fragrant dough. The olive oil spread worked as well as or better than butter, and because I turned the dough an additional three times more than the recipe required, the dough was incredibly tender, but not sticky, and puffed up beautifully.

For the filling, we used a combination of sweet-tart Braeburns and very tart Granny Smith apples, to preserve more of the shape and texture of the apple. We cut the sugar to a quarter cup, added a touch of complexity and bitterness with a bit of grapefruit juice in lieu of the lemon the called for, and then used pure vanilla extract instead of vanilla bean, mostly for the aesthetic reasons of confining the tiny black vanilla seeds solely to the bread (but also because we realized that the half-bean which was supposed to be left over in making the dough would have gone in here). We also cut out the butter and browned the apples in a stainless steel pan spritzed with olive oil. We really felt the filling didn’t need those four tablespoons of butter.



Once we got to the braiding bit, it was just a bit of wrap and stick, and we were home free.

The Danish was a slow starter in the rising department — because of that coldish weather once again — but once it got going, it was something to see. The baking filled the house with an amazing aroma, and when it finally came time to slice into it — Mmmm. A flaky, tender pastry. A tart-sweet filling. An immediate desire to eat both loaves, and an immediate understanding that it HAS to go to work with me on Monday or else.

For the record, I tried to share with the neighbor who held our FedEx package for us while we were in California.

He didn’t open the door.

I’m not going back.

Be sure to check out the rest of the Daring Bakers’ creations, over at the Daring Bakers Blogroll!

Oh – and, in case you’re like me and didn’t connect the dots: this is what is better known as a Danish. I didn’t catch that until I was eating a slice. Yeah.

Google, Food Fairies and DIY Cooking

Hurray for the Foodie Fairy!

What do you mean, you’ve never heard of her. You’ve heard of St. Julia, haven’t you? Smell the wafting of rosemary, onion and garlic? That special hint of candied violets and lemon? That’s her.

Behold the return of the Food Fairy, that sprite which combs the web and finds us foodie supplies which make us most glad, huzzah!

*Ahem* Sorry. Bit of hysteria here over the discovery of, via the Google Vegetarian Cooking group, The Flour Bin, a baking store which supplies commercial and home bakers with wheat, oats, yeast, and good strong wholemeal and white bread flour. Twenty years in the business, this place was written up in the Times (of, apparently, London), and has an online store which provides flours, gluten powder, which beefs up weak flours and can be used as a fantastic short cut for homemade roasts and cutlets; dried fruit, dried mushrooms, bulk nuts, seeds, etc. ‘Twill not ever be as good as the SF Herb Company, to whom we owe eternal allegiance, but a U.K. semi-equivalent. The stock apparently turns pretty quickly, owing to the fact that it supplies commercial bakeries, and it is not terribly expensive — not prohibitively so, anyway, though the basic shipping is £7 — but you can get a lot of weight for that. The Flour Bin just might be what we’ve been looking for!

They have dried fruit, sans the dreaded E220 and its evil minions (except in apricots, but I can live with that). They have mango powder, which comes in handy for chutney, all manner of raw or toasted nuts and seeds, including the lovely linseed or flax. They also have oddities, including Indonesian bumbu, which are “wet spice stir-fry mixtures containing fresh Indonesian herbs and spices including lemon grass, laos root (galangol), and lime leaves, vacuum packed in sachets for longevity” … lovely fresh curry pastes (in the unusual event *cough* that I am too lazy to make my own.)

I may just be a tiny bit in love.

Stay tuned on what we’ve done without gluten powder… Ever heard of “wheat meat?” No? Neither had I. How about “mock duck” or seitan? When the doldrums hit, it’s DIY Cooking To the Rescue…

Costco. In Glasgow. After all this time.

People were really good about telling us about the Edinburgh Costco, conveniently located next to the Edinburgh Ikea, but we always felt that an hour train trip just to shop for a few bulk items didn’t make sense — Edinburgh is a busy-busy-busy place and we couldn’t see schlepping the amount of stuff home that it would take to make the long trip there and back worthwhile. But a Costco in Glasgow… Hm. What kills me is that it looks exactly the same as the ones in the U.S. — big, boxy building, wide parking lanes, huge cart catchers. You could be looking at a picture of Sacramento, except there are too few cars in the lot, no hot dog/churro/nacho vendors clustered right outside the door and not enough obnoxious people parking crookedly and gunning the engines of their half-ton pickup trucks while waiting for their wives/girlfriends and six kids to race back to the car clutching their giant pretzels and ice cream cones…

You doubtless heard the sad tale of the carry-on and the sticky debacle that occurred when we were dodging airline weight regulations and ran smack into TSA liquid carry-on regulations. It would take a team of MacGyvers and a whole lot of ingenuity — not to mention something that, maybe, burned to come up with an incendiary device made of bulk containers of honey and maple syrup, but we wouldn’t want to bring down the plane, so into the box went our Costco items, and we went away bemoaning the waste (to us, anyway. The agent said that the janitorial staff splits the goods that get pulled. Good for them.). While I doubt very much that we could afford maple syrup — from Canada — purchased in the UK, we might have to check out what else is there. We were assured in the U.S. that our membership card works just as well in all nineteen UK locations, but with our tiny kitchen, shopping in bulk anywhere isn’t something that’s easy. Storage is an issue, for sure. Still we were tickled to find out that we don’t have to go to Edinburgh for anything at all.

Costco. Who knew?!

Too busy to blog … but not too busy to bake

OK, so we’ve been slackers about blogging lately. The reason for this slackerishness is that we’re in the US, visiting everybody in California we haven’t seen for months and months. We have been cooking, though, and have even taken the time to set up the tripod and remote so that we could show you that we’ve been baking. Unfortunately for you there’s no more of this bread left to share: the last of it went into French Toast just yesterday morning.

There are plenty of pictures of our adventures up at Flickr, so do pop over to check it out. As soon as I get back to the hotel* this evening I’ll be uploading a bunch taken from the plane, and lots of those are pictures of snow-capped volcanoes.

* We’re in Miami, because no vacation is complete without at least one red-eye flight to the other side of the continent, to do some work.

All this time, Wheaties has had it wrong…



The breakfast of Champions? Is really berries.

No need for squeaky voiced Kerri Strug or short-and-perky Mary Lou Retton to beam at you from your box of breakfast cereal anymore. (It’s too early for that hyper-positivity in the morning anyway.) Though the summer isn’t even anywhere near ready to start, we are seeing more berries on greengrocer’s shelves for lower prices, and we’re being really encouraged to pick it up and get eating. We’re also hoping to get out into the countryside and start finding You-Pick places. I wonder if that’s strictly a U.S. phenomenon, and I can’t imagine that being the case. (If anyone knows of places to pick in the U.K., tell! Tell!)

These are, of course, blueberries, and they’re huge — and watery. In the U.S., the smaller the blueberry, most often the sweeter it is, because the blueberries we’ve had from Maine, Alaska and Oregon are wild and no one is cultivating and cross-breeding them for size. These berries are likely imported from Spain, where the harvest – in an overwintered greenhouse – is already underway. It may be that when we get real U.K. blueberries grown in outdoor conditions, they’ll be awesome. Until then, these are mildly sweet, and go really well with a cup of Greek-style, plain yogurt, or whipped silken tofu made tart with lemon juice, and sweetened with a bit of brown sugar.

Hope you’re enjoying a bite of Spring this week.

Rhubarbarama 2



Well, the Rhubarb Tartlettes only used up about half of the rhubarb jam. So, in keeping with the theme (of feeding my department), I decided to be a little unorthodox and mix up a sweet yeast bread … using our Sourdough starter. The starter needs to get a bit of a workout, as we’re traveling most of June, and it will be languishing in the fridge. Legend has it that it should be OK in the fridge for a month … but we may find that we have to start over, and that would be OK as well, considering that the process we used to get this one started only took about 3 days (pineapple juice: it’s the key to sourdough).



To my standard bread recipe I added 1/2 cup brown sugar and a couple tablespoons of olive oil (for moistness). Instead of letting it get a good, long fermentation going, I sped up the process by skipping a rise and prepping it with only a single yeast-backed rise (I usually supplement the sourdough with commercial yeast, because I’m lazy and live in a cold country where letting sourdough rise on its own can take days). I also left the dough quite moist. I flattened it out, filled it with rhubarb jam and orange marmalade (could have used a whole cup of rhubarb jam), rolled it up, tucked it into a springform pan, coated it with soy-milk, sprinkled it with sugar, and let it rise. After ‘slashing’ (I used scissors) I baked it on a lower than normal temperature, so that it’d have a chance to cook through while not developing too thick of a crust. After depanning, I sliced it into 16 wedges, and that was that! Quite a tender, moist, and flavorful loaf! It was really a bit more like a cake in texture, but it was thoroughly baked. It’s something I would repeat – perhaps with a sweeter jam than marmalade, and one with more character than rhubarb.