David’s posterous

Jack and Jill, on duty and -off

Jack and Jill went to the mill
To fetch a pickled herring
Jill picked out a kippered sprat
Which Jack declared quite daring
 
They ate the fish with jellied eel
In Cumberland tradition
Jill dusted them with barley meal
A strengthening addition
 
Jack and Jill went to the still
To fetch a tot of rye
They toasted with the best of will:
'Here's mud in someone's eye'
 
At five-to-two they both returned
Full from their fishy luncheon
Jill put on her badge and boots
And Jack strapped on his truncheon
 
Back on the beat, in bobby's hats
They kept the peace till after five
Inspected licenses for spats
And confiscated knives
 
Jack, at six, on roundabout
Smoothed traffic in the rotary
Jill took in a lager lout
And nabbed a priest for forgery
 
In civvies just past 8.05
From Stationhouse by bus
With sworn-to-serve prerogative
They fined a bloke who cussed
 
Hopping off at Princess Park
On Jack's impulsive wishing:
'Let's please stay out till after dark
And test our luck at fishing'
 
To try their hand with rod and creel
They took a skiff out on the lake
Jill soon caught a winsome "trout"
That turned out to be a hake
 
At home by 10 they cooked filets
By brazier in the back
Light brown for one; the other singed
Until it was quite black
 
Jack and Jill ate up their fill
Washed down with pints of ale
Jack performed the washing up
And Jill went through the mail
 
Jack and Jill, abed, were still
And sated by their hearty fare
Jill dreamt of whitebait from the kill
And Jack of an éclair

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Fluffy and adorable. Are they the same thing?

I visited Rainham Marshes in Essex yesterday. Lots of baby coots,
several baby moorhens, and at least one baby little grebe were in
evidence. Arthropods beware!

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Surface tension is the greatest thing since before sliced bread

Since you can't have sliced bread without surface tension (no way for the nice gluten matrix to form), it can be proven that surface tension must be an ancestor Great Thing. 


 

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My friend Alvin is sick today

and his musical robot desktop doggie has been listening to podcasts about swine flu.

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When the comma goes to seed

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How does it know?

I was corresponding with an old friend about pubs and Underground stations in east London. The Web e-mail program was yakking away with advertisements of things that ostensibly would interest me. How did it know that I am always in the market for extruded aluminium shapes? How?
 

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Would you use a singular here?

Somehow, using a singular makes this personal. Cleanliness becomes not just an altruistic gesture, but an act of consideration. 

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Is this the balm that cures all ill?

I suspect that kutbil-ik' might be - no, almost certainly is - the panacea sought by both ancient medicine and modern gastronomy.
 
This morning's breakfast - a disappointing bratwurst (truly gebraten, as I bratted it on the grill) - couldn't be rescued by either Dijon mustard or curry catsup. (Why is it that most jarred Dijon mustard tastes more like starch filler and watery vinegar than mustard seed and white Burgundy?)
 
To the rescue: faster than a speeding jaguar, bolder than a numbering system based on twenty, and able to enliven bland breakfast sausages with a single dash. Kutbil-ik', you are my hero.

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The condiment tray

Condiment trays -- and I mean that in the metaphorical sense -- seem to vary widely from culture to culture, but there are themes that can be teased out. Let's take an American diner: on the table are predictably salt, pre-ground black pepper, tomato catsup, and a bottle of Louisiana chili sauce. The chili sauce is the most variable -- Tabasco brand is dominant, but others abound. Now go to a highway rest stop in Germany, and the salt and pepper are both still there, but the chili sauce has been replaced by a bottle of Maggiwürze, a lightly fermented, Nestlé-branded sauce that tastes mostly of salt and monosodium glutamate. And there's no tomato catsup at the rest stop. A Taipei breakfast stall might have red vinegar, sweet soy sauce, and a tub of chili and garlic macerated in oil. I've noticed that Belgian bistrots tend toward a mustard pot, sausage stands might include sauerkraut, and Vietnamese bun- or mi houses add pickled spring garlic. 


The condiment tray also varies by the food on offer at a particularly venue. Fish and chips inevitably evoke vinegar, sometimes made from sour beer, usually colored to look like it's made from sour beer and called malt vinegar to boot. (This in spite of the fact that cider vinegar, which is about the same color and made from apple cider, is usually a better addition to fish and chips.)

The sauces in some fast-food restaurants are legion, and they are almost always branded. I recently counted two kinds of barbecue sauce (this is a catch-all term, but here refers to a thickened, sweet kind of tomato catsup, heavy with molasses flavor and smoke), a mayonnaise (a preserved egg emulsion that tastes of canola oil and neutral vinegar -- not much like a sauce mayonnaise at all, but along the same gastronomic axis), a hot sauce (labelled just that), tomato catsup, mustard, a sweetened cucumber relish, and tartar sauce. Tartar sauce is particularly interesting, because it is a compound condiment, being made from two of the aforementioned: sweet pickle relish and mayonnaise. 

My own dream condiment tray would skip the black pepper. It's a fine flavor, and I use it in the kitchen all the time, but it doesn't need to be on the table. I would include one kind of fish sauce, as do a lot of restaurants. The most popular is Lee and Perrin's worcestershire sauce, an anchovy reduction redolent of molasses but still with nam pla fishiness. And there would be three forms of chili: one ground up with garlic in oil, one in the Tabasco mold (Sriracha and Cholula brands are good, and they are both a bit cheaper than the Louisiana sauces), and plain dried chillies in powder (our local chili farm has been providing rocoto, which is vigorous). We sometimes have two sizes of salt on the table, fine-ground and flake. They suit different dishes, and I like them in salts rather than in shakers. 

Some of the necessary condiments keep well in bottles or jars on the tray: soy sauce can last for weeks, fish sauce for a while, and strong vinegar and salt almost indefinitely. Curry ketchup, a central European invention that I happen to like, needs to stay in the fridge except at mealtimes. The same goes for most mustards and mayonnaises -- even the ones full of stabilizers. Some condiments really need to be fresh ingredients: you can't keep grated ginger, wasabi needs to be made up fresh, and I've never met a pot of ground horseradish that kept its much more than an hour, although you can buy some that is sealed in jars with ample vinegar, and these will give you a week from opening. I've gone back and forth on mango pickle, but by and large it's a must for the discerning diner's condiment collection. Red rice vinegar is good, a pretty color, and variable -- but helpful in a pinch for fish and chips. As for soy sauces, there are so many kinds that I think it would just take two to banish Maggiwürze, although I appreciate that MSG needs a way to get to the table. 

More ideas: sansho powder (Sichuan peppercorns); a late-eighteenth century nutmeg grater containing more modern nutmegs; dried minced garlic; black sesame seeds.   

The conclusion on restaurant condiment trays is that the size of the condiment tray is inversely proportional to the size of the restaurant's snootiness -- down to a point. A country diner might have what amounts to a salad bar (remember from earlier reading that "salad" is one of the vaguest of all words in English culinary vocabulary). Alongside the beet-colored horseradish are habanero sauce and malt vinegar, diced onions and Major Grey's chutney, two kinds of barbecue sauce, dried shrimp powder, and coarse-ground mustard. The biggest of the hamburger chains seem to get away with less -- often just salt, pepper, and tomato catsup. But as you go up the price ladder, even the salt cellar disappears. The presumption being, I suppose, that you're paying all this money for a celebrity chef to concoct your pavé of pulled pike-perch with rutabaga coulis, so why would you consider yourself capable of altering its flavors? 

Which is why I go to restaurants with a vial of ground serrano chillies in my pocket.

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a morning with cranes

Stevedoring is not what you want to be doing today. You want to be warm and cozy and sitting inside. The cranes are lovely, up close or in the middle distance. 

The containers are heavy, and they come in an endless rhythm. One is full of shoes. One is full of glues. And the last is full of flues. 

Who knew?





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