Though it was a drizzly day here in London, we had a wonderful time celebrating Christmas with our house mates and had a delicious feast. Here are some pictures from today:
The food and fun were both great =) We've got quite a lot of other things to share as we've been out and about nearly every weekend this month, trying to pack in the experiences before we head back to CA at the end of this week! So hopefully we'll have stories and pictures of the castles of Wales, Roman Baths, Windsor, and Edinburgh before to long ...
Wednesday 26 December 2007
Thursday 6 December 2007
happy belated thanksgiving
Before any more rural/exotic British adventures are posted, a quick, late, look back at our old country thanksgiving.
A couple weeks ago, on the Sunday following actual US thanksgiving, to be precise, we had our own thanksgiving here. As thanksgivings go, it was warm and fuzzy and buttery. Really - thanksgiving, as it turns out, is a very buttery holiday. Which is probably why it tastes so good. I know this because we cooked all day for it, and it took a lot of butter. But getting to eat leftovers for the week following is definitely worth the effort, and you only do it once a year... Which makes it okay, right? Anyway, it was only our second complete thanksgiving cooking session ever, but I think we did a good job, all by ourselves, except for the salad. First, the menu. We had:
Yes, we ate dessert. Somehow.
Second, the cast. We were 9 for dinner: ourselves and our 4 housemates, one housemate-significant-other, Stephen, one Greek/Swede ex-model, Alex, and my friend Caroline Mair. Third, the process and the pictures. There was a lot of strange new world cooking in our English kitchen, let me tell you. Joey started it off the day before, when he made cranberry sauce from scratch. He also peeled and cored bushels of apples for the pie. (Joey loves him some thanksgiving dinner, and he's evidently not afraid to work for it.) On the morning in question, we rolled out of bed and directly into the kitchen, where birds were dressed, seasoned and basted, vegetables were sliced, diced, marinated, sauteed, roasted and otherwise adulterated, root provisions were attacked, cheeses grated, breads crumbed, and so on. This went on all day. But let's start at the beginning looking at pictures, shall we?
These are the beetroots that were picked fresh from the garden that morning
This is Russell, the beetroot grower, proudly displaying his babies, right before putting them to boil so he could put them in the salad and we could eat them.
Here is Joey, creating stuffing
The work in progress
Darkness fell, and still the faithful laboured on...
No detail was spared
And finally, (almost) everybody assembled, prepared to eat.
In this picture, clockwise from Joey: Russell, Stephen, Andrew, myself, Caroline, Graham, Alex.
The table, at the beginning of the meal
The triumphant entrance of the bird
Followed by its immediate decline
The delicious vegetables
And the hungry chefs. We're only smiling here because we're polite.
And finally, the very photogenic pie, which we were all excited to eat.
(Case in point)
There was after-dinner entertainment in the form of books
And of course photography
Orlando the cat, who we had very rudely failed to invite to the feast, saw an opening and went for it immediately.
It was a good evening. See the looks of contentment?
And then the next day, we got to do it again. :) The end.
A couple weeks ago, on the Sunday following actual US thanksgiving, to be precise, we had our own thanksgiving here. As thanksgivings go, it was warm and fuzzy and buttery. Really - thanksgiving, as it turns out, is a very buttery holiday. Which is probably why it tastes so good. I know this because we cooked all day for it, and it took a lot of butter. But getting to eat leftovers for the week following is definitely worth the effort, and you only do it once a year... Which makes it okay, right? Anyway, it was only our second complete thanksgiving cooking session ever, but I think we did a good job, all by ourselves, except for the salad. First, the menu. We had:
Russell's Avant-Garde Beetroot & Pomegranate Salad
Mashed Sweet Potatoes
Mushroom & Onion Gratin
Green Beans with Caramelized Shallots
Stuffing
Cornbread
Gravy
and of course, Turkey
For dessert: homemade apple pie, with vanilla ice cream
Mashed Sweet Potatoes
Mushroom & Onion Gratin
Green Beans with Caramelized Shallots
Stuffing
Cornbread
Gravy
and of course, Turkey
For dessert: homemade apple pie, with vanilla ice cream
Yes, we ate dessert. Somehow.
Second, the cast. We were 9 for dinner: ourselves and our 4 housemates, one housemate-significant-other, Stephen, one Greek/Swede ex-model, Alex, and my friend Caroline Mair. Third, the process and the pictures. There was a lot of strange new world cooking in our English kitchen, let me tell you. Joey started it off the day before, when he made cranberry sauce from scratch. He also peeled and cored bushels of apples for the pie. (Joey loves him some thanksgiving dinner, and he's evidently not afraid to work for it.) On the morning in question, we rolled out of bed and directly into the kitchen, where birds were dressed, seasoned and basted, vegetables were sliced, diced, marinated, sauteed, roasted and otherwise adulterated, root provisions were attacked, cheeses grated, breads crumbed, and so on. This went on all day. But let's start at the beginning looking at pictures, shall we?
These are the beetroots that were picked fresh from the garden that morning
This is Russell, the beetroot grower, proudly displaying his babies, right before putting them to boil so he could put them in the salad and we could eat them.
Here is Joey, creating stuffing
The work in progress
Darkness fell, and still the faithful laboured on...
No detail was spared
And finally, (almost) everybody assembled, prepared to eat.
In this picture, clockwise from Joey: Russell, Stephen, Andrew, myself, Caroline, Graham, Alex.
The table, at the beginning of the meal
The triumphant entrance of the bird
Followed by its immediate decline
The delicious vegetables
And the hungry chefs. We're only smiling here because we're polite.
And finally, the very photogenic pie, which we were all excited to eat.
(Case in point)
There was after-dinner entertainment in the form of books
And of course photography
Orlando the cat, who we had very rudely failed to invite to the feast, saw an opening and went for it immediately.
It was a good evening. See the looks of contentment?
And then the next day, we got to do it again. :) The end.
Tuesday 4 December 2007
tintern abbey
As part of our look at old South Wales this Saturday, we stopped at Tintern Abbey. I was determined to see the place because it was the inspiration for one of my favourite bits of verse, which is in Wordsworth's "Lines Written a Few Miles above Tintern Abbey". We discovered a couple things there, the first and more mundane of which is that it is a great thing to take the self-directed audio tour offered at tourist sites. The one for the abbey was invaluable, with tastefully used gregorian chants and all, and the visit was probably infinitely better because we had them. You'll see them in the pictures. It might look like we're being strangely anti-social and listening to headphones individually while on a trip together, but, well, it was worth it.
The other thing we discovered is that attractions off the regular radar are fabulous and inspiring, especially when they come recommended by major literary figures, so to speak. The excerpt I love from Wordsworth's poem goes like this:
For I have learned
To look on nature, not as in the hour
Of thoughtless youth; but hearing oftentimes
The still, sad music of humanity,
Nor harsh nor grating, though of ample power
To chasten and subdue. And I have felt
A presence that disturbs me with the joy
Of elevated thoughts; a sense sublime
Of something far more deeply interfused,
Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns,
And the round ocean and the living air,
And the blue sky, and in the mind of man;
A motion and a spirit, that impels
All thinking things, all objects of all thought,
And rolls through all things. Therefore am I still
A lover of the meadows and the woods,
And mountains; and of all that we behold
From this green earth; of all the mighty world
Of eye, and ear,--both what they half create,
And what perceive; well pleased to recognise
In nature and the language of the sense,
The anchor of my purest thoughts, the nurse,
The guide, the guardian of my heart, and soul
Of all my moral being.
Maybe it was the kind of solemnity that comes from ruins of graceful and austere places, the drama of bird's nests and puddles between stone arches and walls, the contrast to the bulk and military air of the castle we'd visited that morning, or maybe just the threat of rain. Either way
we may not be quite as eloquent as old Will, but we were definitely a reflective pair that afternoon. And we loved the place. Here's a panorama view from the inside. Be sure to click on it (and the later pictures) to get the full effect.
And for your edification, in case you have always been longing to know more about Tintern Abbey, are otherwise interested in the ruins of British history, or just like looking at pictures, here are a few images. We start with the abbey, as seen from the (relatively recent) road that runs in front of it:
That road takes us to the gift shop and welcome area:
This was where we got our handy and fab audio guides. Joey put his on and immediately looked more pensive and devout.
I was more than a little excited about it all, especially when we got inside the church building itself.
What used to be an abbey as fancy as any others we'll blog about, now has grassy floor and windows and roofs open to the sky.
Here's Joey, contemplating his own verses, on the grass.
The west window, with me for scale.
The South window, same scale.
And the outside view, of course complete with wind and rain.
There you have it, ladies and gentlemen: the ruins at Tintern Abbey.
The other thing we discovered is that attractions off the regular radar are fabulous and inspiring, especially when they come recommended by major literary figures, so to speak. The excerpt I love from Wordsworth's poem goes like this:
For I have learned
To look on nature, not as in the hour
Of thoughtless youth; but hearing oftentimes
The still, sad music of humanity,
Nor harsh nor grating, though of ample power
To chasten and subdue. And I have felt
A presence that disturbs me with the joy
Of elevated thoughts; a sense sublime
Of something far more deeply interfused,
Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns,
And the round ocean and the living air,
And the blue sky, and in the mind of man;
A motion and a spirit, that impels
All thinking things, all objects of all thought,
And rolls through all things. Therefore am I still
A lover of the meadows and the woods,
And mountains; and of all that we behold
From this green earth; of all the mighty world
Of eye, and ear,--both what they half create,
And what perceive; well pleased to recognise
In nature and the language of the sense,
The anchor of my purest thoughts, the nurse,
The guide, the guardian of my heart, and soul
Of all my moral being.
Maybe it was the kind of solemnity that comes from ruins of graceful and austere places, the drama of bird's nests and puddles between stone arches and walls, the contrast to the bulk and military air of the castle we'd visited that morning, or maybe just the threat of rain. Either way
we may not be quite as eloquent as old Will, but we were definitely a reflective pair that afternoon. And we loved the place. Here's a panorama view from the inside. Be sure to click on it (and the later pictures) to get the full effect.
And for your edification, in case you have always been longing to know more about Tintern Abbey, are otherwise interested in the ruins of British history, or just like looking at pictures, here are a few images. We start with the abbey, as seen from the (relatively recent) road that runs in front of it:
That road takes us to the gift shop and welcome area:
This was where we got our handy and fab audio guides. Joey put his on and immediately looked more pensive and devout.
I was more than a little excited about it all, especially when we got inside the church building itself.
What used to be an abbey as fancy as any others we'll blog about, now has grassy floor and windows and roofs open to the sky.
Here's Joey, contemplating his own verses, on the grass.
The west window, with me for scale.
The South window, same scale.
And the outside view, of course complete with wind and rain.
There you have it, ladies and gentlemen: the ruins at Tintern Abbey.
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