The Big 5

Yes, I have a Jewish grandmother. Those of you who know what that means, will laugh knowingly right about now. Those of you who don't, will have a better understanding in a just a minute.

My Nanna and I talk once a week, mainly so we know that the other is ok, living so far from one another. Sometimes the conversations are long, and sometimes they are short. Sometimes I hear all the same stuff she had told me the week before and sometimes the news is new. But the questions, are always the same, and in one recent conversation, I got the "Big 5":

1. Have you run out of money?
2. Do you have any friends?
3. Why don't you get a job?
4. Is Jet happy with you?
5. Are you still slim?

I answered none of her questions, and this conversation was one of those short ones I mentioned...

The Nanna that asks the big questions

Cooking Class #1

Many years ago, I used to joke that I needed to marry a chef. At the time, this claim was in reference to my wheat allergy and I thought it would be AWESOME to have a chef in the house that could cook for me so that I didn't have to. Oh the irony!

Until recently, I had never asked Jet to teach me about cooking, I had never really cooked or even committed to cooking during our relationship and I had never felt the need to prepare food at home and would choose to eat out and make poor decisions when it came to what I ate. What I didn't realize when I joked about marrying a chef, was they don't want to come home and cook and really appreciate it when other people cook for them... even if they are being used as guinea pigs.

So I thought that with the new year, one of my resolutions was to tackle my fears. And one of my biggest? Cooking for my chef! Our first lesson together was braising and he taught me a few good tips:

• Pat dry your protein before you put it in the pan to brown it. The less water your meat has when it's added to the oil, the less it spits at you from the pan. Alternatively you can coat the meat in flour which also lessens spitting.
• The key to browning meat is to leave it alone. Give it time to get some good color before you start messing around with it and flipping it over.
• I mistakenly put the lid on when browning and created condensation which meant that when I removed the lid, the water hit the oil and I was again spat at! The trick is to leave the lid only partially on.
• Bone in -vs- boneless... bone in meat takes a little longer to cook to take this into consideration working out your cooking time.
• Season, season, season! Make sure that you season with salt and pepper as you go, and taste your food as you go so you know how to adjust your flavors.

So my braising recipes came from two sources: a recipe book of mine, and of course a "Jet Special".

Chicken with Tarragon
Easy Low-Carb

1 tablespoon unsalted butter
1 tablespoon safflower oil
1 free range chicken (about 4 lbs) cut into 6-8 pieces
2 carrots, chopped
1 shallot, chopped
a sprig of thyme
2-3 sprigs flat leaf parsley
a bunch of tarragon
3 tablespoons sour cream
sea salt and freshly ground black pepper

serves 4

Heat the butter and oil in a large saute pan with a lid. Add the chicken pieces and cook until brown, about 5 minutes. Work in batches if your pan is not big enough. Put the browned chicken pieces on a plate and season well with salt and pepper.

Add the carrots and shallot to the pan and cook, stirring for a minute or so. Return the chicken to the pan and add water to cover half-way. Add the thyme, parsley and a few sprigs of tarragon. Cover and simmer gently for 30 minutes.

Meanwhile, strip the leaves from the remaining tarragon, chop them finely and set aside. Add the stems to the cooking chicken.

Remove the chicken from the pan and put in a serving dish. Remove and discard the tarragon stems.

Raise the heat and cook the sauce until reduced by half. Strain and return the saute to the pan. Stir in the sour cream and the chopped tarragon. Heat briefly (do not boil) and pour over the chicken. Serve immediately.

And here is my winning result! However, there are a few things I would change for this recipe:

1. Drain most of the fat from the pan after browning the chicken. I didn't use the oil and just used the butter, and the sauce was quite oily even at the end.
2. Add some extra simmer time if you are using bone in chicken.
3. After straining the sauce, add a little sauce to the sour cream - not the other way around. That way, if it separates it's with only a little of the sauce and you still have a lot to work with.
4. I halved the chicken quantity, but used the same herb quantity and it was very aromatic. 

My short rib verdict and recipe will be posted tomorrow!

Phew!

After 3 weeks away and some Mercury Madness, I am home to Jet and my little four-legged furry angels. My last week in the UK was supposed to be precise, carefully planned and timed with very small margins left for any mishaps. Wrong!

Right before I left Cambridge, Spencer and I had a conversation about travel insurance. He asked me the question of whether I had any, when we checked the BBC website and found that snow was forecast for duration of my visit. When I said "no", his eyebrows shot up and in a very fatherly tone, he recommended I look into it for the rest of this trip and any future trips I do - especially during winter. But I was feeling lucky. Ha!

As the eleventh hour approached, I dragged my overweight bags downstairs and sat up in my temporary bedroom, checking online for an up-to-the-minute weather forecast for Cambridge, London, Stansted Airport and Luxembourg. I was waiting for the National Rail page to open when I happened to look out the window to see tiny little snow flakes, falling from the sky. English trains don't like snow. Shit.

So in a flurry of snow, goodbyes, laughter and Spencer's shock at how heavy my bag was, Miche waved us off from the front door and Spencer and I set off in the camper, bound for the train station. By hook or by crook, I was getting to London. My plan? To drop my bags with my friend Cat, chill for a minute, then set out together to Stansted for our reunion with Kylie in Luxembourg. Our plane was supposed to land at 11pm which meant that we would be home at her place by 12.30am. Hmmm...

Spencer waved a frantic goodbye to me at the platform and directed me to platform 3 to catch the London bound express train at 12.28pm. Because of the snow, the train was not, in fact, an express train and deposited me in London at 2pm, where I picked up a Steak & Ale Cornish Pasty and a bottle of Pirate Water to quiet my noisy stomach. I hauled my bags into a cab whose driver took me the long way to Cat's place, and then accepted my tenner and drove away without giving me change! Cheeky git.

As I enjoyed my pasty, Cat and I checked the Stansted Airport website, the Ryanair website and the weather reports and decided that the only thing to do was to go to the airport early as everything seemed to be scheduled as normal. So we left with plenty of time to spare, chatting all the way, dropped my check in luggage at the desk and ventured through security. We found a restaurant to sit down and eat an airport dinner, then took turns checking the departures board. "Delayed - estimated 23:30". It was only 8pm. Ugh.

No-one would tell us anything and other passengers were getting irate. We had become the last scheduled flight out and not only did the restaurant kick us out, but all the shops were closed! Cat and I decided that if Ryanair cancelled the flight, we would just stay in London and I would try and bring my Las Vegas flight forward. But Ryanair wouldn't cancel because they are cheap bastards. We were sure that the flight would leave too late and break some kind of night flight regulation. Nope, we boarded at 11.15pm. This also meant that Kylie had to leave home at the same time we boarded to make it to Frankfurt Hahn airport for our arrival, and it also meant that because we arrived at 1.30am, we wouldn't be home until after 3.00am. While it was ok for me, the girls (and the kids) had to be out of the house by 7.45am which meant that they barely got 4 hours of sleep. Eeeek!

Cat, Kylie and I had a great (if a little tired) couple of days. Kylie's little boy has given us our very own vacation catchphrase "No Mummy"! We left early on Saturday morning and headed in snow to the airport. And even though I hate getting up early, it was still a fun adventure. Until we were almost at the airport, and food poisoning kicked in. Yuk.

I don't remember the last time I felt that horrific. I probably saw more lavatories in Frankfurt Hahn airport than anything else. I was so sick I couldn't even make conversation with Cat and would move constantly back and forth between our seat at the departure lounge and the bathroom. Our plane was delayed and I was hoping and wishing that the worst would be over by the time we had to board. But no. The worst was actually while I was on the plane. I could only feel extremely apologetic for the guy sitting next to me as I wretched into a sick bag during take off. And while I have a cross to bear with Ryanair and their management, they cabin crew were extremely nice to me while I was sick, and even assisted me off the plane.

Poor Cat thought she would have to either call an ambulance or take me to hospital. I thought maybe we could catch a taxi to London, but after finding out it would be well over £100 I miraculously felt well enough to catch the bus. A decision that turned out to be fine as the gentle motion of the bus sent me off to sleep.

So to cut an extremely long (and arduous) story short, the dinner that we had been planning for months at St John was attended by only Cat and Panu and I stayed home, too sick to even drink tea. And I wasn't even well enough to eat the next night either! But by the end of the following day, which was also my final day in London, I was ravenous so we went to Chinatown for soy chicken, duck and steamed gai-lan. It was awesome and the three of us inhaled that dinner in 15 minutes flat, only speaking pre and post poultry. A very worthy last meal.

Cycling in snow

Visiting a place that you once lived is, as I have discovered, a little strange at times. Family aside, Cambridge has left me in the occasional tailspin. Once I was over the jet lag hump, all the familiarities started coming back to me about roads, shops, what bus to catch and where to get off etc. And then it took a very stern conversation with myself to undo the old brain program that "I am not just back from a vacation and need to find temp work again, but this is my vacation and I need to just chill out"!

For the first time since arriving and on the auspicious occasion of New Years Eve, I rode my old chariot (loaned back to me by Michèle) to visit my cousin and fellow pirate, Fine, so that we could commence our "night on the town" and bring in the new year with some amazing food and hijinks. As I peddled along Green End Road, the nuances of my old bicycle came flooding back to me and we took the familiar route past my former residence and the Green Dragon and headed towards Tesco.  By this time, I was dreading the hills I knew were coming but once I got to them and very quickly over them, it occurred to me that cycling was not as tiresome as I remember and I don't know why I thought it such a boring venture. I will even go as far as to admit it was fun, and I have since cycled all over Cambridge, in snow, frost, fog and sunshine.

NYE piratical hijinks... photo expertly taken by Fine

There are some things I remember clearly and some things that I have absolutely no recollection of at all. Take for instance, the weather in Cambridge. I don't ever remember it being this cold in my two years of living here. This trip, I have been cycling home in minus freezing temperatures, unable to feel my chin or my gloved fingers it's so cold, yet I don't ever remember doing that before. Maybe I didn't stay out late. Maybe I only ever went as far as the pub a few doors down. Maybe I was just tougher when it came to the cold. Maybe I just chose to forget. Yet in all these maybe's, this time around, I'm enjoying the ride and find it rewarding when I finally arrive at my destination. I like being one of only a few people on the road late at night. I like cycling through the common while people are playing with their dogs in the brief winter sunlight hours. I like riding around cold Cambridge, all covered in sparkling frost. I like the feeling of coming in from the cold and feeling your face defrost slowly as you enter a warm house. This visual and physical sensory experience makes me feel very much alive and almost cross that I didn't appreciate it while I was living here. Don't get me wrong - cycling in summer is even better and I remember laughingly uproariously with my colleagues when I arrived at work with bugs stuck to my lip glossed lips - but winter, this time anyway, is glitteringly magical, even with it's chill.

One thing that I don't miss though, however superficial this may seem, is humidity. I had no idea that even in the extreme cold, humidity would turn my lovely, straight, ironed, purple streaked hair, back into the wavy mess it was in before. Lucky I live in the desert.

You've cooked your Christmas goose.

I am full. And not just the regular "I'm so full I can't eat anymore", I'm full to the "I need to unbutton my jeans" full. What a day of Christmas grub!

After a morning of sparsity that included only a bowl of cereal and a cup of tea, by 2pm we were chowing down on the most lovely, tasty goose ever. The blissful thing about cooking goose is that because the animal is covered in so much fat, there is no need to continually baste it as it cooks - it bastes itself. The only thing you need to do (other than stuff it with all kinds of tasty morsels) is remove the pooling fat that is continually draining from the top of the bird. Then a few hours later, voila! A perfectly cooked, all dark meat bird ready for eating.

Not only were we lucky enough to have goose, we had brussel sprouts and crispy potatoes to go along with it, accompanied by French wine, then followed by a selection of four very different cheeses. Phew!

But it didn't end there... after a brief interlude, we had fruit cake, lovingly prepared by Spencer and cooked in a wooden box that he brought with him all the way from New Zealand. It was very tasty, and perfectly weighted between the cake and the fruit and nut selection.

And I got presents. Awesome.

Adventure Schmenture

"Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen and welcome to London. The local time here is 4:27pm and the temperature is 2 degrees celsius. Please remain seated while our plane taxis to the gate."

Indeed! What she should have said was "Good afternoon ladies and gentlemen and welcome to Terminal 5 at London Heathrow airport. Although it looks like we arrived in the middle of the night, the actual time is 4:27pm and the temperature is 2 degrees above freezing and dropping rapidly. You will be lucky to get any kind of ground transportation as the recent snow storm has traffic at a standstill and trains are suffering massive delays. Good luck getting out of the airport - you'll need it."

Initially my plane was two hours late, but all that meant was that Jet and I got to spend an extra hour together. The landing into Heathrow was probably one of the smoothest I have ever experienced, and considering how much I have travelled, that's pretty amazing. After I disembarked the plane, where earlier an angry French steward told me to "go look in Club" when I asked him for help finding a place to stow my overhead luggage, I went through Immigration. Usually a long and boring wait, I was pleasantly surprised at my short wait time, and even more surprised at how friendly my Immigration officer was! I then continued downstairs to wait for my luggage and found that it was already there waiting for me. This, I thought, was Mercury playing tricks on me.

I made it to the National Express office, where I purchased a ticket for the 787 bus to Cambridge via Luton, due for a 5:45pm departure. The lady working there advised me that there were some delays as all the airports (excluding Heathrow) were closed, but to make my way outside to wait for the bus. 5:45 passed, 6:15 passed, 6:45 passed. At 7:15pm the bus arrived, loaded the bags, and then drove to the Central Bus Station that served as the coach stop for the other 4 terminals. And it was here that we lost our driver. He left us to drive another coach in the opposite direction, but he got permission from the control room and left the inside lights on, the keys in the ignition, but the heat off until our next driver appeared.

Other travellers waiting were getting very irate but I just took out my knitting and sat in a coach that was getting colder and colder. A very mad Greek man called me Madame Defarge - the character in Charles Dickens' "A Tale of Two Cities", who during the French Revolution would knit the names of the people she wanted killed into her yarn. Admittedly I was getting very cold and tired of hearing the people working for National Express tell me "your bus is leaving in 5 minutes", but wanting people dead is a little far fetched! It's all about asking the right question, and after 4 hours of waiting I finally worked out what that question was. "Are you going to get us to Cambridge tonight?" and when I heard the answer was "yes" I was fine. The night still had quite a few hours left - especially on the shortest day of the year.

After a 6 hour wait, our bus (still containing the angry Greek man who had threatened to leave several times over) left the terminal, bound for Cambridge. And at 1:30 am I reunited with my cousins amidst a flurry of snow and ice underfoot.

England / New England... what country am I in again?

We flew to NY last night and on the way to Dobbs Ferry (where we are staying), we passed a combined Costco and Home Depot. It was giant and in my opinion, the perfect combination. Not only can you feed your family, but you can build a house for them as well!

In the daylight, driving along the highway, it is just like driving in England but on the opposite side of the road. Rolling hills, true winter where the leaves have abandoned their branches, settled snow and picture perfect houses and villages. It's like starting my European vacation early but adding a desert respite in between! I'm hoping that the 95mph tail wind that reduced our flight time by an hour is still around when I fly to London.