Takin' it to the Streets

I‘m overcome temptation at 9 o-clock in the morning, every day that I walk to class.  That’s because I have to walk by the street food vendors.   The two stalls, side-by-side, are the hot dog man and the peanut man.  And somehow, the smell of the two together is really quite enticing.  The hot dog man brings about a smoky sweetness with his grilling sausages and tangy, nose-tingling fried onions.  And then a sickly sweet smell emanates from the peanut man and his huge vat of bubbling caramel and nuts.  Yet I resist.  I have yet to succumb to the products of these good gentlemen.  The stories I’ve heard of street food poisoning haunt my mind and I overthink the cleanliness of these little booths and the cooking utensils.  And, as good as it smells, how will it taste?


But then, last week, my street food stall perceptions changed completely.


You see, this week is London Restaurant Festival. Normally this would be the most exciting thing in the world for me.  The restaurants have new menus, just for fortnight, awards are given, events held, and it’s all in the name of London food.  The bad news: the events are unbelievably expensive.  If there is one thing that needs to be said about London food culture, it is that it’s not for the frugal.  If you are okay with living on soup and sandwiches for the rest of your life, I’m sure you could get by, but if things like meat or homemade dishes are important to you, then it’s gonna cost a pretty penny.  So I was slightly disappointed that I couldn’t exactly participate in this food festival… 

…That is, until I read an article about the Street Kitchen.  Award-winning chefs Jun Tanaka and Mark Jankel were really thinking about us poor college kids when they came up with this contribution to the London Restaurant Festival.  Instead of participating with their own restaurants, they decided to set up a mobile pop-up restaurant, called the Street Kitchen, in Covent Garden for two weeks, serving gourmet British style food for pennies.  The chefs said, “We thought it would be great to do something more accessible for the Restaurant Festival – fundamentally it should be for all Londoners.”  They were even inspired by the high-quality food of New York’s street vendors and hoped to bring that aspect to London’s notoriously lacking street food.  From this goals came the Street Kitchen and Tanaka and Jankel have been diligently cooking, grilling, and frying on their cart for the past week.  And with five gourmet menu options, including dessert, how could I pass this up?  The food is local, organic, cheap, and prepared by renowned chefs, and the money they make is going to charity. 


 So on Wednesday I finally got my street food fix.

I chose the grilled, smoked fillet of salmon, with roasted beets and potatoes.  And for six pounds, I could not believe the quality, especially of the salmon.  The smoky flavor was very interesting.  It kind of added a bit of that taste of burnt marshmallows, but in a really good way.  It was kind of sweet, kind of savory, and had a lovely salty fresh fish taste.  It was incredibly moist and flaky and served with a mustardy cream sauce and fresh dill.  The potatoes, seasoned with horseradish and the beets were superb accompaniments.  And I loved the laid back quality of it all.  The cooks inside the stall were relaxed and joking, having fun doing their job, and despite the fact that the food was gourmet, the atmosphere of the Street Kitchen was very unpretentious.  I will be sad to see it go, but am so happy I was able to participate in London Restaurant Festival, without putting serious damage on my bank account.

Oh, and as a little postscript, the Street Kitchen must have put me in a street food mood, because the next day, I succumbed to my senses and had to check out the source of a sweet smell coming from a little stall outside the Tube station.  It was The Belgian Food Company’s waffle stand, featuring Belgium’s lesser-known Liege waffles. These are NOT the classic waffles made from pancake batter that we have in the states.  Not at all.  These waffles are actually made from yeast dough, are left to rise, and are then coated in pearl sugar before being placed on the waffle iron.  What emerges is a much sturdier waffle, very tender and bready, yet sweet on the inside.  The outside however is what’s significant.  The sugar, melted from the heat of the iron, coats the waffle, and after being removed, hardens into a crunchy, caramel/burnt sugar shell.  After the first bite, I was in complete bliss, vowing never to let any street food prejudices stop me again.

A Wee Shift in Cultures

This past weekend took our study abroad group out of our London home to the drastically different Edinburgh, Scotland.  Originally not expecting to find much of a difference, I was surprised by the general change in atmosphere as I entered this new city.  The people were welcoming and friendly, the streets, narrower and curving and meandering about.  A quick glance of my surrounding revealed not obstruction by buildings but gave way to beautiful landscapes of cliffs, castles, and the coast.  As always, I was also very interested in seeking out the differences in the food.  And, I was very pleased at the outcome of this endeavor.

My Traditional Scottish Food Finds

1. Shortbread:

These little biscuits, so simple in ingredients and presentation, can, if made right, really be quite a treat.  Originally starting as a biscuit that the Scots made from hardened, leftover bread dough, shortbreads were then turned into more of a dessert, saved for special occasion and well-like by Mary, Queen of Scots.  While in Scotland, I was tempted to pick up a tin of the traditional Walker’s Shortbread from a souvenir shop, but its mass-production and tourist quality deterred me and sent me looking for something a bit more homemade.  I found my prize at The Elephant House, and amazing café, with great, hearty food and coffee, and well known for being the place where J.K. Rowling first starting writing Harry Potter.  There in the display case, sat a mountain of shortbread biscuits, shaped like elephants, waiting for my consumption.  They were so delicate and crumbly, just as shortbread should be, so that every bite fell apart in my mouth, dissolving into sweet, buttery goodness.  My intention was to save half for later, but as soon as I wrapped the elephant’s behind in a napkin, I couldn’t resist from immediately unwrapping it and gobbling down the remains.

2. Whisky

I was quick to discover that the Scots are very fond of their whisky and amongst the rows and rows of wool goods shops, I found just as many devoted to the sale of single-malt Scotch whisky.  Curious about its history, I decided to take a tour and tasting at The Scotch Whisky Experience.  The tour started with a little ride in a barrel-shaped car and I learned about the entire production process where nothing but water, barley, and yeast, (Scotland’s available resources) go though a tumultuous and lengthy process to become whisky.  The source of the ingredients, the shape of the distilling bottles, the wood used for the casks, the amount of time spent aging, and so many more factors play into creating distinct whisky flavors.  The process is one of science and art requiring patience beyond belief and tedious precision.  I was then told about the different regions in Scotland and why the whisky from these different regions differs in flavor.  For our tasting, we had to pick one of these regions (I chose the Highlands whisky with notes of vanilla and heather).  It tasted okay and the vanilla flavor was slightly detectable after I got over the initial burning sensation but Scotch whisky, as I learned, is not for those with delicate tastebuds.

3. Haggis

So now I get to the one you’ve probably been waiting for, Scotland’s most renowned, traditional dish.  For those of you who may not know, haggis is the result of resourcefulness when food availability was low and people had to use every last scrap.  Essentially, haggis is minced sheep’s innards, like the heart, liver, and lungs, combined with oats, suet, spices, and onion, and traditionally cooked in the sheep’s stomach lining, although it is now usually cooked in a casing for sanitary purposes.  The cooked meat is traditionally serve with “neeps and tatties”, aka turnips and potatoes, and a gravy of some sort.  It was popularized and turned into a Scottish national dish after Robert Burns wrote the poem Address to a Haggis.

So, after some convincing, I rounded up a group to accompany me in a giant haggis tasting.  We chose a small but well-respected pub called The Royal Mcgregor for our feast and anxiously awaited our meal.  The dish was prepared as a “tower of haggis”, layered with the meat on the bottom, the potatoes in the middle, and the turnips on top.  I thoroughly inspected this foreign spectacle before finally skewering a sample of all three layers with my fork and taking the first bite.  And it was delicious!  The most notable part was the meat’s texture.  The best likeness I can conjure is meatloaf, but the haggis was much creamier.  The oats turned it into an almost glutinous paste, which I found appealing.  The meat itself was a little more gristly and chewy, rather than tender, and was speckled with these little crunchy bits that were slightly nutty.  I’m not quite sure what they were, but I enjoyed the all the same.  The spices were strong, but not overpowering, and complemented the gaminess of the meat.  

The neeps and tatties, prepared to still be a little chunky, nicely accompanied the rich meat and toned down the spiciness.  And, perhaps the best part of all was the rosemary and onion gravy, which actually carried a very nice hint of lime that cut through the heaviness of the dish.  All of us loved it and cleared our plates with gluttonous haste.  We proved that if we go beyond the misconceptions that lesser used meat is gross, we can find a real delight and can start to change the way we cook and eat, to be more economical and outgoing.  We finished off the meal with a traditional Scottish dessert called cranachan, a pudding of whisky scented whipped cream, berries, and oats, and waddled back to our hotel, pleasantly stuffed.

So that is Scottish food in 2 days.  I covered the basics, tried something new, and enjoyed the little break from my London food exploration.  

The Great London Pub

I’m walking down the lonely streets of London, half past 8:00. I shudder slightly, pulling my jacket tighter as a fine mist of rain floats gently down. My accompaniments and I don’t say much.  It’s one of those nights where silence, like the cold, pervades us and our energy is better spent staying warm.  And then it's there.  In the distance a glow through paneled windows calls us forth as do the muffled voices from within.  The bounty of falling petunias and impatiens in the window boxes welcome us whilst a creaking wooden sign above the door proudly bears a name.  We have entered the London pub.

The pub, a term derived from “public house” during the Victorian era, has been around for thousands of years since the days that the Romans ruled England. And naturally, throughout the pub’s entire history, there was drinking.  Ale was safe to drink when water wasn’t and provided stress relief after long days of working.  The weary traveler was later offered lodging too, along with the nourishment.  The alehouse was the place for the common man to relax, warm up, eat, drink and socialize.  And, with London’s less than desirable weather and a large population of hardworking people, the pub holds the same purposes today. 

artwork by Andrew Yeung http://artpost-ay.blogspot.com/

Walking into any pub, whether it’s one with a history dated to the 1500s or a recent addition to the neighborhood, renders a complete change in atmosphere.  Compared to the drizzly outdoors, it emanates warmth from the yellow toned lights on the ceiling, the rich wood-paneled walls, and in some nicer establishments, the overstuffed squishy chairs in front of a fire.  The air is hot from the body heat of the people and thick with the yeasty smell of alcohol.  Cheerful chatter and laughter radiate all around, whether from the young couple in the corner, the pack of mates shouting over football, or the group of people dining, still in their work clothes.  The menu is filled with heavy and satisfying delights, the essential pub grub: nuts, cheese, and olives to start and sausage, mashed potatoes, roasts with peas, or fried fish with chips for the meal.  Some nicer pubs and a current fad, the gastropubs focus more on the dining experience and carry much higher quality fare, but in all pubs. the dishes revolve around the same general theme.  And the bar, the constant center of attention, is swarmed with those waiting for their brew.

  

Now do I necessarily enjoy the pub to its fullest extent? Well…how shall I put this?  To me, who generally doesn’t participate in the main activity of the pub, it can come off as a tad dull at times. But I could not fully accomplish the goals of this blog without paying tribute and proper respect to one of London’s most iconic features at least once.  Don’t get me wrong, I really do appreciate the pub for what it is, and its very rich history as a place of entertainment and provider of food and drink during all of London’s existence.  I do enjoy the more low-key places for a relaxing drink and appetizer with friends at night.   And I am, of course, very interested in seeking out the superior pub food. But a word of warning, you will not be getting the typical, crazy pub stories you may expect from a college student set loose in London; my accounts of the pub will contain a more gastronomic approach.  But this is London food culture from my perspective, so you'll just have to deal with that.

This Little Piggy Went to Market...to Become my Dinner!

As the air starts to turn chilly, the cloud cover increases, and a jacket becomes necessary to block the picked-up breeze, we start to realize that fall is fast approaching.  And as with any change of the season, we experience a change in appetite.  Fall brings about cravings for foods that retain the lightness of the fading summer dishes yet bring in some richer ingredients to subside the oncoming chill.  We associate it with cool, crispy fruits, good cheese, and orange vegetables.  We start to take more notice of the oven we neglected all summer and opt for longer, slower cooking than quick grilling.  Heavier meats are reintroduced, as are spices and herbs that bring about earthiness and warmth.  It reminds us of the holiday season not too far off and the comforts of time spent wiling away in the kitchen.   Sorry this sounds like it was written by Martha Stewart but Fall food is my favorite kind of food so I just had to have my moment to express my fondness.  

When I went to the market last week, I knew that if I didn’t make a home-cooked, Fall meal soon, I would start to panic.  Cooking is my passion and I just haven’t had the time to do it yet.  So, with a shopping list at hand, I searched for quality ingredients to make a quintessential Fall dish that also, funnily enough, happened to be a very British dish.  The menu: an English pork chop topped with apples, sage, and bleu cheese (a Jamie Oliver recipe) and served with a side of roasted purple cauliflower.  I bought every single ingredient fresh from the market including my glorious pork chop from a vendor called The Ginger Pig.  I knew I had to have this beauty when I saw it glistening pink in the case and was ecstatic at the fact that is was all-natural, free-range, organic pork, England’s signature meat.

And finally, last night, my first free night since obtaining my ingredients, I made the dish.  I literally made happy moaning noises as I took my first bite, attracting strange stares from my flatmates.  But they could hardly blame me based on the amazing aroma I had created in the room.  The cauliflower was still crisp tender with a few lightly charred edges and it had a really subtle nutty flavor from the roasting.  The pork chop was the most succulent piece of pork I have ever had in my life, a pure sign of good quality meat from happy farm pigs.  It was so juicy and flavorful, and, paired with the sweet caramelized apples, earthy sage, and strong bleu cheese, the dish as a whole was absolutely rounded in flavor.  Everything just worked so well.  It warmed me up on a particularly dreary and rainy night yet was not too heavy, took no time at all to make, and satiated my want for Fall food and desire to cook…for now at least.

Roasted English Purple Cauliflower

½ head purple cauliflower
1 clove garlic, minced
½ lemon
olive oil, salt, pepper

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees Fahrenheit (I had to do Celsius though which is 200).  Cut the cauliflower into florets and place them in an even layer in an ovenproof baking dish.  Toss in the minced garlic, squeeze the lemon over top, and drizzle a bit of olive oil over everything until it’s lightly coated.  Sprinkle with salt and pepper and toss everything to combine.  Place uncovered in the oven for 25-30 minutes until the cauliflower reaches your desired doneness (I like it still a bit crunchy so I left it in for a bit less time).  Begin preparing the pork once you place this in the oven.  When done, remove from the oven and serve immediately

English Pork Chops

1 large pork chop, with fairly thick fat cap.
½ crunchy apple (I used a cox variety) cut into about 6 wedges
4-5 sage leaves
bleu cheese (I used Stichelton)
olive oil, butter, salt, pepper

Heat the oven to 400 degrees Fahrenheit.  Lay the pork chop on a cutting board and using a very sharp knife, make cuts along the fatty edge of the chop, about every inch, going all the way through.  Our knives here aren’t very sharp so I could quite cut all the way through but I did my best.  Sprinkle the pork with salt and pepper on both sides.  Heat the olive oil in a pan over medium-high and when it’s hot, carefully place the chop into the pan.  Cook 3-4 minutes on each side until nicely browned and the fat starts to get a bit crispy.  The pork won’t be completely done yet because it will finish cooking in the oven. 

Place the chop into a small ovenproof dish and set aside.  Using the same pan, add a knob of butter to the pork juices and let it melt.  Then, add the apple wedges and sauté for about 2 minutes until soft and browned.  Lay the apples over the pork chop.  Coat the sage in a bit of oil and place then on top too.  Finally crumble as much of the bleu cheese as you desire over everything.  Pop into the oven, next to the cauliflower, for about 4-6 minutes until the pork is cooked through and the cheese is melted.  If everything works out, the pork and cauliflower should be done at the same time.  All that’s left to do is savor every single bite of this beautiful English dish!

A Market to Remember

When it comes to food, I always see myself as a bit of a nonconformist.  I am willing to spend money on a few, high-quality items rather than lots of mediocre ones.  I take great awareness of the sources of my food for better taste and more ethical production.  And, I love organic and hate preservative, as you may have guessed.  But I am by no means following a fad.  The way I eat is a way of life reflecting my whole-hearted passion for good food. I thought this way of life was a unique one until last Friday when I had an eye-opening adventure that showed me I’m not as alone as I thought. 

I had finally made it to Borough Market, London’s most famous, iconic, and extensive food and drink market.  Every food guide I read recommended it, so a trip there was a matter of complete importance.   Since the beginning of its existence in the 14^th century as a place of trade for grains, meat, and produce, it has grown exponentially.  Now, every Thursday, Friday, and Saturday, about 130 faithful traders reappear with their treasures.

Upon entering the market, the atmosphere shifts.  Even on a rainy and chilly day, it brings about a sense of warmth.  This not only comes the wafts of steam, carrying the spicy smells of freshly made curry or hot beef roast.  It also comes from the smiles of the vendors’ faces, eager to help their customers, the array of colors from the mounds of fruits and vegetables and, most importantly, the everlasting sense of community and common purpose that resides there. It is very hard to describe the extensiveness of this market to anyone who has not been there.  Any little farmer’s market in Virginia is literally trampled on by Borough and my memories of it only exist as stream of consciousness. 

I look left to see enormous cases filled with every cut of meat from every animal possible.  A large pig head is nestled in the middle, a proud look on his face from the honor of providing all these people with his organic and local interior.  I know what shop is around the upcoming corner before I even see it.  The scent of the artisanal cheeses permeates so wide a radius, I wonder how anyone could work in such pungent conditions.  That is until I’m offered a sample and the melting goodness in my mouth wordlessly erases this question.  The bigger stalls carry the fruits and vegetables on displays transformed into large rainbowed walls.  A sea of green reveals itself as various lettuces, waving their crinkled leaves in delight. The rich autumnal colors of the carrots, chard, cauliflower, and peppers follow.  The muddy brown display appears less enticing at first, until I discover the luxurious potatoes and beets hiding beneath and an array of berries glisten like precious jewels from the corner.  I tear my eyes away to carry on, only to have them pulled forcefully in another direction.  Off to the olive bars, carrying more varieties than I knew existed.  To the confectioners, sampling their sumptuous fudges, nuts, chocolates and pastries.  To the mounds of baked breads and vats of artisan granola.  To the apothecary-like stalls featuring rows of jars containing every sauce, olive oil, vinegar, jam, preserve, and spice imaginable.  And then, to the long lines of hungry people, waiting at the lunch stalls for the meal they’ve probably been thinking about all week.  And always keeping an eye out for sight of Jamie Oliver…I heard he makes many appearances there.

And this doesn’t even begin to touch the surface of this market.  It is such an overload for the senses that I could probably go back every weekend in my remaining time here and always find hundreds of new things.   I couldn’t resist from doing my grocery shopping either, and filled up my market bag with all the local and fresh products of this great country.  It took a firm tug on my arm and my heart to tear me from this market, but the thought of the raw meat in my bag was enough to make me head home for the refrigerator.  I spent the next hour after my return happily washing and trimming vegetables and playing tetris with my refrigerator to make all my bounty fit inside. 

Then, when I sat down with a delicious salad made from my purchases, I had the realization that my mindset about food really isn't so different from that of others.  Every single person at that market was there for the same reason and that was so they could get the food that they know is good for them and to support this amazing group of vendors who selflessly share their products.  Everyone there was willing to withstand the rain, the cold, and the crowds to be a part of this market and indulge in their passion for food, bask in the community atmosphere, fill up their stomachs, and stock up for the week ahead.  To me, Borough Market is at the very heart of London food culture, and even possibly all of England’s food culture.  It upholds the ideals of locality and sustainability and it brings thousands of people from all over to this one place every week.  It represents all of what a food culture should be, because it provides all natural food direct from England and is sustained by people who care.  I will, of course, return every chance I can to take advantage of that I can’t find back at home in the states.

British Food for the Win

So after that last post, I felt that it was really necessary that I follow up on my hopes of finding a restaurant where grand chefs are turning seasonal food, typical to Britain, into gastronomic wonders and show the first solid proof of the amazing potential for this food.  And, admittedly, I was also in desperate need for some protein after spending the last two hectic weeks living on yoghurt and toast.  So after a bit of research, I picked a destination: a place called Arbutus, owned by Anthony Demetre and Will Smith (not the actor), discretely tucked away on a plain street in Soho.  Although fairly new, this restaurant already has a Michelin star and is renowned for its inventive fusions of British food with French and Spanish flair.  Yet, despite its grandeur, it is well liked for the less formal and stodgy atmosphere and lower, but only slightly, prices.  So I forged ahead, with guilty thoughts of spending money pushed from my head, only to be replaced by my stomach’s cry for real food.

Although discreet and dark on the outside, Arbutus had a very welcoming feeling within; its clean and simplistic white walls and overhead track lighting brought a modern touch to the masculine dark wooden tables and black leather seating.  My lovely waitress offered me bread and butter, which I hastily accepted and thoroughly enjoyed.  It was very obviously baked in house, with a thick, slightly charred brown crust encasing a chewy pillow-like interior.  Choosing my meal, however, was a trial and the cheaper, set menu tempted me sorely, but the a la carte was to unique to resist.  I considered more curious options like ox tripe and rabbit kidneys, but settled with a simpler, humbler meal: a beetroot salad starter and aged bavette of Hertfordshire beef for a main. 

The salad could have stood as a light lunch alone and was one of those dishes that tastes so complex in flavor yet is so simple with ingredients I wonder why I don’t make things like this at home.  A rainbow of warm cooked beets in ruby, ochre, and yellow and mounds of creamy goat curd lay scattered about bed of watercress and were accentuated by slivers of marbled pink and white radishes.  All was lightly drizzled with honey and lemon vinaigrette.  The combination of flavors worked perfectly.  The sweet earthiness of the soft beets was offset by the spicy crunch of the cress and radish.  The tangy cheese mixed with the floral dressing, creating a smooth mixture that, as I ate, combined with the red color of the beets, leaving pink swirls on my plate. 

After polishing off every speck of the starter, I received my main.  I immediately picked up my fork and knife, and the second I placed the knife on the glistening brown roast, it sunk in and the meat, so incredibly tender, fell apart into a steaming, succulent pool of threads.  Melted, flavorful fat coated each strand of the beef, providing a silky texture.  Alongside the meat were pieces of roasted butternut squash, sprouting purple broccoli, and shallots, rich in flavor and swimming in the winey, oniony beef broth.  Kent cobnuts added a contrasting crunch and sprigs of thyme brightened the whole dish.  I finished every bite though only now, in embarrassment, can I image the thoughts of the suited businessmen at the next table down as they watched me, this skinny girl, eating alone, inhaling a roast beef.  I was so stuffed I had to forgo dessert, promising the maître-d that I would return for sweets and wine.  I left in a slight meat coma, so happy to start off fall with such a perfectly autumnal dish, and dazedly headed home, properly fed at last.

So if the pictures and descriptions aren’t enough to change your thoughts about British food, I really don’t know what will.  My dish may have been root vegetables and beef, but its just goes to show you that some culinary knowledge can turn a peasant’s meal into a damn good feast.  I look forward to trying a few more places like this, including Arbutus’s sister restaurant, Wild Honey and hey, I may even order the ox tripe next time too!

The Fight for Food: British Cuisine Explained

I’ve never really been one to love the museums.  They’re exciting at first, seeing artifacts and learning new things and whatnot, but I always become bored with them. I can only take viewing numerous clay pots, listening to the tour guide, or walking down cold stark halls for so long.  Well, that all changed yesterday when I found a museum exhibit that not only complied with my food interests but also conveniently provided me with an amazing topic for a blog post.  It was the Ministry of Food exhibit at the Imperial War Museum and I swear it was made just for me.

You see, World War II played an extraordinarily significant role in the shaping of England’s food culture and almost completely set the general image of English Food.  Sadly, that image is a bad one of overcooked vegetables, bland potatoes, canned goods, and the extra parts of animals.  But, as this museum shows, this food culture is misunderstood and actually resulted from amazing intentions and innovations during hard war times.  It came from people doing the best they can to survive healthfully while supporting their country.  The exhibit presented a history that puts meaning to English food and lets us respect it.

During the war, citizens were rationed heavily, limiting the amount of food they could get from a grocer.  Also, to save money, England imported much less foreign food items.  To boost morale and keep people fed, the Ministry of Food was created.  They were a governmental organization that encouraged using the surrounding land and the available resources (the factors that largely determine the food culture for any culture) and a little ingenuity to feed the family.  And in England, where the climate is cool and wet, and covered in green pastures, these resources were homegrown vegetables and fruits, a small amount of wheat, and raised animals, hence the “meat and 2 veg” label that is generally applied to English food. 

The Ministry of Food worked to increase the amount of farming done and used catchy posters and ads to teach people about economical food consumption, gardening, healthy eating, and preservation.  The kitchen and fields were glorified, vegetables were made out to look more appealing than candy, and the Ministry even encouraged the new food regime with the promise that complying would help to save the British economy.  “Dig for Victory”, “Use Spades not Ships”, and, my favorite, “Save Bread and you Save Lives, Serve Potatoes and you Serve the Country” were encouraging slogans.  Cookbooks with recipes using mostly grown and raised food (like rabbit pie and beetroot brownies) were made to help the women add variety to the table. 

Although intentions for the use of food were great, it was the goal of making food serve as many purposes as possible that led to the bad image of English food.  Wild game was reintroduced to the diet, animal hearts, kidneys, and other innards weren’t put to waste, food was canned, jellied, and pickled, and preserved like crazy, and leftover vegetables, recooked until mushy and bland, were always consumed.  But, this museum exhibit tries to glorify and explain British food and the attention that the people were paying to staying healthy and eating all natural goods and spending more time in the kitchen, bonding with the family.  And, the Ministry of Food program probably accounts for the freshness and locality of the meat and produce I’ve seen here. 

Hopefully, with the better cooking methods and gastronomic knowledge we have today, chefs can take this British food, and present it in mouthwatering ways that people can appreciate.  Hopefully we can embrace the economic lessons and love for the kitchen brought about by this period in time.  And most importantly, I hope that knowledge like this can help people to want to carry on the values of the Ministry of Food, instead of succumbing to the growing fast food nation.

I’m sorry for the perhaps dull history lesson, (this will most likely be the only post like this) but I think its essential that both you and I know some history before I go out into the world of English food, whether I’m cooking it or letting someone else do it for me. The war and this time period did not inspire all of English food, of course.  There are dishes from before and after, with their own histories, that are just as significant and I am just as excited about trying those as well.  But now, when I have a delicious English dish, I can appreciate it even more, knowing how it came about and why it is considered to be quintessentially English.  I’ve sufficiently fed my brain, now it’s time for my stomach.

Oh and as a last note, the museum also had a café of wartime food and I happily indulged in a sausage and onion jacket potato (baked potato in America) and green leaf salad.  It was so wonderfully creamy and tender, I pondered, how could people NOT love this?