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British Quakes and Lunchbox Dynamics
TUESDAY: Lunch today is more basil tofu on a Ploughman's roll, i.e. a small baguette, accompanied by a container of fruit. Today it's a mixture of slices of Clementine, Conference pear, big bulbous white grapes, and blueberries. (Sure, I'm a bit particular and eccentric about my food; but any former workmates from Northrop days will be reminded of the "Dining With Jamie" column in the Impact Enquirer.
This week I was going to relate the entire story of my current job: how I ended up with it and how, since October of last year, I've been mistreated by the Human Resources department to the point where my pay rate was lowered; and how, in light of the European Directive on Part-Time Workers, certain sectors in Britain, most notably the academic sector, are not doing what they should be doing but are instead exploiting their casual workers (who have established continuity) by withholding the rights and benefits they have legally earned. If you want to read my entire spiel just ask and I'll e-mail it to you. But it's not really very amusing.
My final word on this subject is simply that if anybody out there in the Sheffield area wants to hire a creative-thinking, hard working, detail-oriented writer, proofreader, and/or HTML/CSS whiz who has a decade of experience as a software developer and can easily learn new programming languages and systems, and who can type 95 words per minute and converse and spell in both British and American, who believes in correct punctuation and grammar, and who can speak a spattering of Russian, French, and Spanish, who is physically fit, who wears red lipstick, and who can draw, play piano and mandolin, juggle and be witty in the face of adversity, please don't hesitate to contact me...
THURSDAY: Yesterday my lunch was a bit odd. In other words, it consisted of whatever I could find in the fridge: a cheese and onion roll with old bits of Edam and Wensleydale cheeses, a spring onion and red pepper, and a bit of Dijonnaise. But at least the round sandwich fit into my square plastic container (with rounded corners), just like the standard bap. Today it's cheddar, onion, and English mustard on the only option I had: two large slices of Hovis Granary. Sadly whenever I use regular sliced bread for my sandwiches they don't fit correctly into my square plastic container (with rounded corners). So if the bread is small it flops around uncomfortably, flapping its slices apart and spewing its ingredients here and there. If the bread is too big, like today, the only way I can fit the sarnie into my container is by placing one half snugly inside and then cramming the other in, squashing half of it onto the first half. And this creates a very ugly-looking sandwich. Ah, well, I'll eat it anyway.
The night before last I experienced my first non-Pacific-Coast earthquake. Registering 5.2 on the Richter scale it was centred under Market Rasen in North Lincolnshire, felt as far away as Edinburgh, Northern Ireland, and the South Coast, and it caused some damage in South Yorkshire and Lincolnshire. Only one person was injured, but that's still a lot for a UK earthquake. I mean, these islands are not exactly known for their seismic activity. Even though this is the third British earthquake I've heard about in the past 7 years, I would be very surprised if British faultlines ever gained tourist attraction status like they have in California. (Witness the "Now Crossing the San Andreas Fault" signs on Interstate 5.)
But still, this week's quake was an E-ride for me. Having grown up in Southern California, where earthquakes are as common as movie premieres, and having personally experienced the 1971 Sylmar quake -- which measured 6.6, killed 65 people, and damaged two hospitals and a major freeway interchange -- and the 1987 Whittier Narrows quake – which, at a lesser 5.9, still killed 8 people and damaged masonry buildings in Whittier and Pasadena -- I figured one of the things that I would be giving up by moving to the UK, along with good Mexican food, would be earthquakes. And I would also be giving up all the habits that come with them, such as bolting one's furniture to the walls, never hanging a glass-framed picture over the bed, and keeping a safety helmet handy at all times.
But how wrong I was! At 12:55am Tuesday night I awoke instantly, possibly as a result of the usual babbly trail of drunken students staggering up my road, but possibly as a result of an initial tremor. A few seconds later I realised we were having an earthquake and I lay in my bed, enjoying the tremor like a surfer enjoys a rare wave. This is brilliant!, I thought to myself, even though I'm ashamed to admit I was a tad disappointed that there was no sound of breaking glass or at least the sound of things falling off shelves to accompany the quake. But a nearby house alarm did go off and stayed screaming for quite some time.
I feel sad that so many of my British friends slept through the quake, completely oblivious, because it is such a rare occurrence. When I lived in Seattle in the 1990s, my friend Robert left his hometown of Chicago to move to Seattle. In 1996, during the only earthquake I experienced there that was strong enough to feel, Robert was living in a basement room with his dog Soter, who was the size of a small planet; and upstairs was a woman with two large dogs. So Robert thought the tremors were simply caused by the dainty feet of giant canines romping about.
Apparently, like Robert, quite a few Brits didn't realise they were experiencing an earthquake. Some of the scenarios imagined included intruders in the house, an intruder under the bed, a plane crash, a nuclear attack, a gas explosion, a vivid nightmare, an elephant stampeding around the room, a sleeping partner snoring violently, and a giant lizard attacking the city. Personally I like the Godzilla idea, because when I used to play SimCity on my computer with the sole intention of destroying a city I always ended up bringing in the Creature from Outer Space which looked a bit like a jar of Marmite left in the microwave too long.
FRIDAY: More on my square plastic container (with rounded corners): I find a long crusty roll, such as the sesame roll I have today, fits perfect into the container if I slice it on just the right diagonal so that the cut end and the shorter end of each half fit into each corner (see below). But then I've always loved mathematical and spatial puzzles. (Did I mention that in my above list of employable assets?)
The Alumin(i)um Debate
TUESDAY: Lunch isn’t very exciting: a sandwich with cheddar, red onion, red pepper, and English mustard. This week is a very tight one financially, so I couldn’t afford to buy anything interesting for my lunch. So it’s cheese, cheese, and more cheese, so I won’t mention it again this week. My fruit is a bit more interesting: white grapes, clementine and mandora slices, and strawberries. I don’t know where the strawberries have come from, but I’m sure my carbon footprint is quite a bit bigger than usual this week. Guess I'll have to buy some bigger shoes.
As I don’t like soggy sarnies I never put sliced tomatoes in my packed sandwiches. And I mean tomatoes, pronounced “to-MAH-toes” and not “to-MAY-does”, as I used to pronounce the word before living in England. Not that my American accent will ever change, but a language should be spoken as the natives speak it, specifically using the local pronunciation of names and words.
Having always been good at foreign languages I pride myself on my command of British English. I’ll admit I do slip sometimes, especially when I’m overtired or I’ve just been talking on the phone to my American mother. But I’ve been here long enough to adeptly pronounce the word oregano “o-ree-GAH-no” instead of “o-RAY-ga-no”, to wear “knickers” as opposed to “panties” and “trousers” as opposed to “pants”, to keep a torch in the glove box and to put the recycling in the boot, etc. The only word I can’t bring myself to utter comfortably is “Ta” (Thanks), as I find “Cheers” or “Thanks” much easier to spit out. But I am quite comfortable typing “ta” into text messages.
So why is the aluminium/aluminum debate such a huge issue? I’ll admit I don’t say “aluminium” more than maybe once a month on average, as I’m not a consumer of canned drinks and I do tend to refer to aluminium foil as simply foil. But why is it that on those occasions when I do mention aluminium the Brits around me make fun of me, saying, “You mean a-LOO-mi-num!” and then a tired argument inevitably starts about why the Americans dumped the second i and otherwise mangled the entire English language. And often it quickly branches out into other aspects of American culture. Personally I get very tired of explaining over and over to my friends that I am not the only American in existence who is not a loud, obese, right-wing George W. Bush-supporting Christian. Good god, how the hell do they explain why I spent most of my life living in America? If I were the only one like me I would have quickly spurned civilisation and probably moved into a cave to live on raw meat. Or at least raw vegetables…
But I digress. The fact is the Americans didn’t dump the second i’s in aluminium and speciality due to pure laziness caused by obesity and religious extremism. I mean, come on, guys! What about those Aussies? Like French, English is a language of many continents and cultures. So, as they say in America, get over it!
At least nobody complains about the way I pronounce “Marmite”…
WEDNESDAY: I’m sorry, I am mentioning it again, simply because I found a tin of tuna in the cupboard this morning. It was a matter of being sick of cheese sandwiches which made me spend 5 extra minutes this morning making myself a tuna sandwich. It’s actually quite good: tuna mixed with capers and caper vinegar, chopped red pepper and mushroom and spring onion, fresh basil, and sprinkles of dried thyme, chipotle chilli powder, cayenne, black pepper, and cumin, all on a breadcake with a thin smattering of cream cheese to hold it on. It's almost exotic.
Attack of the Tescos
I grew up in Los Altos, a suburban part of Long Beach, California. In my childhood Los Altos consisted of streets and avenues full of single-storey 1950s homes that were accommodated by an uncovered shopping mall and Hiram's grocery store, which was situated on the corner of Palo Verde Avenue and Spring Street. As I grew up Hiram's was eventually taken over by Lucky Supermarkets, while another supermarket called Alpha Beta appeared kitty corner, and eventually on a third corner of the same intersection National Lumber was erected.
After being away for a number of years I wasn't too surprised to discover on a visit that Lucky had become an Albertsons supermarket, Alpha Beta had transmogrified into a Spring Farms supermarket, and National Lumber had joined the supermarket glut by turning into a Stater Brothers. Fair enough -- change happens.
But I was a bit shocked to learn from a friend that one of Britain's Big 4 supermarket chains, Tesco, is infiltrating not just America but my childhood neighbourhood with their new line of Fresh and Easy Neighbourhood Markets. Yes, they have knocked Spring Farms out of the competition and set up shop at Palo Verde and Spring, only a few metres away from my old high school and a mere 1.3 miles from the house where I was raised.
The opening of this new Los Altos Tesco is to be followed in a matter of days by 5 more Fresh and Easy openings, which seems like extremely rapid expansion to me. When I checked out the Tesco website I discovered to my surprise that their first US store opened in November in Hemet, California, an inland town 90 miles from Los Angeles where my grandparents, as well as many other grandparents, lived in trailer parks when I was young. Now that Hemet has expanded into a thriving metropolis of 66,000, I suppose it seemed an appropriate launch pad for a viral explosion of Tescos, as in 4 short months 50 Fresh and Easys have opened in Southern California, Las Vegas, and Phoenix, Arizona. And next year there are plans to open 19 more in and around Sacramento, discreetly infiltrating the California seat of government with their stocks of baked beans, crumpets, and Marmite. Can the Terminator stop this? I doubt it...
It was only last year that the citizens of my local Sheffield neighbourhood succeeded in stopping Tesco from moving in. Commonside was adequately supplied with a corner shop and a Co-Op, with several other small shops and news agents within walking distance and a large Tesco just down the hill. When Tesco announced its plans to install a shop on an abandoned corner previously home to a petrol station, a petition was quickly drawn up against it. In one of many recent examples of the strength of ordinary Brits against Tesco, we won!
And to think that my Southern Californian mother may be doing her weekly shopping at Tesco...
SUNDAY UPDATE: I read in yesterday's Guardian that the Fresh and Easy chain is in trouble, missing sales targets by 70%. So their plans to open 1000 outlets all over the western United States may be in trouble. Locals in Los Angeles have described the Fresh and Easy “convenience stores” as too middle-market, eg. not cheap but not gourmet, while the self-serve checkout machines turn a lot of customers off.
On second thought, I doubt my mother will be shopping there much.
Sandwiches and Mexican Food
MONDAY: I have to mention my lunch today because it is purely a result of leftovers of a meal prepared by friends. Not only is this the very first time I have ever eaten a sandwich with vegetarian duck -- "vegetarian mock duck", as my friend referred to it -- with cream cheese, avocado, red pepper, and spring onion in a crusty French roll, but it will probably be the last. Not because it isn't good, but the sandwich dice may never roll quite the same way again.
THURSDAY: Lunch is another French roll with haloumi cheese and fresh basil and my usual red pepper/spring onion garnish. As a pescavegetarian I like haloumi sandwiches because they taste and feel substantial. The sliced cold haloumi looks a bit like sliced boiled egg whites, but oh, what a surprise when you bite in: it's definitely more exciting than egg whites.
One thing I really like about living in England is that when you buy a sandwich, whether it's premade in a shop or fresh prepared in a café or pub, it's always the right size with a civilised amount of filling. As a thin active woman with a medium-to-light appetite I can easily eat an entire English sandwich, which is something I could never do with American sandwiches because the sandwiches tend to be the size of houses. If I ordered a sandwich in Seattle or California I had two options: either share it with a friend or take half of it home in a doggy bag. There was a rare place in my Seattle neighbourhood which served great sandwiches on freshly baked bread, and they sold both sandwiches and half-sandwiches. I thought this was brilliant because I could be my own self and choose my own sandwich without having to rely on compromising with a sandwich partner.
In England no one would dream of selling half sandwiches. I mean, who would order them? The average sandwich is so small even the lightest eaters I've known can polish off at least three quarters, and the average young man will simply pack multiple sandwiches for lunch. If anybody in America dared to eat two American sandwiches for lunch, everybody would consider him or her to be a gluttonous pig.
On the subject of basic food, all is not in the UK's favour. As much as I look forward to tackling my own sandwiches I am appalled at the UK's poor excuse for Mexican food. First of all, what are referred to as "corn tortillas" bear absolutely no resemblance to the humble Mexican flatbread. I mean, a corn tortilla is a simple creation made of masa harina (corn flour cooked in lime) and water. That's it. It has no wheat flour, no wheat gluten, no hydrogenated vegetable oil, no raising agents, and no glycerol. An authentic Mexican corn tortilla is perfect safe for anybody with a gluten intolerance. In stark contrast the second ingredient listed for Old El Paso Corn Tortillas is wheat flour. When I tried an Old El Paso corn tortilla I was appalled because not only was it tasteless but the texture was like floury cardboard. Anyone who's had a freshly made corn tortilla in a Mexican restaurant would never in a million years think of floury cardboard. Oh, how I wish Trader Joe's could deliver their handmade corn tortillas directly to my Yorkshire door...
Tortilla chips are another great disappointment. In America, at least on the Pacific Coast, Doritos are considered a salty junk-food snack not really in the same category as proper Mexican restaurant tortilla chips, which also have a very simple ingredient list: masa harina and vegetable oil for frying. Along with corn and vegetable oil the Doritos sold in the UK also contain artificial colourings, soya oil, at least one additive beginning with "disodium", cheese solids, milk proteins, and MSG. So when I opened a package of American tortillas chips sent to me by a Seattle friend, my English mealmates were very impressed by the difference.
And then there's the subject of chilli beans and refried beans. I'm sorry, but they absolutely must be pinto beans. Never kidney beans. Never, never, never!
I have spoken. Now it's back, sadly, to my non-Mexican lunch...
