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Us v. Them
WEDNESDAY: As a change from cheese, lunch today is a tuna sandwich. As my old California workmates would know, I'm really not a fan of tuna and mayo, and I am a bit particular about my tuna sandwiches. For one thing, I prefer tuna steak (or albacore in the States) and I much prefer it in brine rather than in oil. This morning, however, the only tuna in the house was tuna chunks in oil, so that's what I've used, draining it well. Then I mixed it with capers, a dash of caper vinegar, and chopped red pepper, and seasoned it with fresh coriander leaf, dried thyme, cumin, and cayenne. I make it differently every time depending on my mood and the available ingredients. And to keep it from falling out of my breadcake I use a thin slather of cream cheese for glue. As far as this blog is concerned it's Tuna Sandwich Experience No. 3. For fruit I've got some cantaloupe -- possibly my last cantaloupe of this gloriously tropical summer fruit season -- and some plump red grapes. And I'm eating it all in the newly lilac-and-blue staff room livened up by the same old fridge hum and air circulation buzz, not to mention the sound of Edward tripping over one of the new coffee tables.
This past Friday I was interviewed by phone on BBC Radio Sheffield. The last 2 times I was on Radio Sheffield I was prepared and eager to talk about coffee and tea. This time, however, I was sleep deprived and slightly hung over from my Thursday evening festivities, and the questions I was asked about the American Presidential campaign just didn't inspire my struggling mind. For instance, I attempted to answer the question about the difference between the Democrats and the Republicans, but as soon as I started I was so bored with the question that I was even more uninterested in my reply. They're 2 different parties, that's all, with the Democrats generally more liberal than the Republicans and the Republicans generally more conservative than the Democrats. But there are always exceptions, as there are with any generalisations.
Which brings me to this week's subject. (I suppose it's more of a beef, although being a pescavegetarian I prefer the taste of subject.) This week I'm talking about generalisations and stereotypes directed toward enormous chunks of the population -- for instance, the believe by many Brits I've encountered that America is a land full of obese Bible-bashing gun-toting Bush-loving conservatives who are anti-abortion and pro-capital punishment. Now, I could argue that there are quite a few thin atheist Bush-hating liberals who are pro-abortion and anti-guns and capital punishment. But what about the slightly overweight Socialists? And what about the staunch Democrat pro-hunting self-called rednecks you find in some states? What about the Unitarian single moms who voted for Ross Perot in 1996? What about the middle-of-the-road beer-bellied apathists who don't have an opinion on abortion or capital punishment but who vehemently hate guns? I used to think of the Atlantic and Pacific Coasts as being more liberal and the heartland of the country as being more conservative, but how does that explain the California Conservative Movement or that great progressive from Texas, Molly Ivins?
Here in the UK there are stereotypes involving Northerners v. Southerners. When I lived "down South", eg. in Kent, and we were planning on moving to "the North", eg. Yorkshire, I was warned by my small number of Southern friends that I would find life miserable "up there". They honestly believed that in the North the pubs were filled with men while the women stayed at home cooking -- Yorkshire puddings, obviously -- and cleaning. When we moved to "the North" we were surprised to find not only a warm and friendly population whom we befriended instantly, but also pubs that were filled not only with men and women, but with women who were drinking full pints and appearing to have a good time, as opposed to the Southern women with their half pints I always saw who often looked angry, thoroughly bored, or at least like they were dealing with a mouthful of Marmite. I know that could be construed as my own Northern and Southern stereotypes, but it's my honest observation. Obviously I realise there are happy full-pint-guzzling women in Kent and miserable half-pint-sipping women in Yorkshire. So you really can't make generalisations about anybody anywhere.
I'm just glad I live in the North, away from all those sour-faced provincial "Souv'ners" with their million-pound homes and those horrid accents…
The Teletext Theory of Existence
TUESDAY: I'm too busy to postulate, compare, or gripe today, but I've got to mention my lunch. It's brie, cashews, sun dried tomatoes, and fresh dill on a Sainsbury flat seedy roll. Mmmm, good! it really is. I'd sell this in a cafe if I had a cafe, or at least in a sandwich shop. I could call it Cashew Dill Brie Sandwich with Sun dried Tomatoes or something equally descriptive. Or else perhaps just Fred.
WEDNESDAY: On this inaugural day of the Large Hadron Collider my sandwich is a simple one: Stilton on seedy roll with the merest hint of mango chutney. Like a simple beam of blue and yellow particles all going in one direction it's not meant to chart new territory or to prove the existence of anything. It's only meant to taste good.
This morning at 8:28 BST the scientists at Cern in Switzerland turned on the Large Hadron Collider, sending bundles of protons around the 4.4-mile-long inner ring. At around 11:00 a stream of particles was sent in the opposite direction. Fifteen minutes later I was chatting with my workmates about what all this means and could mean. I suppose "chatting" isn't the right word: "expounding, babbling, and foaming at the mouth with zeal" is probably a more accurate description of what I was doing. We spoke of the proof or disproof of string theory and the Higgs boson. Everybody instantly warmed to the idea of string theory being validated, specifically the proof of extra dimensions existing beyond the ones of which we are physically aware. As we moved books along the library shelves we imagined an alternate life form, perhaps even extraterrestrial, sitting at cafe tables and sipping cappuccinos in the exact space where we were shelving books, perhaps aware of us but perhaps not. I was leaning toward the idea that we would each be unaware of the other because in my mind I was just then formulating my Teletext Theory of the Universe.
For Americans who aren't familiar with Teletext, it is sort of a plain-text information, news, and directory system available on UK and European televisions. Because there is a time delay between the actual display of one line of raster data in a broadcast TV signal and the next, Teletext information can be broadcast in the vertical blanking interval (VBI) which occurs between image frames. (For those wondering why this didn't take off in America, it's probably because the higher-definition PAL television system used in the UK consists of 625 scan lines and the NTSC system used in America is only 525 scan lines.) What this means is that when we switch our TV to Teletext, we can access information completely separate from the regular television broadcast because it is displayed alternately, eg. at a different time in different scan lines. So if we have 10 space-time dimensions but we're only using 4 of them, it makes sense that somebody else could be using the other 6 dimensions -- sort of like a timeshare universe.
As one revelation progresses into another, I'm afraid I must expand on this theory. In the UK more people live in less space than in America, so the UK portion of the universe could be more high-definition than the American portion. Would that mean that those of us here in Yorkshire are sharing our space and time with significantly more life forms than Californians are? Does this mean Brits have the potential to experience significantly more telepathic episodes, hauntings, and other paranormal experiences than Americans? Or is it simply because the Brits are more likely to be barking mad?
I'd like to expound further, but I've just received a conference call on my mobile from Uri Geller, Isaac Newton, and Cleopatra which I need to attend to before Amelia Earhart texts me back…
The search for chiles in a chilli world
WEDNESDAY: Lunch today is a fresh local bakery granary breadcake with vegetarian turkey slices, cream cheese, spring onion, and sundried tomatoes. What a nice change from cheese, with the oil from the sundried tomatoes adding a nice bit of moisture to the dry Quorn slices.
THURSDAY: As this may well be my last day at the City Centre campus, I decided to treat myself to a slice of pizza at Alfie + Bella. Sadly there was none of their gorgeous goat cheese and artichoke pizza, and of the 3 choices 2 were meat pizzas. So I've settled for a slice of margarita which, although not terribly interesting, is still quite good. And a "slice" is actually 2 slices here. As the University term starts next week this popular café is absolutely buzzing today, and my cold-infected ears are throbbing from the din.
FOLLOWING WEDNESDAY: Lunch on this runny-nose day is a very runny Mediterranean houmus and cream cheese on a Tesco malted grain breadcake with chopped red pepper, spring onion, and pimiento-stuffed olives, seasoned liberally with cayenne. It's surprisingly delicious, just a bit splooshy considering I keep having to stop to blow my nose.
Seeing as how I'm trying to start writing a coffee column and studying for an exciting job interview, I think I'll keep it simple this week. Instead of discussing the global economic crisis and the bizarre turn of the Presidential election I'll just complain some more about food.
This weekend one of the newspaper magazines featured a recipe for stuffed poblano chillies. Naturally this recipe sounded delicious to me, as I've missed my own chile rellenos, made with poblano chiles*, ever since I moved to the UK. I can manage to make refried beans and tolerable burritos only because I can purchase pinto beans and tolerable flour tortillas in the country, even in Sheffield. But to make a proper chile relleno one needs fresh poblano or pasilla chiles, or Anaheims at the very least. But where am I to find any?
(*As the Brits spell it chilli and the Americans spell it the more correct chile I'm using both spellings, depending on whether I'm speaking from a British or an American reference.)
Obviously the majority of Brits who read this newspaper recipe live in or around London, where I imagine all sorts of "exotic" produce can be found, even if it's only in one tiny ethnic grocery hidden away in an unexpected backstreet. Perhaps there's even a tiny Mexican community hiding somewhere in the greater London area. When I first moved to the Pacific Rim city of Seattle I was surprised to learn that the second most commonly spoken language in Seattle homes was Spanish due to the large Mexican community, which explained why there are so many good Mexican restaurants in Seattle.
I doubt, however, that there are many Mexicans or central or southern Americans living and shopping in South Yorkshire. (I have met one Mexican in Sheffield, during the last World Cup, but he was a visiting student.) As a result I doubt there are any shops that sell fresh poblano chillies.
So I did what anybody would do in this day and age when searching for something locally unavailable: I went online. I managed to find 2 UK websites offering fresh poblano chillies, one located in Dorset and one in Devon. But I was turned off by the prices: £1.10 per poblano, or £2.50 for a packet of 3. One of them even offered serrano chillies at £2.20 for 6. Considering I used to buy these small hot very useful chiles in Seattle at a ridiculously low price -- 6 serranos would have cost only a few cents -- I was a bit put off. To make chile rellenos for me and my two housemates I would need 6 poblanos minimum -- and since I need to blacken them over a flame and then stuff them I prefer each of my poblanos to be the appropriate shape which can be assured only if I choose my own poblanos.
In the interest of getting English people interested in having fresh poblanos available, I'll describe the basic chile relleno. (Sorry -- I must go into the American spelling for this.) You take aforementioned poblano chile -- or pasilla or even the mild Anaheim, which are all large chiles which are mildly hot. Then you blacken the chile under a grill or over a flame until the skin is black. Then you wrap it in wet kitchen roll for a few minutes, remove the skin and the seeds, then stuff it with a fat strip of white cheese (I add some raisins or sultanas), dip it in beaten egg, fry it on both sides in a small amount of olive oil, and serve it with a sauce made of sautéed tomato, onion, garlic, serrano chiles, and coriander leaf. A little dollop of sour cream is an excellent garnish. If you don't have serrano chiles, which you won't have if you live in South Yorkshire, you can use any small moderately hot green chilli. (There I go again -- now I'm talking about British chillies. Don't worry -- I'm as confused as you are.) But you must have poblanos or Anaheims. You just can't make a chile relleno otherwise.
I'm going to try to talk a chilli-growing acquaintance into growing poblanos because he's eaten them as well -- during a trip to the Americas, obviously. In the meantime I'm hoping that enough local people read this blog and get the urge to try chile rellenos, in which case there could be a big push to get poblano chillies in our greengrocer shops.
¡Olé! ¡Vámanos! ¡Mas poblanos, por favor!
