My cup of tea...

This really is my cup of tea (although tea is better in the kitty cup Ryan bought for me...you know the way ice cream tastes better on a fork?) in our kitchen here in fabulous Brentwood, Essex. You know, the one that has a washing machine in it. I drank a lot of tea before I came to England, just ask my seventh graders. Tea is about the only thing they're doing right.

This leads me to the question of British cuisine (I'll take oxymorons for 100, Alex...). People in the United Kingdom are in deep denial about the quality of their native cuisine. What's funny is their obvious preoccupation with other foods. There are more Italian, Indian, Chinese, and French restaurants in Brentwood (in that order, I think) than there are pubs (and that's saying alot!) not to mention all the cookbooks available dealing with other cuisine. If you dare to address the situation, however, they are much offended. It's as though they can ignore the fact that the rest of the the world thinks their food is horrible.

Toad in the hole, bangers and mash, bubble and squeak, spotted dick? C'mon! Who wants to eat something called spotted dick? It's actually a sponge dessert (or pudding) with raisins and some not alltogether disgusting things, but it's still called spotted dick. Don't even get me started on haggis...

So, as an American who is a reasonably accomplished cook, I have dutifully looked through the "cookery books" and tried to find something that look normal or at least edible. I haven't really come up with much (with the possible exception of a recipe from Gordon Ramsay...the Hell's Kitchen guy...it was a ravioli of brioche pastry around a sphere of chocolate ganache that is deep fried and then rolled in sugar...I just gained back some weight thinking about it).

I have made tacos. That was an interesting shopping trip. And just ask Ryan about trying to find maple syrup, eh? Those of you in Erie, thank your neighbors to the north for their often underappreciated contribution. He finally found two bottles and bought both just in case! You certainly can't have (the best) French toast (ever) without syrup.

I went all traditional on Sunday and made a roast (I think that counts as the "meast and two veg"). It was better as leftovers. I think that's the point, actually.

I'm plotting on picnic-y stuff for another Friday in Canray Wharf. That shouldn't be too hard...Should it?

Tomorrow's dinner is pork chops and home-made mcaroni and cheese (which Ryan seems to think means Kraft). I have to admit, for all my abilities in the kitchen, I love some Shake 'N Bake on pork chops. The original chicken kind, not the pork. I never though I'd find it here in Englad. I was right, but I found something even funnier...