This weekend brought to you by The New Scotland Scottish Country Dance Society...

Sorry about the delay in this post - I didn't actually take any pictures (I know, I know), so I had to wait to get a hold of some on Facebook. First of all, the order of events:

We headed out to Braemar on Friday evening into a driving rain, and stopped along the way for dinner (also in the driving rain, or, rather, sheltered in a bus stop outside of the fish and chips store):

Upon arrival, there was a splendid coffee break awaiting us, prepared by our Kitchen Goddess, Linda:

(This would be why she was the Kitchen Goddess. She prepared food for fifty, for two and a half days at five to six meals or organized snacks a day)

And then, to the ceilidh, with lots of dancing and...sketchy (?) games:

This isn't really as bad as it looks. Really. It was kind of like "statues", but the positions you froze in in the middle of the dance were prescribed.

This one involved a polka and landing on a piece of paper (with your partner) when the music stopped.

And the limbo!

Saturday was filled with more food, dancing, kitchen duty, waiting for team games...

and team games (involving cold and wet walks in the woods):

And then more Sunday (the following pictures have nothing to do with Sunday, they're just shots of Bramear). If I can get a hold of more pictures of dancing, costume contest and hanging out, I'll post them!

Ares I-X, a success!

For those of you who know me, you'd better believe I've been glued to Nasa's live streaming of the first complete test launch of the new Ares rocket (designated I-X), which, if all goes according to plan, will be the rocket that takes us back to the Moon (2020!!) and beyond.

And I'm glad to report that at 1530 GMT today (after a day and a half of frustration waiting on the weather), the launch was carried out successfully with upper stage simulator and first stage separation at 130,000 ft above the Atlantic.

In the words of one of the Constellation Program Managers, "How impressive is that?"

For more information on the launch, the Ares rocket and the Constellation Program, visit www.nasa.gov, and for replays of the launch, www.nasa.gov/multimedia/nasatv.

Congratulations, NASA!

BAKE-OFF!

You know you've been waiting for this moment...when I pull out all of the stops and bake with reckless abandon in the name of the New Scotland Dance Society Fresher's Weekend trip to Braemar, in the Highlands. But you've not been as excited as I have, so let me dust the flour off my camera, rub the butter off the screen, upload those photos, and get started!

Today's festivities are brought to you by The National Trust, with Laura Mason (I believe you've been introduced), and presenting, for the first time in blog, Sarah Edington (see left).

Now, I have long been a big fan of all things ginger. My favorite cookies served at school are "ginger molasses cookies - vegan", served on Thursdays in one of the dining halls. We have a family recipe (compliements of William Sonoma's Baker's Essentials) that is even better, featuring soft, chewy chunks of crystallized ginger and a strong molasses overtone. But nothing beats straight up gingerbread. Potent, spicy, sometimes soft and sometimes crisp...

It is therefore the bane of my existance that gingerbread in the States is generally confined to the winter holiday season. Finding fresh (none of that pre-packaged, thank you very much!) gingerbread outside of Thanksgiving/Christmas is all but impossible, so imagine my surprise when I arrived in Britain and found gingerbread...everywhere! Cookies (or biscuits, if you will), breads, cakes - you name it, it comes in the gingerbread variety year-round (in fact, when I mentioned to two of my friends here that gingerbread is considered seasonal in the states, they stared at me as if I had gone mad). I particularly fell hard and fast for a variety of tea bread called Yorkshire Parkin (a frozen loaf waits in my freezer for Halloween morning).

Sorry, I'm not here to write about Yorkshire Parkin, however, as biscuits feed more than tea loaves and when a call went out for bakers to stand forth, numbers were the first thing on my mind. Hmmm...thirty to fifty people? And two new cookbooks? Gingerbread not seasonal? There's no contest there. I dove into the Complete Traditional Recipe Book (see, I'm not crazy for calling them recipe books instead of cook books!) and Farmhouse Cookery hunting for gingerbread recipes. I found 'em, too - more than I could use. So I selected three to start with, hunted down the ingredients (not an easy task), woke up early and started baking.

Notice that it's still dark in the first picture? That's not an artifact of the angle...And here's my *very* humble workspace:

(That's about true to size, too)

Now, turn to p. 274 of Edington's book and you find:

Northumbrian Ginger and Cinnamon Biscuits

"These are similar (except for the cinnamon) to the Cornish Fairings on page 277 - crisp biscuits are favourites everywhere. This recipe comes from the other end of England."

[Apparently, I'm going to have to try these Cornish Fairings...]

170 g (6 oz) butter [rough translation for the American - 12 Tbs. Yes, you read that right. 12.]

170 g (6 oz) sugar

1 Tbs golden syrup

350 g (12 oz) plain flour sifted with:

2 tsp baking soda

2 tsp ground ginger

2 tsp cinnamon

(Makes about 30 biscuits)

(If you're wondering, this is what golden syrup looks like. It's a stunning amber color and not something to let your children play with - you'll be cleaning the kitchen for hours. It's worse than molasses)

Okay, paraphrased, preheat the oven to 325 Fahrenheit and grease a baking sheet. Melt the butter and golden syrup in a saucepan, add sugar [the original calls for melting the butter, sugar and golden syrup in the saucepan, but as you've probably guessed by now, taken literally, that probably wouldn't be such a good idea. Melted sugar = candy and third-degree burns, not biscuits]. Add the flour, baking soda, ginger and cinnamon and mix well [I didn't mix well enough and ended up with pretty swirls of cinnamon in the finished product].

The dough will seem dry and crumbly, a bit like if you had cut butter into flour, but coherent. There's no additional liquid, so make sure the butter is really well distributed (I have a picture, but I couldn't get it to rotate...).

At this point, the recipe calls for "rolling small amounts of the mixture in your hands to form balls, approximately the size of a large walnut. Place these well apart n the baking sheet and flatten the top slightly of each one. Bake approximately 10-15 minutes until golden.".

With all due respect to Sarah Edington, I don't think this is how the cookies were meant to be baked (of course, I found this out retrospectively). You see, the recipe is very similar to the third one I tried today, and that one called for rolling the dough to 5mm (very thin) and cutting the biscuits. When I bake them again, that's how I'll be doing these, or else they look messy, like the ones below:

Uncooked Flattened by hand In a ball

They turn out delightfully crunchy and spicy, but without rolling, no matter how much you try to flatten them by hand, they're going to be too thick (which makes them too much of a mouthful), and lumpy (they don't change shape as they bake). Lesson learned (deliciously!).

Now turn over to p. 255:

Grantham Gingerbreads

"Grantham Gingerbreads were first created in 1740 when a local baker in Grantham, Lincolnshire, while making a flat, hard biscuit for travellers called Grantham Whetstones, added a raising agent the mixture by mistake. Since then, Grantham has taken its gingerbreads to its heart. It is know as 'the gingerbread town' and its local football team are known as 'The Gingerbreads'."

100 g (4 oz) butter

350 g (12 oz) sugar

1 egg, beaten

2-3 tsp ground ginger

250 g (9 oz) self-raising flour

(Makes about 30 biscuits)

[You've got to appreciate these biscuits for how few ingredients are involved. Talk about a college student's best friend!]

"Preheat the oven to 280 Fahrenheit. Grease a large baking tray. Beat the butter in a bowl with a wooden spoon to soften it, then work in the sugar followed by the beaten egg. Sift the ground ginger into the flour and add to the mixture, which will be quite dry and crumbly - a bit like shortbread."

Actually, not nearly as dry as the previous recipe. It comes together really nicely.

"Using your hands, bring the mixture together into about thirty small balls the size of a walnut[...]"

"...and place on the baking tray, leaving plenty of space between each one [She's not kidding about this...the unexpected happened while it was in the oven - see below]. Cook in the oven for 30 minutes. The gingerbreads should remain pale in colour and have a texture and appearance rather like a macaroon."

They turn the prettiest shade of pale gold. Think Bella-colored (like a good cup of strong black tea!)

But don't be deceived by how puffy these look! I bit into one expecting a soft, chewy cookie and was met by an unexpected, satisfying crunch. It's snappier than any gingersnap I've ever had (if less spicy), but instead of being flat, the self-rising flour creates a lot of void spaces on the inside. Flick it - it sounds like flicking glass or slate.

Moving on now to our most involved biscuit, we change over to Mason's Farmhouse Cookery, p. 158:

Ginger Biscuit Mixture for Parkin Pigs

"Another recipe from Littondale. Around 5 November, this type of mixture was used for making ginger pigs which were always known as parkin pigs."

Really, I should be making these biscuits in two weeks on the 5th of November, also known as Guy Fawkes Night, or Bonfire Night, when all of the UK is lit up by bonfires and fireworks (already appearing on Tesco shelves, get your Starmageddon Sparklers now!) in memory of Guy Fawkes, the hero?/traitor? who in 1605 nearly succeeded in carrying out the Gunpowder Plot and blowing up the British Parliament. But to start getting us in the mood -

Remember, remember the fifth of November,

The Gunpowder Treason and Plot

I see no reason why the gunpowder treason

Should ever be forgot.

(Makes around 25 parkin pigs or 50 conventional biscuits - I'm going with the latter because a) I don't have a pig biscuit cutter, and b) the conventional shape feeds more)

120 g / 4 oz granulated sugar

60 g / 2 o butter

120 g / 4 oz golden syrup

250 g / 9 oz plain flour

1 tsp baking soda

1/2 tsp baking powder

1 tsp ground ginger

1-2 Tbs milk

currants (optional depending on if you're making pigs or not)

"Put the sugar, butter and syrup in a pan and set them over a low heat. Mix the flour, baking soda, baking powder and ginger in a bowl. When the butter and syrup mixture is melted, add to the dry ingredients and stir well."

Add a little milk, just enough to make a coherent dough. Dust a work surface with [a lot of] flour and roll out to a thickness of 1/4 in [the dough will at first seem slightly tacky to work with because of the large quantity of golden syrup, but as it cools, it will feel drier and "more normal". Make sure to use a lot of flour on the work surface, the top of the dough, and grease the rolling pin, though, or it'll stick and tear like nobody's business]. [If desired], cut out pig shapes and give each a currant eye."

Do you like my trusty "rolling pin" peanut butter jar up there just above the dough?

"Bake on greased trays at 350 Farenheit for about 8 minutes (keep an eye on them, they scorch easily). Allow to cool a little bofre removing them with a spatula to a wire rack".

Is your mouth watering yet?

So, I went through this whole production trying the different recipes just to determine which I prefer. Here's my analysis:

Northumbrian ginger and cinnamon biscuits : Big points for flavor, and a nice crunch (but not crispy), almost shortbread-like texture. Not so good on the presentation, but that can be cleared up by rolling and cutting the dough.

Grantham Gingerbreads : Beautiful, picture-perfect cookies! Satifying crisp and crystalline texture! A little too sweet and not enough spice.

Parkin "Pigs" : Almost too much crisp with a decent amount of cruch. More prominent spice than Grantham Gingerbreads, but not as much as the Northumbrian biscuits. Brown evenly - would be nice decorated. Look like they should be softer, like rolled sugar cookies.

I think I'll leave it there and let you determine which is the best for youself - they are all superb biscuits (some more typical gingerbread than others...).

On an interesting sidenote: According to Kate Colquhon in Taste: The Store of Britain Through Cooking, gingerbread originated in Medieval England as a subtlety, or dish served in between main courses. It was comprised of honey, ginger, breadcrumbs and saffron and baked in a large round biscuit. Originally, it was called marchpane. Yes, that should look familiar - during the reign of the Tudors, the gingerbread dish of the Medieval period evolved into a paste of crushed almonds, sugar and rosewater, used to craft decorations for dishes.

London!

Hey guys!

So, I have to admit. I think I may have failed you in the picture-taking realm while in London, particularly after all of the photos from York. But let me explain! We spent a lot of the time in galleries (first the National Gallery, then the Portrait Gallery), which was awesome, but which didn't allow pictures. Also, the camera has a tendency to turn on at the slightest provocation, which means I think it spent most of Saturday running its battery down, so when I pulled it out to take pictures of the set at Wicked, poof, off it turned (and it happened to be the one day I wasn't carrying a spare). But here follow the few pictures I got:

After a miserable bus ride over Friday night (eight hours on a us so cramped I couldn't sit straight in the seat and my knees were still pressing into the back of the seat in front of me, not to mention the unpleasant odour of toilet and the inability to sleep well sitting up...) we pulled into London well before sunrise Saturday morning.

But the walk to the Strand Palace Hotel near Trafalgar Square was lovely. It took me past the Victoria train station, past Buckingham Palace and through the Park (okay, then I got lost upon arrival at the Square and ended up spending forty minutes hunting through a maze of streets before calling the hotel and asking directions).

After rendezvous with Grandmother and a big breakfast of sausage roll and toast (come one, I hadn't eaten for twelve hours, and I'd been awake since the service stop at three that morning), out we went to the National Gallery.

Here's Lord Nelson, standing guard of the priceless trove inside the gallery:

And across the street (where we attended a Sunday service of orthodox proportions), the famous Church of St. Martin-in-the-Fields (the choir is fantastic):

Some more pictures of the National Gallery:

And of Trafalgar Square:

(Here I'll pause and tell you about the delicious goat cheese and spinach tart, sparkling elderflower juice and bakewell tart I had for lunch...)

Like I said, the picture taking, not so much. So I'll tell you, instead. We went to Wicked that afternoon, which is every bit as wonderful as every raving review you've ever read about it says it is. Then, for dinner, duck breast and a special version of trifle involving custard, white chocolate, whipped cream, mixed berry pudding and sponge cake (only 50% traditional but 100% wonderful).

Sunday was, as I said, an incredibly long service at St. Martin-in-the-Fields (but who's going to pass up church at a famous location?), and then to the Portrait Gallery, which, in addition to displaying stunning portraits, is a fascinating walk through history, and lunch at the Portrait Gallery restaurant, which vaunts a stunning view of London (and delicious game pheasant and berry crumble).

After lunch, we took an afternoon amble through Convent Garden (in fact, an open-air shopping center) and managed to meet a paleontologist who formerly taught at UT!

For dinner, it was Italian food - mushroom and goat cheese ravioli and one of the most delicious tiramisus I've ever had, and then to bed!

The bus ride home Monday was uneventful (however, unfortunately 10 hours during which I found out I can read in busses no better than in cars), but the pre-dawn walk before it was as lovely as the one two days before.

And there's a London weekend in a nutshell!

Update...

Hey guys,

Just so you know, I'll be out of the office until Monday night but will be back with a bounty of photos from London!

Also slated for next week - a bake-off between three contending gingerbread cookie recipes: Grantham Gingerbread, Northumbrian Ginger and Cinnamon biscuits and Parkin Pigs (minus the pig shape, but more on that next Thursday)!

The biscuits will go to good use on the bus to Braemar with my fellow dancers, kicking off a weekend of, as our intermediate instructor put it, eating, dancing...and drinking (and, as Johann put it, getting to know each other more intimately...maybe more than we should). Sounds like fun!

News flash:

Another all-text post, I'm afraid (but you'll have pictures next Tuesday, or Monday). This one to tell you:

I'm going to Denmark for Christmas!

Hmmm...

Just a note:

Today I tried steak and kidney pie. After reading about it in all of those Dickens novels, I was dying to see what it actually was and how it tasted. My response, in the famous words of the waiter when asked about haggis, "I would nae recommend it, sir." Stick to Scotch Pie.

It's a good thing I impulsively purchased dessert at the same time.

We interrupt our normal programming...

Before I finish off with the last York post, I thought I'd change the tune a bit. Yesterday I decided to become adventurous and take advantage of my moderately-outfitted kitchen. Yes, I decided to attempt to cooking something (within minimum number of pans, bowls - none, to be exact, and measuring tools - everything here is in weights, which is fine if you have a kitchen scale. Needless to say, I don't. Online conversion charts were my friends that day).

While in York I acquired two cookbooks of traditional UK food (oddly, they both seem to include Irish dishes, but very few Scottish dishes are in evidence). It ended up being quite a social occasion, actually. I had been intent upon finding local cookbooks (being, if you hadn't noticed, entirely enamoured with food from the UK), and we walked into a shop that, lo and behold, had a whole display of them. I started reading them, but, not having the foggiest about any sort of British cooking, could not really discern which were better.

-"Ah, sir," I addressed a passing shopkeeping, "Could you possibly tell me which of these is a good cookbook?" And then, thinking maybe he wouldn't have any such experience, added, "If you happen to know."

-"The one you're holding is fantastic," That would be the Complete Traditional Recipe Book by Sarah Edington. "I bought it a few months ago, and it's one of my favorites. But that one," he gestured to Farmhouse Cookery, "just came out. I got it a week ago and it's really good. Anything by the National Trust is going to be fantastic."

At this point he calls over another shopkeeper to corroborate. "And, they're half off right now," he added helpfully. Well, that sealed the deal.

Flipping through them is an experience of its own, and I quickly decided to make a meal. One of the sparser, less complicated dishes and a nice bread. Well, the meal didn't happen, but I have all of the ingredients, and so I adventured to make the bread recipe yesterday while suffering science writer's block.

Featuring

I present to you

Norfolk Rusks

Now, flip to page 122 of your copy of Farmhouse Cookery by Laura Mason, and you are greeted by this picture of a stunning scene captioned Formerly used to drain the land, Horsey Windpump in Norfolk now offers striking views across the Broads. Very good.

And the recipe? Yes, I am aware you can't read it (you mean you can't make out my minute scrawl in the margins?). Oh, and this caption reads, Dunwich Heath in Suffolk is an important conservation area for rare birds such as the nightjar. Good to know, I'm sure.

Now, Norfolk Rusks. According to my new friend Laura, "These little bread rolls are unusual in English bread-making, but are a well-established recipe in Norfolk." Well, yes, I agree whole-heartedly with everything in that statement, except, perhaps, for the choice of calling them "rolls", for reasons which will become apparent.

Open your cupboards and make sure you have:

100g/3.5 oz butter (for those without a kitchen scale, this translates to 7 tablespoons)

200g/7 oz plain flour

1/2 tsp salt

1 tsp baking powder

1 egg

2 Tbs milk (or enough to make a "stiff paste")

At this point, I must apologize for not being as put together as the test kitchen bakers over at King Arthur Flour (check them out at http://www.kingarthurflour.com/blog/), and I don't have pictures of the whole process. I have paraphrased the instructions below:

Cut the butter into the flour and add the salt and baking powder. Add the egg, stir until fully incorporated and add just enough milk to make a "fairly stiff paste", or what we would call a "stiff dough".

At this point, I'll interject that the dough will look, and taste, like a typical American biscuit dough. Moving on...

Divide into 18 pieces and roll each into a round 1 cm thick.

Actually, I would recommend flattening out the whole ball of dough out into a 1 cm sheet onto cellophane, wrapping it, throwing it into the freezer for an hour (or substituting vegetable shortening for 1/2 the butter), pulling it out, cutting it with a cookie cutter or biscuit cutter, and then proceeding. The idea is you want as much rise as possible, and, while I haven't tried this technique (drat it, KAB, you're supposed to post these things before I cook the recipe to try them out on), freezing the full butter dough or substituting the shortening keeps the fat solid for longer when it goes into the oven, which allows the dough to rise more. Not that I've tried it, but these are definitely a concoction you want a lot of rise on. And I would highly recommend the cutter, because otherwise they'll look messing (like mine!).

Place on a greased baking sheet and bake at 425 Fahrenheit for 5-7 minutes until well risen. Remove from the oven and allow to cool for a short time, then score round the middle with a knife and pull each one in half.

Yep, definitely let them rise as much as you think they're able, then pull those babies out, let them cool (cool well, or else, again, it'll be messy) and cut 'em in half. At this point notice that nothing has been said about making sure they're done or what color they should be. That's because you, like me the first time I didn't read the recipe all the way through before baking *clears throat* will be astonished to find that this is not, indeed, the end! That is predominantly why I don't want to call these "rolls". Even "bread" is stretching it. On we go:

Return to a cool oven at 300 Fahrenheit until golden and dry all thew ay through (this takes about an hour). Cool and store in an airtight container. Eat with butter [I like how she says this as if there weren't already enough butter in them already. Actually, I think they'd be quite good with some sort of cheese melted on top].

So there you go. It's a dead ringer for an American biscuit when you pull them out the first time (tastes great with honey!), but you must resist the temptation to allow sisters, mothers, flatmates and, primarily, yourself to eat them all because they've got to go back into the cooler oven for a long, long time. You'll know they're done when they're a uniform shade of deep, golden brown (actually, they're done when the color is the very definition of "golden brown". I've never seen anything that describes the color so well). Make sure they're not pale in the middle, and they should pretty much just flake apart when you touch (or eat!) them! As below.

So this is, surprisingly, not a recipe I would make for breakfast as I expected it to be. I find that it's much more of an hors d'oeuvre (that's a kicker to spell, by the way), served with a topping of some. Give them a try!

York, Day 3, Part 1

Now that we've moved on to Day Three, here are some pictures from the boat tour we took on the River Foss (not to be mistaken with the River Ouse, pronounced "ooze"):

(Isn't it so pretty and serene?)

But the real event of the day was going to Betty's. You know you've been dying to hear about Betty's since yesterday when I whetted your appetite, so to speak, with the picture from Little Betty's...Alright, now that I have fortified myself with a bowl of cereal, I am prepared to tell you the wonders of Betty's.

The glass-walled building occupies a street corner of York, offering diners the opportunity to stare out at their less fortunate counterparts in the cold streets, while sitting in warm comfort in a large, airy and brightly lit room. The staff - all female (sorry guys, you just don't have the right qualities to work in a place like this), wear long-sleeved, high necked lace blouses and long blue skirts, and, naturally, they all have a proper English accent and a quiet manner.

The menu is a marvel to behold: tea sandwiches, tea cakes, entrees, assorted hot (and cold) beverages (coming from the Steeping Room, the tea selection was limited, but their pitch is more towards the bakery than the tea room), and the obligatory Autumn Special Menu (which, consequentially, my entire meal came off of. Oh how I love the fall!).

I started the meal with mulled cider - apple sweet and heavily spiced with nutmeg, cinnamon and so much citrus giving it a pleasing bite it too the entire meal to drink. It came served steaming in a frosted glass (not cold frosted, translucent frosted). There is is, on the right upper corner of the picture.

Ah, but what is the centerpiece of that marvelous photo, you might ask. Why, that, I would respond, was my lunch and the finest dish I've eaten since arriving. Lamb and Rosemary Pie. Piled under a delicate, crispy puff pasty top, the succulent lamb just lay begging to be eaten, so tender it nearly fell apart if you so much as looked at it. Served with onions cooked to perfection (not overdone, but not crispy), potatoes and carrots, and all soused in a fine rosemary gravy.

And then, there were the obligatory tea sandwiches (which, if you remember well, were also featured yesterday compliments of T):

And the third dish to adorn the table was this delicious potato pancake, topped with mushroom sauteed in a white wine cream sauce:

Alas, I did not take pictures of our dessert, for my wits were overcome by the delights of the lamb, but I will do my best to describe it to you:

For T, there was Betty's Sunday, a delicious dish of dairy made with organic vanilla ice cream, crushed meringue, crushed raspberries, strawberries and blackberries and topped with fresh whipped cream. I would highly recommend the crushed meringue in your next Sunday. It adds a soft and satisfying crunch to the dish.

For Ellen, a fresh fruit custard. Served in a delicate tart pastry filled to the brim with custard and topped with fresh berries.

For yours truly, the kill of the afternoon: Warm treacle tart served on a pond of piping hot toffee sauce with a scoop of organic vanilla ice cream.

Unbeatable.