Talking to the taxman about poetry..in Wales

The older/leftier/more musical amongst you may recognise the title of this post as a Billy Bragg album - of which The Husband is particularly fond. But my SO's musical tastes apart, the reason for this title is that we have been in deepest West Wales for the past week, and whilst having a delicious lunch in a little art gallery/cafe in Cardigan high street (What's that? Glamorous life? Well, yes, now you mention it) called Pendre Art, bumped into Mr Bragg himself (Billy, not Melvyn - do keep up). The Husband was unfeasibly excited and star-struck, so made a beeline for the solitarily tea-sipping chap. Fifteen minutes of chat about the demise of the Left in Britain, tea and the impact of BB's lyrics on The Husband's political views ensued. In general BB is very lovely, friendly and un-precious. A very unexpected and cheering encounter.

Other than that, the week in Wales was alternately lovely and stressful. A combination of organisational nightmares, and pub lunches in The Nag's Head, Abercych; fabulous Sunday lunches which left us groaningly full; wonderful local ale - Old Emrys, Cwrw, Hook Norton; glorious sunshine on Llangranog beach, but extremely chilly waves; evening sunset walks on Poppit Sands; and sadness and things past.

Heaven thy name is Mark Bittman...no-knead bread

First of all, let me say that I can claim absolutely no credit for how fabulous the loaf above looks. The recipe is stupefyingly simple, and incredibly forgiving.
I have been meaning to try the version of Sullivan Street Bakery (NYC) no-knead bread that was written about originally by Mark Bittman of the NY Times. It has a virtual cult following amongst those who seek frankly artisanal-quality bread. This is especially dear to my heart as it's extremely difficult to get decent crusty bread down here. So, I finally got round to it after tasting some that a friend of ours had made (substituting wholewheat flour), and being blown away by it. It also means that I can use my le creuset for even more things - hurrah to that.

So, here's the recipe (a la Mark Bittman of the NYT):

No-Knead Bread

Time: About 1½ hours plus 14 to 20 hours’ rising

3 cups all-purpose or bread flour, more for dusting
¼ teaspoon instant yeast
1¼ teaspoons salt
Cornmeal or wheat bran as needed.

1. In a large bowl combine flour, yeast and salt. Add 1 5/8 cups water, and stir until blended; dough will be shaggy and sticky. Cover bowl with plastic wrap. Let dough rest at least 12 hours, preferably about 18, at warm room temperature, about 70 degrees.

2. Dough is ready when its surface is dotted with bubbles. Lightly flour a work surface and place dough on it; sprinkle it with a little more flour and fold it over on itself once or twice. Cover loosely with plastic wrap and let rest about 15 minutes.

3. Using just enough flour to keep dough from sticking to work surface or to your fingers, gently and quickly shape dough into a ball. Generously coat a cotton towel (not terry cloth) with flour, wheat bran or cornmeal; put dough seam side down on towel and dust with more flour, bran or cornmeal. Cover with another cotton towel and let rise for about 2 hours. When it is ready, dough will be more than double in size and will not readily spring back when poked with a finger.

4. At least a half-hour before dough is ready, heat oven to 450 degrees. Put a 6- to 8-quart heavy covered pot (cast iron, enamel, Pyrex or ceramic) in oven as it heats. When dough is ready, carefully remove pot from oven. Slide your hand under towel and turn dough over into pot, seam side up; it may look like a mess, but that is O.K. Shake pan once or twice if dough is unevenly distributed; it will straighten out as it bakes. Cover with lid and bake 30 minutes, then remove lid and bake another 15 to 30 minutes, until loaf is beautifully browned. Cool on a rack.

Yield: One 1½-pound loaf.
-- Fan-bloody-tastic, I can tell you. The only problem with the resulting loaf is that it has an alarming tendency to disappear!

Tornados and Claudia Roden

We've been told to expect severe weather today (and severe in this part of the world means flooding, golfball-sized hail and tornadoes), so we're stuck inside with the lights on at 1.30pm trying to decide whether to submit to the temptation to write the day off and turn the telly on.

So far we've resisted and I've been entertaining myself looking at the very exciting new cook book I bought this week (in continuation of our attempt to cut down on the amount of red meat we eat for both health and sustainability points of view)...Claudia Roden's gorgeous-looking Arabesque - featuring recipes from Morocco, Turkey and Lebanon.

I absolutely love all this kind of food anyway, so this is a total treat, and the photography and writing are just beautiful. I think that this evening's dinner will be something utilising lentils, caramelised onions and pine nuts...hmm feeling hungry.

Folliculee, follicular......

Those of you who have known me for a while know that my 'naturally curly hair' (ref. Frieda in Peanuts) has been alternately a joy and a total burden. There are lots of us curly girls around (in fact about 65% of the world's population has either curly or wavy hair), but you'd never know it from the pictures of beautiful, successful, professional people we're always fed. Straight hair is associated with glamour, competence, 'togetherness', dependability etc etc. Curly hair, on the other hand, tends to be used as a marker of wildness, unkemptness, incompetence, immaturity (kids with curly hair are cute, but adults?!) and unreliability. It goes without saying that this constitutes prejudice, but a kind that seems so bland as to be not worth mentioning.

Unless you're a curly girl like me. This really matters, because it matters how you feel about yourself. So, I am now a fully fledged curly advocate. After years of wishing I had straight blond hair that would ruffle attractively in the breeze, I am now, finally, in my thirties, coming to accept and love what I have. This has meant a wholesale change in my approach, and one that I am talking about here because it fits perfectly with my broader interest in sustainability and minimising my impact, where possible.

So, this change has meant that I no longer use shampoo. Yep, you heard me right, I chucked out the countless bottles of harsh, sulfate-riddled chemicals that I kept buying in search of the perfect product. Along with that all the silicone-laced potions that are supposed, magically, to make your hair look healthy and shiny, when in fact they just coat it in a suffocating film that only sulfate-based shampoo can strip away, leading to a loss of natural oils and moisture, meaning more products are needed to make it look healthy...starting to see the vicious cycle? (Oh, and by the way you do know that that shampoo you use is basically the same as your washing up liquid/dish detergent and the manufacturers only add the suds to make you feel like you're getting your hair clean?).

The best description I read was in a book called 'Curly Girl' by Lorraine Massey - she points out that your hair is a delicate fibre, like wool or cashmere, and wouldn't dream of washing your cashmere in detergent, so why on earth would you do it for your hair?

My routine now is incredibly simple, I use a natural, botanical conditioner (plus friction) to 'wash' my hair, and a completely organic flaxseed and aloe vera gel (which I brew up myself on the stove, like a witch!). My hair has never looked or felt better, and I have cut back massively on the amount of packaging, chemicals and general ecological damage that I'm contributing. I feel hugely positive about this, and I have to credit www.naturallycurly.com for showing me the way and the light! Now, all I have to do is find a hairdresser within 100 miles who can actually cut curly hair!

Forgive this slightly indulgent post, but for someone who's been battling bad hair days her whole life, this is big! Hopefully some other curly might happen across this blog and find a new way of thinking about their hair too.

Anyway, enough about hair, it's Easter Sunday and I'm sure the Easter bunny will have hidden some chocolate for me somewhere...

Religiosity and small creatures

So, I've been particularly remiss about updating this, despite convincing myself that I was going to be much better, but I do have at least a partial explanation in the form of a mountain of grading/marking which has rather taken over in the last couple of weeks. However, it's now Spring Break, so I have more time to devote to other things, like catching up on reading, doing all those little projects I've been meaning to do for weeks, and starting to tackle the garden (yikes).

The last couple of days have been interestingly full of little reminders of what a different place we're living in. On Thursday I was walking the dogs in the local park, which is on campus, when I spied a smallish group of people (about University age, so I assumed they were students) walking quite slowly through the park. They didn't seem really to be walking with much forward momentum, more wandering, but when I got closer I saw that one of them had a very large beam of wood on his shoulders and his hands appeared to be tied to the ends of said beam. Then, noticing that a couple of the other guys were half-heartedly hitting him with whips or lashes, I realised that this must have something to do with the fact that it's Easter! But what on earth they were doing (rehearsing for some church play?) I didn't have the strength to ask. I think the thing that always surprises me about religion around here is that it's the most laddish/girly students who tend to be really religious. It's caught me off guard several times, and this group were no exception. Bemused is what I was.

My other deeply Southern experience was at 6 o'clock this morning when I let the dogs out and they dashed hell for leather towards something that I could barely see (didn't have my specs on) and started barking like the sky was falling in. It turned out to be a horrid mangy possum, which are potentially rabid and nasty when cornered (especially by two excited schnauzers), so I dashed to get some more clothes on to shoo the thing away, but the dogs had chased it off by the time I got myself together. Here, for those unfamiliar, is a pic of a possum (sometimes called an opossum)...nasty little bugger.

My current obsession - the Tolix A Chair

For some reason, now that the dining room is painted (a lovely colour with an uninspiring name - Berkshire Beige!) I am obsessing over furniture that we can't afford. The current object of my affection is the lovely Tolix 1934 A chair, which was originally (supposedly) designed to be used on board a battleship, but were subsequently given to cafes and bars in France by breweries in exchange for stocking their beer. It now epitomises industrial cottage chic, and I really want some. Sadly, they are approaching $230 each. Serious design expenditure.

Black-eyed peas and squash stew

Here is the Ainsley recipe that I mentioned before:
Prep time: 20 mins
Cooking time: 35 mins
Serves: 3-4 (depending on your appetite, but usually does two of us for two meals)

Ingredients:
2 tbsp olive oil
1/2 tsp cumin seeds
1/2 tsp mustard seeds
1 onion, chopped
1 garlic clove, minced
1 chilli pepper (he stipulates red, but I've used jalapenos successfully)
1lb (450g) potatoes roughly diced
2 tbsp curry paste or powder (I usually use Madras - I love a bit of heat!)
2 1/4 cups (600ml) stock (veg or chicken)
1lb (450g) butternut squash (or pumpkin)
15oz (400g) can black-eyed peas, drained
2 tomatoes, cut into smallish wedges
Salt & pepper
chopped coriander (cilantro) to garnish
lemon wedges to serve

Instructions
1. Heat oil in large casserole (dutch oven), add cumin and mustard seeds, and cook for 1 minute. When they begin to splutter and pop add the onion, garlic and chilli pepper and cook for 3 -4 minutes.

2. Stir in potatoes and cook for 3 minutes. Add curry paste/powder and stock, bring to boil and simmer for 5 minutes. Add squash/pumpkin and simmer for 15 minutes (or until veg are tender). Add black-eyed peas and tomato wedges and continue to cook for a couple more minutes. Season to taste.

3. Divide stew between individual dishes, sprinkle over coriander (cilantro) and serve with lemon wedges.

Yum!!

Off to take a pic off the new Le Creuset and the stew it contains...

Rain rain and holey fences

We now no longer have a huge water oak lying across our garden, but what we have instead is a huge gap in the fence where said tree collapsed. This would not be a problem were it not for the fact that it means that until it's fixed either me or The Husband has to accompany the dogs outside to make sure they don't make an escape attempt. This reminded me of when we had to do the same because they were little tiny pups. It was tedious then, and surprisingly no less tedious this time. Also boring because it means paying someone to come and repair it - which in turn means less money to spend on exciting things.

I also have to admit to having treated myself to a gorgeous red Le Creuset casserole (or dutch oven, as it's called over here, inexplicably) which was on sale at half price - yippee. I'm so pleased with it I might even be tempted to post a picture of it on here when I get home! I had to make immediate use of it, so I made an old favourite - squash and black eyed bean stew (a delish Ainsley Harriott 'low fat meal in minutes' for which I shall post the recipe when I get home). It tasted even better than usual (I'm sure there should be some research into that kind of effect, if there isn't already).

Anyway, off to ride home in the rain - we've had several severe weather warnings, but nothing like North Dakota, which is expecting 41in of snow in the next few days. Chilly.

Timber.....

So, the local council has finally arranged for the huge water oak that came down in our garden during Hurricane Gustav to be removed. So, today was mostly characterised by the unmistakable whine of chainsaws and cracking of tree limbs. It was a monster tree, and had it fallen the other way, it would have taken out half our house. We evacuated to North Louisiana (Monroe, and then a little place by the Arkansas border called Farmerville) for Gustav, so we weren't here to see it come down, but I'm sure it would have been pretty hairy!

It's obviously a significant aspect of life along the gulf coast, that hurricane season can be very disruptive. In fact, we only missed a week of work for Gustav, and the University tries to minimise closures, but most students were absent for two weeks, as some had driven as far as Texas, Mississippi, Alabama and Arkansas. The tragedy is that there are still thousands of families who are refugees from Katrina, but it doesn't really make the news anymore, and the political will to rebuild New Orleans seems to come from celebrities and non-profits rather than elected officials.

The opportunity to rebuild genuinely sustainable and affordable housing in NO is unmissable - if we let it pass, we will have sqaundered the future of a truly extraordinary city. The picture above is of a 'Katrina Cottage' - the prefab houses that are supposed to be the solution to the problem.

I was talking to a native of NO the other weekend (sitting in a cafe opposite St Louis Cathedral) and she said that those who live there describe it as 'a high functioning third world island off the coast of America'. I like that description because it seems to capture something of the crazy mix of high and low culture that makes it so intoxicating a place.

A balmy 72 degrees, and horticultural guilt

It's lovely properly spring-like weather here at the moment - we've had several gorgeous days in the seventies with no humidity (which is the killer). However, the consequence of this is that the garden's slightly sorry state seems to be a constant reproach. We've done very little since we moved in (a combination of ignorance of the local flora and feeling overwhelmed at the size of the plot), and whilst it still looks presentable, it's nowhere near what it could be. So far, all I've managed is a bit of pruning and general tidying. We have several huge old trees (magnolias, red oaks and pecans, as well as a couple of camphors and crepe myrtles) which keep it from just looking like an unkempt bit of grass, but the lure of more exciting things is very strong.

I'm super keen to have a veggie and herb garden, but not at all sure I've got the wherewithal to keep it together. I think I need to start small...if Michelle Obama can find the time, surely I can.

Thrifty cooking

In these economically rollercoasterish times it becomes even more important to know how to do more with less. This is a general approach to life that our grandparents would not have to think twice about, but we seem to have left it behind as if being profligate were some kind of badge of honour and progress. I think that attitude is now showing itself to be just as shortsighted as our grandparents would have said it was. So, I am doing more than usual in the area of cooking thriftily with good quality but relatively humble ingredients treated well. Many people from all corners of the world know all about this kind of cooking - at the moment I'm particularly interested in Indian and Italian.

So, with that in mind, this evening I set out to make aloo mattar (potato and pea curry), accompanied by tarka dhal (lentils). I was improvising on a theme using some especially good quality madras curry powder I found on offer in the local supermarket looking lonely on the clearance shelf. I love those kind of finds! The husband seemed very happy with it, and I must say for a first stab it was quite pleasing. The only downside is that the house will now smell of curry for at least the next two days - fine on the evening you eat it, not so much the morning after.

I have the prospect of delayed coverage of the 6 Nations matches on Setanta this weekend, so it will be curry and rugby for a couple of days. Not bad really - although I'm sure that most of the people I know around here would be bemused by both aspects of my weekend plans. If I were to try and integrate it would be tailgating and the NCAA top 28 March Madness games (that's college basketball for the uninitiated). A different world.

Here goes

Okay, so I've been meaning to get this thing underway for over a year, but what with one thing and another (new house, new job, new country) it's only just begun (resisting the temptation to break into song here...). I thought that it might be of interest to me later, and perhaps to one or two of my friends and family, plus any hapless surfer who finds themselves reading this. Whilst there are lots of us Brits living in the US, they tend to be concentrated in the main (glamorous) cities like NY, San Fran and LA. There are not that many of us in Lousiana, and even fewer here in Lafayette (capital of Cajun country).
Work has brought us here, unexpectedly, but we're trying to make it feel like home.
This part of the US has a very distinct culture, cuisine and even language (most people outside the main cities speak French - though not the kind you learned at school!). It's not really part of the so-called Bible Belt, as the predominant religion here in Southern Lousiana is Catholicism (rather than Southern Baptist, as in most of the rest of the South). This is a historical artefact from the time that France and Spain owned this part of the US (not at the same time, obviously). It is also, just as you might imagine, extremely conservative (this is the only state that voted more strongly Republican in the most recent election than in the previous one - make of that what you will).
I have no intention to upset anyone, or be more than my usually critical self - but this blog will record my reactions to living here, both positive and negative. It'll be an account of the ups and downs of living thousands of miles away from home in a country that although it shares our language can be as foreign as anywhere in the world. It feels like a good time to be in the US, with lots of optimism and momentum for change - we'll just have to see if that change is realised, or simply fades away. Here's hoping for the former.